Sensory Snapshots: Fresh from the Trenches

Sitting in church yesterday I was starting to get irritated by a wiggly son who kept climbing over me. Then I realized just how unique that particular experience is and that I want to remember and maybe even treasure some of the physical sensations from the nitty-gritty trenches of motherhood. I particularly wanted to think of ones that I might forget someday. I would LOVE all of you to help me with my collection of sensations, be they good, bad, or hilarious. Here are the ones I came up with today:

• velcro or shoebuckles rubbing against my new nylons
• breathing wisps of baby hair up my nose when I lie down a little too close
• the sharp prod of a cabinet child lock to the shoulder when rummaging in my cupboards
• delicate and sweet breathing sounds of a baby
• sound of bedsprings bouncing, then the house-shaking thunk of a body hitting the floor
• pilled-up fleece jammies that can't shake the maple syrup smell
• loss of momentum in a rocker when a second child leans over the arm to see the baby
• the socket-wrenching yank to the arm when the child whose hand you are holding suddenly decides to protest wet-noodle style
• quiet that you notice because it's rare
• Elmer's glue smell of a newborn's diapers
• actually slipping on a banana in real life
• hot, steamy wet baby head against my cheek when first born and then every time I pull them out of the tub
• a child's silky head under my nose, lips and chin when being read to (actually, this doesn't need to be on my list because there is no way I will ever forget this feeling in a million years)
• the weight of a sleeping child across my chest
• "whispering" into your ear so loud it tickles
• slap, slap sound of fleshy bare feet running on bare floor
• the sudden comical popping of a baby's eyes every time the lights go off, the sun goes behind the clouds, or when we drive under an overpass
• the winding up sound of a crib mobile
• sound of scribbling
• yank of two strands of hair caught in a baby's tight sweaty fist, and then trying to undo that fist with one hand while holding onto baby with the other
• the intensity of having four people talk loudly to you at the same time, each completely oblivious of the others
• a lippy, toothless sneeze

What am I missing?