In Technical Terms

Missy & the Howler have been doing a good job of trying to drive me crazy this summer.

They take turns contradicting each and every thing the other says. They bicker. They argue. They whine. They cry. They have even resorted to the time-testing method of parental head exploding of arguing about whether or not they argued about any particular thing last summer.

Nothing slows them down--oh, no, these two have the staying power of Dick Clark. If all else fails, they'll choose sides against each other, enlisting Damien's help.

After whining and arguing all weekend, this is the week Missy & her brothers are spending with their dad--so the whining and arguing can continue.

God help me.

By Monday, we've progressed to going to Damien's house (yes, inside) and the Howler stepping on Damien's face. She "had to" step on his face because they were upstairs, and he decided that they weren't leaving, and used his face to block the stairs (no lie.) When he & Missy came to tattle to me, he didn't have a mark on him, nor did he look like he had been crying.

But I still had to tell the Howler, "It's not nice to step on someone's face."

Never mind that the Howler is not to be in Damien's house. Never mind that he's a little asshole (even at 6 years old) and has already spent the better part of the week pulling shitty stunts on the Howler. Never mind that 2/3 of this fiasco is not mine, and I am still not happy that I am the adult in the neighborhood. (Hey, CandySandyMandyBandy or whatever the hell your name is--start watching your own kid, or tell your parents to stay sober long enough to watch him while you're at work)

My last nerve is long gone shortly after this.

By 8pm, I am ready to explode. Literally.

At 8pm, the Howler stomps in the door, with Missy & Blondie ringing the doorbell after her.

My Sweetie, God love him, tries to sort it out--by yelling at the Howler, even though Missy is now standing in my open door, arguing with the Howler.

I believe the technical term for what happened immediately is called, "Apeshit"

I went Apeshit. First, I took the thing they were arguing about. I threw it away. Then I stomped outside, in the rain, caught a raindrop, and yelled, "hey Missy, I got your raindrop. nyah nyah. Hey Howler. I have your raindrop, and I'm giving it to Missy. nyah nyah."

As Kevin is reaching for the blow gun so he can shoot me in the butt with a tranquilizer dart, I tell him, "I've ABSOLUTELY had it with this bullshit from ALL OF THEM!"

It's not a pretty picture, but I can't believe that anyone else wouldn't have also gone Apeshit when they realized that the arguement that rolled in their front door was over a BENT PAPERCLIP.

They've been relatively whine-and-arguement free since (although, in their defense, I've thrown away all bent paperclips, scraps of paper, fragments of popsicle sticks, and loose threads.)