Monday was a "Teacher Inservice Day". I don't know if you all have these in your district or not ... but we have a ton of them. I know, I know ... they are important. The teacher needs these days to prepare. To learn. To be the best they can be while teaching our kiddos. But I think they are crap. Probably because they always fall on Monday. If they were on Wednesdays, I think I'd have a completely different opinion. Just sayin'
Anyway, this is not about school. Or teacher inservice days. Or Wednesdays. It's about Mondays. Particularly this past Monday.
The day started just as any other day would ... only I was being jolted awake at 6:30am for NO REASON ... since the children didn't have school. Apparently, my kids feel that school or no school, I should be up preparing their nutritious breakfast before the freakin' sun gets up. Note to self: Stock up on PopTarts.
I won't give you the details of the day, since it was a typical day and I can sum it up in one sentence. My kids misbehaved, didn't listen to a word I said, drove me freakin' crazy and then I lost my mind. Again.
There.
Fast forward to late afternoon. I was preparing to get Emily ready for her soccer game, waiting for Big Daddy to come retrieve her. Negotiations between her and I took place earlier that afternoon awarding me a "pass to opt out" of attending her event. While I would have liked nothing else but to see 16 kindergartners running around in the rain and mud for an hour, I really needed to spend some time with my sewing machine since I was participating in the local "Fall Fest" craft show this weekend. Keyword: WAS.
So, there I was. Organized. Extra time before Big Daddy was to arrive. I cracked open a beer to celebrate my accomplishment. Tipped it up to my lips and took a nice, big, long swig ... and then the phone rang.
It seems as though Jake was playing football up the street with some friends and was now bleeding from his head. Yup. My neighbor informed me of this ... because they called HER rather than me. Ya see, here in our neighborhood, we prefer to have the mothers of the non-injured kids run through the rain to tend to the injured children. I mean, HELLO, the parent of the bleeding child was enjoying her celebratory beverage, she couldn't be bothered.
I'm kidding.
Kinda.
The girls and I jumped in the car and headed five houses up the street ... where I found Jake laying on the stairs in the foyer, ON THEIR BRAND NEW CARPET, with a towel to his forehead. Covered in blood.
Needless to say, I had to place a call to my sewing machine to reschedule our date ... because I would be sitting in the Urgent Care for the next 3 hours ... with beer on my breath ... while Jake got sewn up. So technically there was sewing involved ... it just wasn't fabric.
To think we were nervous that Drew would get hurt playing football ... NA! It was Jake. And as it turns out, the gash in his head wasn't caused by playing the greatest game on earth. Nope. They were playing some version of hide and seek and he was hiding in front of a door. Well, what do you know ... when you hide in front of a door and someone opens it ... you'll cut your head open.
Don't say I never taught you anything. This blog is very educational.
And yes, that is my sixth grade boy ... with a clippie in his hair ... and I posted it. Because I'm mean like that. Hey ... at least it matches his shirt.
Sorry for the long post.
I guess I could have just said, "Monday afternoon Jake had an accident and cut his head. He needed 5 stitches."
Yeah, that would have probably been a lot easier.
