The story of how the lawnmower ate my face

A while ago, like maybe a month ago… or longer, Kendall walked up to the lawnmower right after Scott turned it off, touched it, and burned his finger pretty good. He had an “owie” there for quite a while, even after the blister popped, and though it’s healed now, he still holds his hand out for me to kiss while saying, “mawnmower, HOT, owie.” And so I kiss it and we talk about not touching the lawnmower because it’s hot and will give owies. In fact, he now associates anything hot, or really, anything that gives owies to the “mawnmower.” Anytime he gets hurt he blames the mawnmower.  (Scott’s afraid this is going to lead to some sort of mowing-the-lawn-phobia, thus defeating the purpose of having a boy around in 13 years, but I remind him we have plenty of time for therapy between now and then.)

My face, as of about 2 or 3 weeks ago (can you tell my perception of time is all stretched and bunched like a fun house mirror from laying around the house completely useless for so long?) began erupting into a minefield of  8th grade, smells like Teen Spirit, greasy, mountainous acne. The kind that hurts so bad that you just want to pop it and be done with it, but that has built a fortress of steel around itself, sending the stuff you want out further into your face every time you try to squeeze it, leaving you with no other choice but to wage war on your face until you’re left with giant, bright red, painful splotches that eventually scab up and can never be properly concealed by any sort of concealer. You know, that kind?

I type this only after knocking on every piece of wood within arm’s reach. I *think* the acne has passed. I’ve gone nearly a week without a new breakout on my face (though I did have a particularly nasty one on my neck, and if I could get a matching one right next to it, I might be able to pass it off as some cool new vampire trend). That’s not to say that damage is not still evident, though, because I guess it takes your face FOREVER to generate new skin. So my point is, last week I had a face full of scabs.

My darling son, so brilliant, pointed to my head one night before bed last week. I, thinking we were playing the “name that body part” game again, began rattling off, “Nose? Eyes? Ears?” He looked at me confused and said, “Momma, owie. MAWNMOWER,” while pointing to the battlefield that is my face.

Yes, yes. The lawnmower ran over my face, leaving owies all over the f-ing place. This has absolutely nothing to do with hormones and everything to do with renegade lawn equipment. Let’s tell ourselves that, shall we?

Kendall is 2 and hilarious and I’m 11 weeks pregnant

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  1. Oh man, I laughed so hard at this! Their tender sincerity has the ability to slay us … even as they’re saying the most horrible things.

    My Billy likes me to blow on his tummy. One day he said, “Blow on Mama’s tummy!” So I dutifully raised my shirt and he started blowing on my ab area (or where it used to be before two pregnancies).

    After a couple of seconds, he lowered my shirt and shook his head sadly. “This tummy is too big,” he said and just walked away.

    • Oh, I am heartily laughing out loud, for real. I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, hopefully with you. It’s a damn good thing they’re cute 🙂

  2. This post made me laugh, perhaps because my little guy is now in his 8th month, and I STILL am fighting crazy hormonal acne (probably due to breastfeeding). Maybe I’ll start telling people the “mawnmower” did it…

  3. I’ve got two items for you.

    Benzaclin–HEAVEN for pregnancy acne. You’ll have to ask your OB for it, though. It saved my face.

    Garnier’s The Brush Gel Cleanser–I love this stuff. It’s cool and refreshing which makes me actually want to wash my face every night, plus the brush on the top that you use to scrub your face with helps slough off the gross stuff.

    Eventually, my son will be old enough to do the same thing Kendall is doing. And when that happens, I will probably collapse into a heap of tears and snot.

    • Thanks for the recommendations! You know, I really just had to laugh at him. Of course, he did it when nobody else was around. Might have been a whole new level of embarrassment if he said it in public.

  4. My daughter recently told my husband, while looking at his ever-growing bad spot, “What happened to your missing hair?” Out of the mouths of babes…not like we don’t already feel self-conscious enough.

    My face broke out for nine months (and after) when pregnant with my daughter. With my son, it looked better than it had since I was twelve. Eight additional months of a beautiful complexion later, it’s finally going back to a middle ground. For what it’s worth, what I did differently the second time around was use The Body Shop’s tea tree oil foaming face wash and Oil of Olay Regenerist Serum.

    • I have to wonder if it’s a gender thing? Everyone keeps telling me that breakouts mean it’s a girl. Guess we’ll see 🙂

  5. I am just laughing that your husband thinks K is going to mow the yard in 13 years. Mine is CONVINCED Jack (20 months) is going to mow the yard in 6 years. SIX! YEARS!

  6. Don’t you love it when you hope and pray blemishes aren’t that noticeable, then a toddler *lovingly* points at your face and loudly asks about your “owie”? Kiddos are so great for self esteem.

    It’s hilarious that he blames the lawnmower. If he’s smart he will definitely use this blog post as an excuse as to why he definitely can’t do yard work.

  7. The lawnmower got loose on my shoulders and back last week. I don’t know WHAT happened but it looks like I’ve got the freaking pox or something. I can’t even wear tank tops (which is so totally awesome now that it’s summertime!) I was hoping it was pregnant hormones.. But… ya know… IT’S NOT.

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