This mixes two of my favorite pastimes: reading other parent blogs, and winning free stuff.

A Mama’s Rant has a copy of Sara Ellington’s book to give away to the person with the funniest picture of a child, along with a short story behind the photo. So here goes.

The set up: I was home alone with Cordelia, and she was playing quietly, so I went around the corner to check my e-mail. She was out of my sight for maybe 5 minutes. I could hear her laughing and playing with something. Hell, I was just happy that she was happy. Finally, I got up to see just what was making her so happy, because she’s not the sort of child to enjoy playing with her toys for more than, oh, 30 seconds.

Here’s what I saw:

Look at her trying to hide the tissue in her hand. The child had found TWO boxes of tissues, and was having a blast pulling them out, one at a time. She was sitting on a soft tissue cloud that she had made herself.

Of course, my appearance didn’t slow her down.

So that’s my entry. I don’t know if it qualifies as the funniest picture, but I found it to be hilarious. And it had a much better story behind it than this one:

I swear her father is not Gene Simmons.

Get your amusing photos in your blogs by Jan. 9 if you want to participate!

“This’ll hurt me more than it hurts you.”

Did you ever hear that from a parent? I think several of us heard it, and probably even more from our parents’ generation. I always thought it was a dumb statement, since usually it meant something painful was about to happen to the child, and not the parent, so how could it hurt them more?

Today I finally understand it.

Princess Cranky-Butt was in fine form today. Grumpy, easy to tantrum, throwing toys, and generally behaving badly. I spent most of the day trying to do a song and dance (literally) to keep her entertained. But the tyrant wanted none of it, and nothing I did made her happy. I sat on the floor and tried to read her a book. She threw the book. I checked my e-mail and left her alone. She screamed at me for daring to hide behind the gate. I sat in a chair and watched Wiggles with her. She’d wail for me to pick her up, and then as soon as I picked her up, she’d struggle and whine to get down. Repeat 15 gazillion times.

Now, my sweet little toddler has a tendency to bite. She has bitten me on a number of occasions, although rarely hard, and we’ve been working to break her of the habit. Lately she seems to have given it up, so I have been off my guard in watching for those sharp little teeth.

I sat on the floor once again and tried to play with her. She finally sat on my lap and decided that hitting mommy in the chest was a fabulous game. It started with gentle pats, but then quickly turned into blows. So I took her arm gently and said, “No hit. We don’t hit.”

Cordelia, being the “intense” child that she is, jumps up and waddles away crying, as if I just killed her kitty in front of her or something. Then she turns and looks at me, and starts to walk back to me, picking up speed with a smile on her face, and opening her arms wide for hug.

Wow, I think, she wants a hug! (It’s a rare occurrence here, so I have every right to be surprised.) So I open my arms and let her little body collapse into me. I wrap my arms around her, grateful for a happy moment, and she rests her head on my shoulder. Then, the pain hits me.

“OWWWWW!!” I yell as my little vampire attacks my shoulder with her fangs. She was biting through my shirt, but it didn’t lessen the intense, hot pain. And then, it happened.

I smacked her. Yes, I’m hanging my head in shame here, confessing to my crime. I smacked her on the butt. Not a beating force, but not a light tap either. She still was biting my shoulder, and the pain had blurred any thoughts I might have of how to properly handle the situation. I didn’t have time to ponder, “What would Dr. Sears do if a toddler was trying to take a chunk out of his shoulder?” Instinct took over, and I hit her on the butt.

She let go and pulled back, an astonished look on her face. I put my face right up to hers, and said, “NO BITE!” The water works followed that, along with fierce crying and wailing. She slowly crawled away from me as I sat there stunned at what had just happened. I mean very slowly crawled away, making sure to glance back at me with a shattered, accusing look that broke my heart.

She continued to move away from me and cry while I played those few seconds back in my mind a dozen times. Omigod, I HIT my child! My little girl, who barely knows wrong from right at this age! I am the worst parent ever! My rational mind knew that I didn’t smack her hard enough to do anything more than get her attention, but my heart was ready to hand in my Mommy Badge and quit, citing the fact that I was an unfit mother.

A moment later I was calling to Cordy to come over to me, wanting to hug her, wipe away her tears and comfort her. She stood up and walked back to me, crying less with each step, and again fell into me for a hug, with no biting this time.

And just to make it clear how hard she bit me: I have a baby-mouth sized reddish-purple bruise on my shoulder. Hours later, it still feels hot and sore to the touch. This photo was taken shortly after it happened, but the area has darkened since then.

We sat there for 5 minutes as I wrapped my arms around her and gently told her that I was sorry that she was so upset, but she really hurt mommy and we don’t allow biting. I’m sure she barely understood a word of that, but I think the meaning got across to her: this hurt me far more than it hurt you.

I’m still shaken down to the core at this first drastic bit of discipline. I had never planned to spank my child, and I really have no intention to ever do it again. But in that situation, it just seemed right at the moment. I’m scared of myself now. Scared I might lose my cool again. Scared she’ll someday tell her therapist that this is the reason she’s so screwed up.

So for tonight, at least, I’m burdened with a huge chain of mommy guilt around my neck. And I feel like I deserve it.

It seems I’m wasting my 15 minutes of fame on sound bites for Parents and Parenting magazines. In the fall a quote of mine was used in an article about soothing a fussy baby. And now?

*Ahem* Could you all pull out your February 2006 Parenting magazines (mine came in the mail yesterday) and turn to page 37?

OK, it’s nothing all that exciting. Several months ago, they asked for people to e-mail them with the products they couldn’t live without. I sent in a long list of items, but it seems this one stood out to them. It was a good product for us. The Baby’s Bliss gripe water did help soothe Cordy’s tummy, which in turn led to less crying jags. I wouldn’t call it my #1 must-have, but it was a life-saver at times.

The quote isn’t exactly mine – it’s a mish-mash of things I said in the e-mail, in follow up e-mails when asked for more information, and in the phone call I received to verify that I was, in fact, a real person. But hey, close enough.

I’m not totally thrilled with the pic either, but they needed me to send them a headshot quickly, and that was all I had at the time. I would have preferred something a little more stylish, instead of the “just woke up and barely brushed my hair” look.

So a few more minutes of fame is gone for me, but at least I got a picture this time! Maybe next time I’ll get an entire article?

Sometimes, it seems that from the moment a child is born, that child is seeking out doom. A friend of ours has a theory that life is so wonderful and cozy and warm in the womb, that when children are born into the bright, cold, loud and big world, they immediately want to do anything they can to end their life. They actively seek out doom.

Aaron and I laughed at this theory, until two weeks after Cordelia was born, when she had her first attempt at seeking doom. Aaron had taken her upstairs and put her on the bed so he could change his clothing. He only took his hand off of her for a couple of seconds – just long enough to take off his sweater. But during that short amount of time, Cordy mustered up all her strength, noticed where the edge of the bed was, and somehow rolled off the bed – *thump* – landing head first, of course. She had shown no signs of rolling before this, and she wouldn’t roll over again until she was 4 months old. But during this one moment, she took her chance. We then understood the theory. We also got our first real taste of parenting guilt.

Since that time, she’s remained an adventurer who constantly looks for the most dangerous thing in the room and heads straight for it. We’ve had to banish any pens and pencils to high places due to her joy in carrying them around, just waiting for the right moment to poke an eye out.

I’ve performed the mommy dive several times, throwing myself in harm’s way, to keep her from bashing her head into something sharp. She’s pulled a stack of folding chairs down onto her. And she’s fallen off the bed so many times now, we’re practically used to it.

I have removed nearly everything sharp and pointy from the living room. The computer and the TV stand are gated off, and we’re looking for a bottom-heavy end table to replace our tray tables which tip far too easily. The only piece of furniture in the living room that is remotely dangerous is the bench just inside the door, which has sharp corners on the wood frame. Which means, of course, that it was the next attempt at doom.

It was Monday evening. We had just finished watching King Kong, and picked Cordy up from grandpa’s house, where she was watching the Fiesta Bowl with him. When we got home, we started to take her coat off. After her coat was off, she stood there between us for a moment as we took our coats off and hung them up.

And then it happened – she fell forward. She didn’t seem to trip; just tumbled forward. Aaron was right in front of her, but in another amazing move, she missed Aaron’s leg entirely, twisting her body around to put it on a direct course for the edge of the bench.

She hit the bench, but not like any normal person would hit the bench. She bounced from the first impact, and hit it again, this time on the other side of her head before falling to the ground. She was quiet for the first few seconds, as Aaron and I experienced that feeling of dread and panic that only a parent can feel. Then the screaming started.

I quickly turned on the light while Aaron picked her up, and we examined her head. Aaron noticed the large red bump and scrape on her forehead, while I noticed the indentation in her head just into the hairline, on the other side of her head. It was at that point that we realized she had somehow managed to injure herself in two totally different parts of her head in just one fall.

Lucky for us, she didn’t give herself a concussion, and the wounds were minor. The scratch is still visible on her head, although amazingly the bruising around it is mostly gone.

The spot in her hairline doesn’t look bad at all, but that’s because the skin that was peeled partially off is still covering the red, irritated area. Little harm done, although I’m sure she had a massive headache that night.

She’s still seeking doom, I tell you.

Watching the Fiesta Bowl together.