In the fourth grade, I fell out of bed.
I don’t actually remember falling out of bed, as I apparently didn’t wake up. My mom tells me that she came into my room and found me on the floor, my feet tangled in the sheets, and blood oozing from my eyelid, having hit my nightstand on the way to the ground. She untangled me, carried me to the bathroom (I was tiny), and put one of those super thin band-aids on my eyelid.
I have a small scar on my right eyelid to this day.
When the boys moved to their toddler beds and later into their big boy beds, I never questioned whether or not they would have a nightstand. Obviously not! The fact that we still lived in the old house as both boys made both transitions helped me in this regard. Their rooms were small, and in an effort to keep them neat, we went minimalist with their furniture. Less stuff to bash your face off seemed like a good idea to me.
After we moved into this house last year and got our furniture and lives situated, we realized the boys’ bedrooms could fit (a lot) more furniture. At the same time, the boys both fell in love with reading by themselves at bedtime. Since they didn’t have nightstands with lamps atop, we would have to leave their ceiling light on at bedtime. Instead of getting out of bed, turning it off, and getting back in bed, they would open their doors and wander out, seeking another tuck in, another kiss, another hug. One or both of us adults would herd them back to bed, tuck them in — again — and turn off the light. Again.
This Sunday, I bought the boys nightstands and lamps.
I do have that internal worry that my flippy-floppy, tossy-turny, all-over-the-bed sleepers will fall out of bed and bash their eyelids on their nightstands. If not now, then when they’re teenagers and too big for me to untangle from sheets and drag across the hall to their bathroom. I’m sure that such a thing will happen on a night my husband is working at the fire department, because that’s my luck. But for all my (ridiculous, unnecessary, unwarranted) worry, the boys are so excited. If I had known that their own nightstands, their own lamps, and the ability to turn them off and on according to their own desires would make these two so happy, I would have made the purchases earlier.
I didn’t quite expect to miss the extra kisses and hugs and tuck ins so much, but I also didn’t know how opening the bedroom door to deliver some freshly folded laundry and finding my youngest son reading would make me feel.
Reading Fall Is for Friends while wearing monster pajamas sitting atop The Very Hungry Caterpillar sheets underneath a fire truck comforter with a Buzz Lightyear pillow case as all of the stuffed animals sit in the darkness, watching their owner read.
Who knew a nightstand — which once caused a scar — would cause my mommy heart to grow all the more.