M-Day Aftermath

After feeling the immense love from P.F. Chang's (I mean, my kids) yesterday, reality came crashing back in the form of actual crashes of sorts.

Our war wounds for today:

Jackson:

2 grandiose splinters--removed through minor surgery requiring a very clean, safe, sanitized razor blade. (I am part surgeon, y'all.)

Lilly:

1 busted lip and blood on my new white t-shirt. And my new white jacket. And everywhere.

Don't worry--I was most concerned about her lip. I really didn't care about my carefully selected, bargain-priced new clothing. My first thought was, "These silly clothes aren't eternal!"

I actually panicked because the blood gush was so great that it pooled around her teeth and I feared that YET ANOTHER tooth was mangled because of a fall.

For those scoring at home, she has two teeth with sizeable chunks out of them due to some wild collisions with the driveway (which is not made of foam) as a toddler. I didn't think her precious little crooked smile could afford another dent.

I also had to break up a fun game of jump-off-the-top-bunk-onto-a-few-flimsy-pillows that was going on while the neighbor kids were over. It's one thing if my cherubs break a bone due to stupidity and parental neglect, but its another thing if I have to carry a sweet child with a dangling leg next door and explain what fun(!) they were having when the incident occurred.

My reputation might be confirmed.

And Brad is joining the post-Mother's Day retribution by making me watch some terrible show about how they make police whistles. I can't even imagine the brainstorming session in which someone at the Discovery Channel pitched the idea for an ENTIRE HOUR of police whistle lore.

And someone else said, "YES! POLICE WHISTLES! The public will LOVE it!"

You know how sometimes these shows on the Discovery Channel are so exciting and things that you formerly thought boring are now filled with fascination? (See: penguins and deep-sea fishing.)

Not so much on the whistles. 

I think the shrill sound hits a little too close to home with preschool girls constantly on the prowl. Also, whistles are in the kazoo family, which are my sworn enemies.

Although it did remind me of a Mr. Rogers episode when they visited a plant where french horns were made.

But I don't think I liked that episode, either. I just kept waiting for Mr. Rogers to make some more daring fashion choices rather than simply altering the color of his cardigans. (Very different than my use of tank tops.)

Could he have thrown in a jacket? A button-up cardigan? Short-sleeves? A pair of shorts? A ball cap? Some knickers? A basketball jersey?

I think picturing Mr. Rogers in a wife-beater tank top with bermuda shorts and flip flops might have just been the highlight of my day.

(May he rest in peace.)