Yowzer

For the past few years I have been unsuccessfully trying to get The Boss to sleep in his own big boy bed. I don't bother any more so he sleeps in mine with the rule that NO toys come into mama's room. Also unsuccessful.

3:55am. I got up to use the bathroom and tripped over an aircraft carrier that I had shoved to the floor when I went to bed. I pitched forward in total darkness, falling spectacularly in face-first-look-ma-no-hands style. The bridge of my nose and my right eye slammed into the hard edge of The Boss' hamper. You really do see stars and little birdies just like in the cartoons.

I lay on the floor for a few minutes clutching my eye so it wouldn't pop out and roll across the carpet collecting dust bunnies. When I got up a little voice chimed from somewhere behind me, "Are you ok?". Always searching for those "teachable moments" I told him, "THAT'S why we don't bring toys into mama's room."

I flipped on lights as I went downstairs to get an icepack and a glass of water to suck down a bunch of aspirin. Usually I leave the lights off, feeling my way down the stairs and navigating the rest from memory, but I was taking no chances that a stray Thomas Train or Transformer would be my secondary downfall.

Assessing the damage in the bathroom mirror, I found a small cut and a large Cromagnum-like swelling between my eyes, the beginnings of a shiner, and a nasty red splotch on my right eyeball. Ewwwwwww.

When I finally returned to bed, a Hotwheels car had taken my spot.