My name is Margaret and I'm a passer-outer.

That's right. I faint at the drop of a hat. Pretty much anything can set me off -- the sight of blood, seeing someone I love in pain, even just hearing about something remotely gross. One of my earliest memories is when I wiggled and pulled at my first loose tooth per my sister's suggestion. When it came out and, much to my horror, bled I was out cold. I woke up with my dog licking my face.

In fourth grade I passed out at a school assembly and partially slipped through the bleachers. It must have been uncomfortable with my legs dangling below -- but, I was blissfully unconscious. I've passed out when getting a glaucoma test, when I just heard about the medieval torture an orthodontist wanted to do to my mouth, and when the fumes from an 80s-style spiral perm got the best of me.

I will admit that I've gotten better in recent years. But my somewhat weak constitution has me a bit nervous because Peanut is the world's most rough and tumble little boy.

For example, he decided running down the stairs and jumping the last 3 or 4 was fun. I was OK with that until he tried to up the ante and jump 7 or 8 steps. Suffice it to say that "oos to roose no" (be careful) came out of my mouth A LOT last summer.

I will do everything in my power to keep him from ever getting hurt. I will surround him with bubble-wrap if need be. But still, I predict some major cuts and scrapes in my boy's future. So here's hoping that my stomach gets stronger... because being single there's no one else to deal with the icky stuff while I'm passed out on the floor.