My Break From BlogHer.

I have been known to break my nose whilst blogging.

I have also been known to visit the emergency room at wee hours due to sleepwalking injuries.

I like sticking to a theme.

Which is why, I suppose, I took this weekend as an opportunity to break my nose, while sleepwalking, while at a blogging conference.

Friday night.  It had been a full day of BlogHer, and I was excited for a night of deep sleep in preparation for my San Diego Date Saturday with Chris.

We settled down for bed, and I fell asleep before Chris made it back from brushing his teeth.

It was glorious experience to inhale the deep aroma of sleep.

Until about 1 AM.

At which time I dreamed that Noah was running toward a balcony edge to the left of the bed.

Naturally, I jumped up and sprinted toward him, doing my Mommy job of saving him from all danger…

Which is when I discovered how close the wall was to my side of the bed.

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THWAP.

I crushed my nose and my left knee into the wall.

…which woke me up enough to remember that Noah couldn’t walk yet, certainly couldn’t run, and also happened to be 2,000 miles away.

Chris didn’t move, being quite used to wives that go bump in the night.

I crawled back into bed and fell asleep, albeit a bit damaged.

Then came 2 AM.

I dreamed some combination of Ali running toward a cliff and being on an intense search for The Deathly Hallows.

Naturally, I jumped out of bed and sprinted toward her.

Which is when I was reminded how close the wall was to my side of the bed.

THWAP.

I also discovered that I run much faster at 2 AM than I do at 1 AM.

The pain in my nose (and my knee) created tears – the kind that naturally spring forth from sheer agony, not from crying.  I sat down on the corner of the bed and let out my first whimper, considering the weighty reality that I had just managed to run into the same wall twice in one night.

This did not bode well for my 2AM to 8AM sleep shift.

I whimpered again.

I felt my nose.  I heard a crunchy sound.  I was reminded of my favorite childhood cereal.

It was clear that my nose couldn’t withstand that side of the bed anymore.

I nudged Chris.

“Wha…what’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep on this side of the bed anymore.  I’ve sleptrun into the wall two times, and I broke my nose the second time.”

“Oh.  Okay.  I’ll swap sides with you.”

He rolled over to my side and resumed snoring peacefully, in no danger of breaking his nose against the clearly hazardous wall.

I moved to Chris’ side of the bed.  Obviously,  I couldn’t sleep.  My nose was throbbing, I was possibly in shock (okay probably not), and, most disturbing, I was on the wrong side of the bed.

And so my mind began spinning…

2:05 AM: I always thought feng shui was feng crap.  This is not true.  The design of my sleeping environment is so important that it very well may keep me from accidentally offing myself one day.

a.  I need a runway next to my bed.  No walls can be within five feet, and blinking lights need to be added to all surrounding surfaces.

b. No sharp edges on any bedroom furniture can be tolerated.

c. You know what would be perfect? A padded cell.

2:12 AM: It helps to already know that little can be done for broken noses.  You’re not going to get me with your out of state 50% insurance coverage, Blue Cross Blood Suckers!

2:16 AM: It is nice to be rooming with one’s husband.  If this had happened my first year at BlogHer and I’d had to ask my I-Just-Met-Her roommate if she would kindly mind swapping sides of the bed with me to prevent the crushing of my nose for the third time in one night, it might have been slightly embarrassing, aside from taking a bit longer to explain.

2:18 AM: Could I petition for a new Americans With Disabilities Act ordinance that prohibits hotel walls from being within five feet of beds? Because I singlehandedly prove that sleepwalking is a disability.

2:22 AM:  I am so proud to know that my husband no longer doubts my credibility when I tell him that I’ve severely injured myself in my sleep.  Last time, I had to show him the blood streaming down my arm before he quit telling me to get back in bed and go to sleep.  This time, I received his complete and immediate acceptance.

2:36 AM: Maybe too much acceptance.  He sure is sleeping peacefully over there.

2:39 AM: One should never play with their broken nose while laying in bed and pondering their situation.  The sound of tiny particles cracking and grinding is not healthy for one’s nose, one’s pain level, or one’s mental stability.

2:48 AM: My last sleepwalking injury was saving Ali from certain falling, as well.  Obviously, I have issues with small children running in high places.  Noah, don’t do it.  I’m likely to plummet to my death in the attempt to protect you, and that’s a weighty guilt for you to carry for the rest of your life.

2:51 AM: Although a broken nose is quite painful at 2:51 AM, also achy are my neck and shoulders, now most certainly needing an adjustment.  Apparently, hitting the wall at high speeds with one’s nose is not good for alignment.

2:52 AM: The knee rash from multiple contacts with the wall is also bothersome.  Which is pretty petty at this point.

3:01 AM: I can’t sleep on the wrong side of the bed.  Which is worse – not sleeping for the rest of the night, or risking a third injury?

3:09 AM: Not sleeping.

And so I tapped Chris again.

“Wha..what’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep on your side of the bed.  I need you to swap back with me.”

“Okay.”

He rolled back over and continued sleeping hazardlessly.  He has no idea how good he’s got it.

Phantom Baby.

This is one of those posts that’s going to either make you think that I’m a bit crazy, or you’re going to say “YES!!! I’ve experienced that! I’m glad I’m not the only crazy one!”

(So, I guess either way, you’re going to think I’m crazy.)

Oh well.

Chris and I encountered a strange phenomenon when Ali was a baby.  And, although the event itself was odd, we found it even more bizarre that all of our friends had experienced the exact same thing.

Phantom Baby.

You know that piercing, wailing, unignorable newborn scream….and how it seeps into your very pores and your soul is sucked dry within five minutes of it starting?

There’s something about the human brain that can’t completely flush that sound… and can make you believe you’re hearing it, loud and clear, when it’s not present.

We had many experiences with Phantom Baby.  We would be sitting on the couch, enjoying some time away from our precious sleeping newborn, and then all of a sudden, one of us would hear it: the screaming.

We would freeze with horror and fear.

THEN, the Phantom Baby phenomenon would become contagious and spread to the other one.

We would both sit there, listening to Phantom Baby, trying to decide whether it was Real Baby or Phantom Baby.

(Not to be confused with the other bizarre experience I often experienced with Fake Baby.  Although I think that Phantom Baby and Fake Baby might possibly be evil twins, created by my obviously-damaged brain.)

Finally, one of us would begrudgingly go check on our precious infant…and she would be sound asleep.

Phantom Baby.

So, we’re mentally preparing ourselves to deal with Phantom Baby Number Two, as newborn screams will assuredly be filling our houses and sucking our souls dry very soon.

And, oddly enough, I think my sub conscience is very nearly ready … because I experienced a brand new phenomenon a couple nights ago.

Phantom Kid.

I was sitting on the couch, being a total sloth enjoying some nice, relaxing quiet time, and I heard…

“I need to go teeeee-teeeee!!!!!”

It was way too late for Ali to still be awake.

But then it was again…

“I NEED TO GO TEEEEE-TEEEE!!!”

So I managed to hoist my gargantuan self off the couch and head upstairs…

Only to find a completely soundly sleeping kid.

Apparently, Phantom Baby grew up into Phantom Kid.

Soon we’re going to have more Fake and Phantom occupants in our house than real ones…and I’m a little spooked.

She Has Now Taken Over My Dreams.

I admit it: I am apparently in “Mommy Mode” now.

You know that dream you have right as you’re drifting off to sleep that you’re falling and it jerks you awake, as you gasp a huge breath and try to grab ahold of anything to keep from plunging to your death?

That dream varies for me from falling off a tall building to falling out of the bed, but I have it a lot.

(Luckily, so does Chris, so we are equal in our need for apology when we almost knock the other one out of bed with our spastic efforts at saving ourselves.)

Well, I had a very original (and disturbing) twist on it the other night. I was falling asleep very quickly after laying down, and then all of a sudden, I’m sitting in front of the toilet, and Ali is sitting on it. Except that she is sitting completely on the FRONT of the seat of the toilet, and begins peeing, creating a yellow waterfall down into the floor and me. I jump up and shriek to scoot her back and save myself from the impending flood,

and then I awoke with a jolt.

Oh, this is bad. My falling dreams have now turned into potty-training dreams.

Granted, this isn’t the first time I’ve had Mommy dreams. After all, my most injurious sleepwalking episode ever (and, thankfully, the only sleepwalking incident (so far) that resulted in an emergency room visit) was predicated by me trying to save Ali from falling down nonexistent stairs.

But there’s just something about dreaming about POTTY-TRAINING that just sucks all of the individuality right out of you and just makes you feel like MOM.

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Good thing it’s a pretty rewarding job.