Today is cold in SoCal...a freezing 53 degrees Fahrenheit. Brrrrrrr. Had to break out the sweatshirts.
I was busy making lunch in my polar fleece when I had this realization. If I was a CSI episode and I died right in this moment, forensics experts would have a field day with my sweatshirt.
Here's what they would find:
Ibuprofen for my little man with his big cold that still spits out half of everything I put in his mouth.
Snot from the never ending temper tantrum Georgia threw at 10:30a because she wanted to lay in the garage (huh?).
Dog hair from my dachshund that sat on my lap while we tried to ignore said temper tantrum.
Sprinkles from Mother's Animal Cookies that I used to bribe Georgia down off the ledge so brother wouldn't wake up from his nap (I never declared to be perfect, did I?).
Flour, bread crumbs, and corn meal from making fried "chicken" for lunch. Loved that Georgia ate zucchini and had NO IDEA. Don't worry, we had grapes too and apple fries too.
Blood from when Houston smacked his head so hard on the kitchen table that he bit himself, and then proceeded to cry bloody drool all over me.
Just checked my watch, it's 1pm. I'm sure if I had several more hours before I died, forensics would find quite a menagerie of substances. I don't know if their little microscopes could pick up the dirty rain water from my leaking bathroom roof, or the cup of water Daddy left within reach for the kids to spill over themselves and the carpet - thank goodness it was just water! They'd probably be able to find the grease from the paper towel that Houston just now decided to pull out of the trash can. And now that Houston can open doors, I'm sure toilet water will be on my sweatshirt some time today as I pull him out of the camode.
Isn't life with little ones grand?
What would be on your sweatshirt today?