Things have been a little rough around here lately with double ear infections and each of us passing around a cold, the symptoms of which include a sore throat and a really bad attitude. Since Sunday, we’ve spent some nice quality time in the wee, small hours of the night trying to teach Sadie how to both cough and breathe in the middle of an REM sleep cycle.
The lack of sleep was getting to me. Additionally, for the third time in my married life, I was battling some serious PMS. (Third time? Yes. Third time. When you get married at 7 weeks pregnant and then nurse until you get pregnant again and then nurse your second until he’s 13-months-old and counting, you don’t get a lot of periods, among other things (like sleep or nice bras).) By the third night of Sadie’s midnight attacks my body was starting to shut down and reject normal functioning.
On Wednesday morning, about 2:00 a.m. I heard Jeff get up to go sleep on our first floor.
“Where are you going?” I mumbled.
“Downstairs to sleep.” Jeff replied.
Later, he broke it to me that I was snoring so loud that he couldn’t possibly sleep.
Does this get any sexier? Oh, yes, dear Internet, it sure does.
Approximately five hours later, I hear Simon stirring in his room, which means I have a few minutes before I am on duty. Oh what to do with those precious few morning minutes I have to myself! This Wednesday morning I treated myself to a gulp of fresh Chicago tap water and a solitary trip to the bathroom for a peaceful morning pee, also known as, a little slice of heaven on Earth. As soon as I stood up to execute my moves, I realized that the menstrual cramps were serious– as in, where the EF is the epidural for this pain? Ever since having children my pain threshold has decreased, which means if I was really going to go all Dugger and have 17 children, by the time I birthed my 7th child, I would literally expire from a hang nail.
So, I am hobbling to the bathroom where my morning ritual now includes getting some Midol on an asap basis. None of this is a problem; I am a multi-tasker. I can see it all unfolding in my head: Grab the water and Midol as I make my way to the toilet and while I am peeing, I can swallow the pills and chase it down with bathroom-tap water.
All I remember after that is that a huge cramp rolled over my body before I could swallow the pills. I am almost certain I screamed out in agony as my body spontaneously broke out in sweats and shakes. The next thing I know, I am “coming to” with my cheek on the bathroom floor and my glasses across the room.
I called out for Jeff and then remembered that he is on the first floor because his hot mess of a wife is a snorer and is also a fainter.
“Holy all that is good in the world, I just fainted from menstrual cramps and fell off the toilet. Now what the hell do I do?” These are the thoughts of a woman stone-cold sober crumbled in the 2 foot space between her toilet and her shower wall.
I could see my phone on the edge of the counter. I scooched my heavy, broken-ass body over and grabbed the phone to call Jeff on the first floor.
“Um Jeff. Sorry to wake you up. I think I just fainted. Can you come get me?”
Had I been in a more lucid mood, I could have made a joke about the old commercial about the infirm lady who has “fallen and can’t get up.” It’s actually not so funny anymore, right?
Unfortunately, Sadie came into the bathroom when my consciousness was still questionable, which I can only imagine was traumatizing for her. One minute she thinks she’s going to see her veritable “ray of sunshine” mother with arms stretched out for a morning hug, but she rounds the corner and there I am with my pants around my ankles and my face planted on the floor. “Gee, Sadie, are you so excited about one day getting your period just like Mama? This is so much more fun than it looks to you right now.”
Jeff arrived on the scene shortly thereafter and triaged me back to bed and fixed my glasses to boot. I am now taking more Midol for the aforementioned menstrual cramps, as well as the bruised cheek, forehead and chin from my amazing journey from the toilet to the floor. I am humbled. I thought such mishaps were for the drunk or the feeble, neither of which accurately captures me. I can’t decide whether to get on Amazon to order a med-alert bracelet or a helmet I can just hang next to the toilet paper. Maybe a matching set. I think one of my Pinterest pins includes a “how-to” bedazzle your safety gear. This could be a great craft project for the next rainy day.
In any case, my injuries are still mystifying and painful enough to prevent me from thinking too long or too hard about the ramifications of my husband (1) leaving our martial bed because of my raucous snoring, and (2) subsequently finding me on the bathroom floor after a nasty fall off the toilet. This little episode set me back on the project to embody the “I feel sexy even though I am a mom” state of mind.
Yes, definitely a setback.
Let us never speak of this again.