Yeah. That would be nice.
I'll set the scene. 1:20am, cell phone rings in the kitchen. Took a Tylenol PM for a headache and am awoken by said ringing phone. Baby gate is up in the kitchen to keep Max, the dog, penned in for the night.
So, I hear the phone, groggily run through the pitch-black house toward the kitchen. And-- SMACK!! My legs are suddenly taken out from under me by the stupid baby gate. The thought of a thigh-high obstacle blocking my entrance to the kitchen never crossed my mind. The next thing I know, I'm picking my jaw up off the floor and assessing the damage. I fell face-first onto the linoleum and I hope I don't have to say, "Don't try this at home." My two front teeth loosened up and merged slightly behind my incisors. My chin is bruised, jaw throbs, hip bones are bruised, but nothing hurts like my pride.
Seriously, how does one fall face-first?! Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I'm just glad I still have my front teeth. Coulda been worse.
The next three days consisted of yogurt, fruit smoothies, jello, and soft bread. Every so soft and ever so boring. By day 4 my teeth are prety much tightened back up to what they use to be. I'm still scared to try chewing with them though. To the naked eye, they look fine. Can't tell it ever happened. Only me, myself, and my tongue can tell/feel the difference in their placement.
Ah yes, the best part of it all. Trent was sleeping in the backyard with the older two girls and heard the loud noises and yells coming from inside the house. Did he rush in and make sure I wasn't being beaten, robbed, or stabbed? Nope. Fell back to sleep and checked on me in the morning. Thank you honey, glad you have my back.
Oh yeah, and I know you're wondering if the phone call was my brother saying his wife is in labor or a call that a loved one's on their way to the hospital? Nope. Wrong number. Word to the wise, don't freaking call me at 1am unless you're birthing a baby or substantially wounded. Thank you.