Accidents Will Happen
At 2:40am on Saturday morning, Al and I were awoken by about six twentysomethings chatting loudly outside our hotel room. Despite two frustrated SHHHes from me and a "dudes! I'm serious! My kid is asleep in here," they didn't shut up until they'd all piled into the room across the hall and gone to sleep themselves.
When I saw that we were the only guests at this hotel aside from a large wedding group, I figured we were in for another night of the same.
Despite the clocks rolling back an hour, the first loud group came back at 2:35am EST. I couldn't get back to sleep with a semi-full bladder, so I got up to pee. Unfortunately, in the extremely dark room I misjudged where the toilet was by about 3 or 4 inches. I know, it sounds hilarious—and I'd be laughing right along with you if my back hadn't crashed into the toilet bowl on the way down.
The bruise on my butt from hitting the ceramic tile is nothing compared to the knob-bruise on my spine. It burned for a couple hours, which is how I knew the bruise would be a bad one. I could walk back to the bed, however, so I was pretty sure I hadn't done any serious damage—and I *was* able to fall asleep with an icepack that Al helpfully fetched for me pressed against my back.
That icepack was still cold when I heard the Beaner yell, "Mom! Where are you?" and responded "in here, buddy!", which woke Al. "Who are you talking to?" he asked. Me: "Oh, I thought I heard the Beaner say, 'Mom, where are you?'" Just then the Beaner made it clear that I wasn't just dreaming by saying loudly, "Mom, I'M WET."
Well, crap. I'd asked Al after the Beaner fell asleep whether he'd peed before getting in bed, and Al had responded that he'd peed after swimming and before getting in the tub. He normally pees before getting in the tub, but we'd had some extra time between bathtime and bedtime, and my mind calculated that he'd been due for one more pee before going to sleep. Add in the fact that we were in a hotel, and it was practically guaranteed that he'd wet the bed. (He hasn't wet the bed at home in six months or more, but he has accidents in probably one out of every three or four hotel rooms.)
The good news is that Al totally took care of everything. He washed down and re-jammied the Beaner, who got in bed with me for a few minutes, and then made up the pull-out couch (this was a lucky stroke; the suite had a queen bed for us, a queen murphy bed—which the Beaner had been sleeping in—and a queen sleeper sofa).
It was while the Beaner was snuggling me that the second group of wedding guests tramped noisily down the hall, stealing Privacy Please hangers off of doorknobs (actually, it could have been the first group that had done the stealing; I don't know for sure). I think by this time it was about 3:40am EST. I thought, "thank god for small favors"; they could have easily come when I wasn't already awake, and in that case there might have been another accident in the hallway. An accident involving strangulation by icepack.