The Bad has reared his ugly head.

My boys spent the weekend with their father, he worked on Saturday. Jacob had a birthday party for a classmate on Saturday, but he didn’t go since his father was working. (I know doesn’t make sense)

When the boys returned home Sunday night, Jacob’s eye was pink, swollen and gooey, father made no comment as he walked away. Then I placed my hand on the back of Jacob’s head, my palm is cover in blood!

Turns out Jacob banged his head around lunch, it’s now 6:45pm.
I call up The Bad to find out what the heck is going on?!

All this must be some sort of figment of my imagination, because The Bad tells me none of this is happening, then proceeds to call me a “stupid b@t?h.” Considering the source of the comment, I’m silent. Slowly, quietly and calmly I state, “I just want to know what kind of father are you?” and hang up. (remember, The Bad is a doctor)

Matthew goes to my mom’s. Jacob and I head to the ER.
He’s got a 1.5 inch cut to the top of his head (stiches not needed) and pink eye.

There is so much wrong with this story.
All that matters is my boys are home,
Jacob is happy and
I did not lower myself.

What do you want to vent about today?