I could tell you the story as if I tracked down the kids that borke into our house and had a throwdown.
Or I could tell you that I got in a fight with some lady over clearance rack shoes, and you should see her face.
Or I could tell you that I took on a bear that charged at our car on hwy 7. I subdued it.
Or I could tell you that I decided to follow in my borther's footsteps and started a fight night.
But none of that is true.
The truth is Jax hit me with the keys.
We were at walmart. We'd made it all the way through grocery shopping with no crying or whinning or bribing even. And as I was trying to load Jax and the bags, he decided that he wanted to drive. He refused to give me the keys back. He proceed to pitch a fit in the parking lot. As any mom does, you try to minimize the scene that you are currently making while still maintaining control and authority.
Jax hit me right smack dab on the cheek bone under my right eye. It stung, and hurt...I won't lie. But at that moment, I was just trying to get Jax in the car and not make any more of a spectacle than we already were. So when I finally got myself in the car and looked in the rear view mirror, I gasped. There was knot under my eye sticking out so far that I didn't even have to look down to try to see it. And it was already a deep shade of purple, it was filling with blood to fast furiously.
I sighed heavily and turned around to look at my crying son,
"Thanks for the black eye, in advance."
I bruise really easily. So I knew it was going to be a good one. And sure enough by the next morning, the swelling had gone down and I had a rainbow sweeping under my eye a good 2 to 3 inches deep.
I thought ahead to all the questions and shock and awe I'd get for the next week. All the cracks I'd hear about Kyle getting rough. I managed. I told the story a million times, put up with people staring at me or gasping, "Good night nurse! What happened to you?"
But what is even more awkward that we found is the people that don't say a word. Clearly they see it. Clearly it wasn't there yesterday. Clearly they are just going to assume. Even friends would look at me with wide eyes, but never say a word. Really?
This was hilarious to me and to Kyle. I mean, say that Kyle had gotten irate with me and had punched me or something. Shouldn't people be concerned? Shouldn't people make sure I'm okay? Shouldn't you call the police?
I wore purple alot because you might as well color coordinate, right? And at least purple is my favorite color.