The Ow Factor

I'm pretty much a sight for sore eyes these days, what with the under-eye circles, the limp hair, and the stained sweats.
But every now and again Doug and I are able to venture out for a night of baby-free fun and as tired as we may be we somehow manage to look and feel like our lives haven't been turned upside down.
Naturally, I cherish these date nights because they're an opportunity to enjoy some quality time with my husband.  But I have to admit that there's more to it... being able to put on some makeup and wear my hair down without Mackenzie slobbering all over my face or pulling my hair is absolutely liberating.


The one thing I can't manage to leave behind however, is what I've dubbed The Ow Factor.
Pregnancy and delivery take a toll on the female body for sure, with some of the effects bordering on comical (peeing when you sneeze and needing a forklift for your boobs are just a couple of examples).
But most of these "aftershocks" can be remedied with a little bit of patience and a whole lot of discipline (Kegals and pushups are your friends).
While the last nine months have breezed by, I sometimes physically feel like I'm back to square one.  My body aches and my mind is numb.  
And no matter how many times a week I exercise or how much sleep I get, I have a vague sense of deja vu where I can actually picture myself in the postpartum room at the hospital slurping on some room temperature Jello. 
A few months ago I dusted off the heating pad to treat an injured knee... Two weeks later Doug came home to find me propped up on the couch icing one leg while heating the other.
My right hip is stiff and sore from carrying Mackenzie on it all day long. 
My wrists hurt from picking her up and putting her down every five seconds, since lately I can't so much as pee without bringing her with me.  Today I took a chance and left the bathroom door open and she made a run for the staircase before I could flush.
My neck and shoulders have been bothering me for the last week and a half because she now takes up the majority of the bed when I nurse her in the mornings and I'm left hanging off the side with my face grazing the floor.
Add to this the random casualties endured throughout a typical day:
Accidentally stepping on a toy block... 
Catching an errant high chair tray with the top of my foot... 
Getting head butted by Mackenzie when the sun gets in her eyes and she turns toward my shoulder for shade... 
Yet this all pales in comparison to the wrath I have for today's ultra conservative crib standards... the very standards that require my child's bed to be lowered to such an extreme that it skims the surface of the carpet in her nursery... the very standards that, in turn, cause me to lift 20 pounds of dead weight using only my back every time Mackenzie wakes up. 
So now I know the reason why Barack Obama once quipped that his wife Michelle had the right to "bare" arms.  
Motherhood is a grueling workout in and of itself. 
It will tone your biceps and triceps and leave you reaching for a couple of Advil and a tube of Icy Hot the next morning.
And on some days, when things are especially hectic, even your hair will hurt.