QUIT FIGHTING!

They are all grounded for 3 days.
this means I won’t have to hear, “Can I go on after you?” “Tyler won’t let me watch Lizzie McGuire!” “I tried to call, but your phone was busy.” “TURN DOWN YOUR STEREO!”

Yeah. It all sounds wonderful, but I know I’m going to be kicking myself in the ass by Wednesday morning.

Friday night was Marina’s slumber party. It was wild. It was AWESOME. I remember having a cool slumber party when I was 13. This was just like that…except there was no trip to the hospital.  Anyway, the house was THRASHED. It was beyond distroyed. My house isn’t big enough to be THAT dirty. Monday is a minimum day for the kids so they come home and clean up. Two do the kitchen, one does the living room. The little ones do the hall and the bathroom.

They called to see if they could walk up to the store because all the chores were done. That was at 2 pm. The lies. OHHH the lies.

I got FIVE phone calls from them on the way home from work (that’s 1.25 per call) and messages that consisted of, “GET HOME!”
Yeah. I was mad when I got home, THEN I saw the house.

To say my eyes were bulging would be an understatement.

It was DESTROYED BEYOND REPAIR!

They knew when I walked in behind a very green Shaun (he got food poisoning AGAIN) that I was about ready to pull out the big guns.
“WHOA!” that usually starts the rant I slip into before I actually leave my body because of lack of breathing the right amount of air in. “WHAT IN GOD’S NAME HAPPENED HERE?”

They are all FRANTICLY trying to clean up. I, of course, ask the normal, ‘have you lost your fucking minds?’ questions.
“How long have you been cleaning?” My hands are not just ON my hips, but digging so far into my sides that I can feel how much weight I have to lose before bathing suit season.
“Uh, since we got home.” a shy response comes from one of the wide eyed children.
“FOUR HOURS AGO?” there is a good chance I can feel my spine now.
The boy pipes in, “I told them, but they didn’t listen.”

The boy forgets he’s in charge. He can figure out how to hook up a NASA satelight, but can’t stand up to an 11 year old girl who thinks SHE’S in charge.

“Who was sposta clean the kitchen?”
“Marina and Kara.” He looks smug.
“Why isn’t it done then?” I am still looking at the boy. “You’re in charge, why didn’t you have them do it?” He knows i’m right. He didn’t make them do anything, he was probably happy they didn’t tie him up and paint his nails. He was busy playing on the internet. He probably looked up at 4 pm and realized he had 20 minutes to get it done.

Marina bursts into tears. “I didn’t do it because I was waiting for Kara to…”

This doesn’t work with me. They all use the other for an excuse not to do a damn thing.

“Guess what? You’re ALL grounded.” I head back to the bedroom where I hear Shaun hurling.

Ahhhhh, don’t you all wish you had my life?