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... begins long after childbirth.

This is what I was thinking as I lay writhing on the kitchen floor this morning, after tripping over a minitature tractor that had appeared out of nowhere. Being a parent is the best thing that ever happened to me, but it brings its share of pain, as well. I'm pretty sure my husband - with a blood blister brought on by a mislaid plastic giraffe - would agree with me.

So far, we've run into each other with the race car shopping cart at Safeway - which doesn't sound that bad, but it hits you right at that spot above the ankle. And I've stumbled over any manner of things in the dark - finding that the later it is at night, the more likely I am to set off something that sings or otherwise makes a lot of noise. And I've been bapped in the head by flung blocks, books and the occasional stuffed monkey.

This is only 17 months in. I'm sure there's more pain ahead. My brother, when he was little, broke my dad's nose with his head. So, as I sit here, with my throbbing knee swelling more by the minute, I'm wondering what a full suit of armor goes for these days. Make it two...