Fireworks.

After being dormant for nearly a month, I have made the decision to rejoin society.

Kind of.

I made one of my cherubs join me for my morning errands, and another join me for my afternoon ones.

Seeing that it is America's birthday, I wore my red white and blue shorts and a sleeveless shirt with a shark on it that said Ahhhh Merica.

I am classy like that.

My daughter was not only not impressed with my outfit, but mortified when she noticed a classmate in the store.

She went into one aisle while I looked for other stuff.

Divide and conquer.

Or also a game called, split, and try to lose your patriotic mother.

You pick.

But before that, I made the announcement, out loud, that we were not related, and that I clearly did not know her, which is why we were not going to be shopping together.

A few people overheard and smiled.

Being a mom is so awesome sometimes.

Anyways...

She took the cart on her leg of the journey, and I had my "arms" or "guns", because well, 'Merica!

Anyways...

I noticed a variety pack of fireworks and grabbed them.

Once she ran into me after a phone call to locate me; no less the same mother minutes before she had estranged herself from, she witnessed me with my outfit again and now in possession of ammunition aka 'the works.'

I hadn't changed much to her chagrin in the ten mintues since we had last seen each other; and when she saw the huge pack of fireworks under one arm?!

She immediately said, "oh heck no!"

I audibly said, clearly you are an AmeriCANT.

I don't know what kids wouldn't want to have their own fireworks display.

Oh wait yes I do, apparently mine.

That being said, I did wake up this morning with a pretty substantial gash that I was not aware of, and figured I would just clean it up, but apparently it was still an open wound so it began to bleed again.

I am also pretty sure it was from my daughter who ripped those fireworks out from under my arm, but at this point I am oblivious to pain.

Short story long, I am an epic clutz and my kids know this, so to avoide an ER visit my daughter pried the fireworks out from under my arm and left them in the frozen food section.

The only thing left bloodied was me from our struggle.

Kids are so much fun.

As we were about to check out, I saw the display again and grabbed another pack, I figured this time I could bury it under some hotdogs, buns and watermelon.

That girl should be a part of the ATF.

She once again John Cena'd me took them and brought back sparklers trying to pacify me.

Bruh.

How lame.

I was burning my fingers off with those stupid things since the age of 2.

Anways, apparently the only fireworks I'll be seeing this fourth of July will be the ones from my hormonal daughter.

God bless America!

Xoxo,

C.

Footnote: After visiting family that was setting off fireworks and I became a nervous Nellie running to our rental car and screaming like a little kid, I will say thank you to my kids, sometimes Mom does need to be put in check haha.