I mean, I could tell you about how I've had a headache all day, because that was pretty exciting.
Or, I could tell you about hanging out in Waco yesterday on the river with Alex's family, which was pretty fun, but there's not really a story there. I was really sweaty.
Oh, and I almost forgot! Our coffee maker broke. Maybe I should just write a post about that?
I could make a bunch of stuff up, but just seems like more work than my head will allow right now.
So...this happened last week. I'm sure something will happen this week and I'll be forced to really write tomorrow.
I like to think of myself as a pretty good Mother.
I also like to think I'm really good at dancing...so maybe my judgement isn't always spot on about everything.
I might not always be joyful or giddy about being with my children all day all the time, but for the most part I feel involved, aware, and connected to them.
I know the important stuff about their personality, how they like their sandwhich to be cut (do not cut into two rectangles or they will freak,) and whether or not they can handle the feeling of a mock turtleneck, that's a no for Aiden.
I can tell you the exact color of their eyes, well except for Aiden because they are this amazing combination of hazel, grey, blue that doesn't have a color name. So, that's not really my fault.
I know the location where their hair will cowlick. I know the exact cause of their tantrum, their tummy ache or the fight with their sibling. I'm involved. I'm around.
Unfortuantely, all this information still does not allow me to predict the things they will carry to and from school for over a week without my knowledge.
One day I simply find myself carrying a backpack full of empty shotgun shells and I wonder how this is possible, why I know what these are, and why do I live in this state?
After I brought Aiden's backpack inside from the bustop the other day, I hear something clanging around inside the bag. I find this when I open the bag.
For those of you that are not familiar because you aren't surrounded by this sort of thing very often, because you are normal, those are shotgun shells. Empty shotgun shells, but all the same they feel inappropriate for school.
I remember him coming inside from a visit to his Aunt and Uncle's house with an arm full of these that he had found around their driveway. Stuff like that happens here in Texas.
So, this is just my friendly reminder to all of you to take a gander inside your kid's backpack daily, just in case they are packing a ridiculous amount of ammunition.
Oh, and tip number two...once you take them out of your kid's backpack you should probably put these away or you'll find your other children playing with them all over the house and you'll have to yell things like, "Cole! Pick up these shotgun shells so I can vacuum!" OR "Cole, the letter you made out of shutgun shells is still on the kitchen table!"
I don't want to be saying those things.
I now have a thorough backpack check every morning when putting in his lunch box.
You never know what he might be picking up in the hood.