I'm Scared

I'm scared of my baby.  

Yes, you read that right, I'm scared.  I'm scared of something that holds 1/8 of my heart, who is 1/10 my size and 1/35 my age.  Something with sparkly blue eyes and chubby cheeks.  The same something that just started crinkling his nose when he smiles and laughing when we go on walks.  I know, you're thinking, how can I be so scared of something so adorable.  

Let me tell you. 

My adorable little fellow is a biting, grabbing stalker.  Let me explain.  [No, there is too much. Let me sum up]  

Holland has a glorious set of six sharp chompers which he is constantly trying out on any flesh he can find.  Why?  I don't know. He is a biting grinding maniac.  He'll bite fingers, shoulders, cheeks, noses.  Need I go on?  If it is soft and tender he'll bite and bite hard.  There is no remorse, just a feverish appetite for more.  I'm still holding onto my theory that he has rabies. . . I'm just waiting for him to start foaming at the mouth.  :)

Holland also loves my hair.  Not all of my hair, just the really tender stuff by my neck.  Those little chubby fingers are quick and strong.  Now I can do hard things, and I'm not a stranger to pain.  But when it comes down to it, I'd rather birth a baby without drugs than get my hair permed.  Why?  Because getting those silly rods out about kill me.  The pain is crazy and there is no precious baby at the end of all that agony.  The last time I got my hair permed I literally had to ask my friend to count down the rods for me. . . so I could breath through the pain.  Silly, I know.  But that's how sensitive my head is.  Don't even get me started on the stories from my childhood and my mom going through my hair with a comb.  So when Holland has my hair in his death grip you can only imagine the thoughts going through my head.

Holland loves me.  And yes, for those wondering, I love him too.  But he really really really LOVES me.  And most of the time only me.  If he sees me he wants me.  If he hears me he wants me.  So what do I do?  I've been hiding from my baby.  Yes, hiding.  If he's in the front room playing, I sneak into the kitchen, do what I've got to do, and sneak out all in 100% stealth mode.  I've contemplated getting camouflage clothing so I can blend in with the walls.  Or maybe I get a mask made so I look like Eric.  Hmmm. . .   If Holland happens to catch one glimpse of me he army crawls at full speed to where I am and whimpers whimpers whimpers.  Adorable?  Yes, at times but more often discouraging because he was playing perfectly until he saw me.  At times I find myself pantomiming to the kids just so the baby doesn't hear me.  It all seems silly but so does lugging around a 20 lb bundle of cuteness who is simultaneously trying to bite me and pull my hair out.  

So right now I am scared.  And perhaps a little scared that I'm scared.  But until my baby boy keeps those fangs and phalanges off of me, I'm keeping my distance.  :)