I used to worry that someone would call child protective services on me and accuse me of beating up my kids if they ever looked at the number and frequency of bruises and scratches all over them. Here are pictures of both of their heads from yesterday, for example:
Neither one was inflicted by me. One was the fault of gravity (Beck biting it going down the porch steps, head first) and the other was the fault of inertia (the big heavy door to the play area at Carl's Jr. hitting Daphne in the head when she was doddling going through it).
But if that isn't proof enough, just take a look at my own body. I'm always covered in bruises myself. It's partially a predisposition in my family towards bruising, especially on the lower half of the body. My legs, hips, and bum are always covered in bruises. It's also a propensity towards klutziness I guess. Because you've got to bump yourself to get a bruise. Evidently I do it a lot. Here is my latest doozie:
The sad thing about this one, and I'm not sure how well the picture shows it, is that it is HUGE, very swollen like a goose egg, with a big scratch in the middle of the bruise, AND I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I DID IT. How do you get a huge swollen scratched bruise on your calf and have no idea how you did it??? You'd think something like that would register in your mind. But I guess it happens to me so much that I don't even pay attention anymore. I laid in bed last night for 20 minutes trying to think of how I did it. Trying to think of when I first noticed the pain and what in my house is that exact height on my leg. I came up with several pieces of furniture that height, but I had no memory of running into any of them. Bizarre.
So anyway, I"m pretty sure if anyone ever calls child protective services on me, my own array of bruises will convince them that I'm not a child abuser. Good luck to my husband, though!