How I Got That Black Eye
I keep telling him to stop hitting me so hard. Our son likes to leap out of nowhere and hug me tight enough to crush my spine and ribs.
Okay, you caught me in hyperbole, but it feels that way. He does hit me like a mini-linebacker. Occasionally, now that he’s taller, his head hits my cheek. I love his enthusiasm, but the effects—not so much.
This morning, the dog woke me up early. Rather than force myself back to sleep, I took a few minutes to try out new eye liner and shadow. I don’t normally bother, but after the, “wow, you look cute today!” response from Hubby, I just might wear it more often.
Luckily, the kid didn’t hit me during application, or more than my ribs might be bruised. He did, however, accost me a few minutes later. After castigating him (no, not castrating…it may help obedience in puppies but is frowned upon regarding children) yet again, I limped out the door.
We spent the afternoon in sweltering heat at a crowded festival. And boy, did I get some great pictures of Americana (and Weird-Eccentric-ana). But that’s another post.
I, misreading the morning weather yet again, wore jeans. Everyone was sticky and sweaty and…yes, a bit stinky. My eyes stung; not sure whether from the odor or from the sunblock running down my face. On the shuttle back to the parking lot, at least six individuals definitely had neglected deodorant AND had eaten raw onions.
By the time we arrived home, I was ready for bed. I flipped the light switch and reached for soap, intending to wash my face. I was NOT prepared for what I saw.
There were no mirrors at the festival, so I’d been unaware of the state of my cheekbone, and Hubby hadn’t said a word. I stared.
A very BIG black eye stared back.
I’ve never had a black eye, but I’ve seen them, and this one was definitely a shiner. I started toward the bathroom door, intending to show the boy exactly why I’ve asked him to stop tackling me.
I stopped for a closer look. It didn’t just shine. It…sparkled.
What I’d thought was a black eye was actually black eyeliner and blue eye shadow mixed with salty sunblock. I had makeup smeared all down my cheek.
THIS is why we can’t have nice things.
No, wait, that’s another corollary. THIS is why I never wear makeup.
My main concern has become twofold:
- My family let me walk around like this for hours
- We ran into several of the kids’ teachers, and they now think I’m a victim of domestic abuse (or they just think I’m really bad at wearing makeup)
Today, I pillow my head a little humbler, a little wiser. I’ve learned my lesson.
Next time I wear makeup, it’s going to be waterproof.