My testicles pay the price...

As I type this, I am sitting atop the cushiest pillow I own, with that deep, painful ache throughout the lower half of my body. The tight clenching in my stomach and abdomen is finally starting to relax, and the burning sensation in my pelvis is slowly dissipating. The unbelievably excruciating, sharp, world-encompassing pain that comes only from being hit in the testicles has past, and I am sitting, ignoring the weakness in my legs, and attempting to will the soreness away. All men know this pain, and many mothers have borne it’s type for longer periods of time during childbirth. It is a pain that screams for vengeance.

But, it is a pain I will humbly accept. It is a pain I know will come often in the future, and a pain I will live with.

Because of her.

She’s nearly two years old and the light of my life. The darkest hell becomes Eden when she smiles. The most frustrating day at work, becomes one of the most wonderful nights of my life when she comes up to me, her little lips pursed tight, saying “Kiss, Daddy” and “I luv you.” A little bit of my life seeps away when she goes to sleep, but bursts anew when I hear her cry “MommyDaddy” the next morning, and I get her out of her crib to her delighted cries of “‘mornin’ Daddy.” I can live with this pain.

The incidents started from the very beginning, and has continued without letting up. An ill-placed baby-leg-stretch while I held her in my lap when she was 2 months old. A unwitting, overenthusiastic punch to my crotch while she was learning to crawl. Painful, yes. But usually glancing blows, causing discomfort not crippling pain.

But now she runs. Fast. Recklessly. Straight at me. As I said, she’s now almost two years old. She’s tall for her age, which brings her head, exactly to the height of my . . . . sensitive area where my two little friends reside.

Most of the time, I crouch down as she runs into my arms. However, this time she comes barreling to see me, when I become distracted by a question from my dear wife. The irresistible force of my daughters beautiful head smashed with perfect aim into my immovable objects, and something definitely gave. I immediately crumple to the floor in overwhelming pain. My angelic daughter stares confused as I writhe on the ground, tears flowing, my hands wrapped around my crotchal area. She looks over to Mommy who is also on the ground, but Mommy is laughing hysterically. I can almost read her mind as she decides this is a great new game, so she drops herself to the floor and rolls around with Daddy and Mommy, giggling with pure, unadulterated joy.

I’m in pain.
It is a pain I gladly accept.
It is a small price to pay.

Boy, I can sympathize.

Baby Kate is 28 months now and she’s just the right height to give me a good, solid rack job with her skull.

And every afternoon when I pick her up from Daycare she charges at me full steam to give me a hug around the knees and WHAM!

I’ve learned to move quickly.

Last night my son was climbing up on me and stepped right on my pelvic bone. I screamed. I think he probably feels cheated that he didn’t get to apply enough pain and pressure there during his birth (they finally took him out via c-section). He must be making up for it. Ow.

My husband has gotten the foot in the testicles thing many times. Looks like our son is adding insurance to our plan to have only one child.

Sounds like you need a cup…

…and she needs a helmet.

:smiley:

Hope you feel better.

YeeHeeHee Hamlet! I’m there, brother.
There’s something about my little one’s shoes… their soles can rack me with the force of OddJob’s hat.

My daughter, our first, was born in mid November. They must be pretty close.

Are they not an incredible joy (sans the scroat soccer)? She’s the reason I rush out of here at 4:30 every day. Just can’t wait to see the midget again.

And Cranky… Ouuuuccccchhhhhh!

Dammit, thats funny! My little dude has kicked me in the cajones more than a few time, I can tell ya! I like to lay on the couch with him on my chest, and I have the choice of keeping him up high (drools in my face, pulls my hair) or keeping him a little lower, arms just out of reach of my hair. This positions him perfectly to deliver the speculative thunder-kick to the groin, which he does while unleasing a squeal of delight.

Ah, ain’t kids great? Wouldn’t trade him for anything.


May the mediocrity of several greeting-card salesman inhabit your soul like unmatched buttons in a empty mayonaise jar.

For Halloween, let her dress up as a pre WW1 Imperial German Prussian NCO.

Bwhaahaahaa!

Damn Mull, that was hilarious.

Ahhhhh, the ability to walk upright again.

I had no idea that this was so widespread, and that it occurred to both genders. Perhaps there is a support group we could join for Survivors of Children who Smack them in Delicate Areas. A much overlooked community that screams out for a government grant. This is a catastrophe of epic proportions, and needs to be stopped. A protective cup in every Crotch!!! Hell of a warcry.

Just dont give her the helmet Mullinator just showed you.

Gah! Remove one of those justs.

You decide which one, but don’t forget to capitalize the ‘D’ if its the former.

I truly symathize. However I must warn you, there are more dangerous things they are capable of.

I used to take naps with my daughter when she was 2 and several times she was facing away from me and turned over in her sleep, leading with her elbow which I caught in the nose. Once or twice good enough to give me a profusely bleeding nose and 2 black eyes.

I’ll definitely give you the fact that the whack in the nuts is a killer - but be warned, it’s only one of MANY tricks they have.

Damn good thing we love 'em SOOOO much! :smiley:

I’ve got a 2000 model as well. Mine’s got the stick shift though. 4/19.

He’s managed to whack my cajones up to my throat a few times. I’ve never been able to put it as eloquently as Hamlet though. I just manage a “Daddy…needs …to …lie …down …for …a …while.”

I don’t think it’s especially funny, and I worry about a woman who can laugh at her husband when he’s in excruciating pain. I wouldn’t stay married to such a person.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
::snort::

Sorry, but I needed a laugh right now.

screech-owl
(who, as a young owlet, managed to connect straight on with dad (accidently) with her glass baby bottle - back when they [the bottles] were still made with glass)

I have a moderate amount of chest hair…(although not Saquatchy)

I have a 13 month old daughter.

Do the math.

:eek:

I’m horrified that she’d laugh. Poor ((((((Hamlet)))))). My daddy taugh me at a young age that groin injuries are never funny. You know, though, if I didn’t know you were talking about a groin-kicking, I’d have figured I wandered into a thread about menstral cramps, because that’s exactly- even down to the weakness in your legs- bad ones feel like. I bet your wife has an easy time of it if she could laugh at you.

I don’t have kids. I have a CAT. With razor. sharp. claws. and cold feet. He’s too little to realise that if he hurts the warm place he’s not allowed to stay there. He’s becoming quite good at rolling with the fall…

“That’s why God makes babies so cute. It’s so you don’t kill 'em.” --Gallagher

I’m not a parent, but I’m the oldest of three siblings and can sympathize with the ability of young children to inadvertantly cause parents excruciating pain.

And Mullinator, I cringed and pinched my knees together just looking at that picture. Dude, you are one sick and twisted human being.

I really admire that in a person. :smiley:

One more victim over here, Hamlet. I’m with beagledave, too, and the delightful game of ‘make Daddy wince.’

Our little one has just discovered a new mental game to play with me, to add to the fun. See, she considers me naked when I run around the house in just a pair o’ shorts. She will then take great delight, when we’re out later in the day, in mentioning at the top of her voice that “Daddy naked for b’eakfast.” Or “Daddy naked an’ we watch teevee,” when Mrs. Skeezix asks her over dinner (only when we’re eating out, naturally) what she did that day.

I had hoped (foolishly, I know) that the embarassing public outcries wouldn’t start until she’d at least hit 2 years old, but…
Oh well.

[sub]She knows bloody well what naked really means. We all have to shout “Naked Baby!” whenever she gets stripped to the buff for a bath, and then runs from her room to the bathroom.[/sub]