Through the years, I've gotten my share of scary calls. The calls from the school to say one of the boys had fallen and cracked his head. The call from the baseball coach to tell me to "get here now" when Hunter got his teeth knocked out with a baseball. Hunter and I have taken a few trips down the stairs when my feet went out from underneath me and poor Will has had more black eyes than I can even mention...all as a result of broken glasses when roughhousing got a little out of hand.
But nothing (and I mean NOTHING), prepares you for the call that says the boys have been in a car accident. Let me first say, they are both ok. No one was hurt...although they're both a little shaken up. But not a bump or a bruise on either.
I've thanked God at least a million times for keeping them safe. I've hugged them each the same million times. I've shed just as many tears. I know that I can't protect them forever, but I'd damn sure like to try. The realization that I can't came crashing down on me and it's terrifying. But with that being said, I've also realized that they're growing up and while I'd love to keep them under lock and key, life doesn't work that way.
There will be a few new rules as a result of this. They think I'm strict. I know I'm strict...because I think they hang the moon and it's my job to keep them safe. For as long as I can.
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