I Need to Get Drunk or Have the Men Folk Committed for 48 Hours

This has seriously been a week from hell y’all.  I am surprised that I actually made it till Friday before downing a Four Loko (peach flavored thank you very much).  J. got himself kicked off the bus for three days for saying something totally, completely, and insanely inappropriate to a sweet young lady who lives at our complex.  Being a woman first and a mom second, if he had said that to ME – I would have punched him in the face so hard he wouldn’t have woken up for a week.  Yeah.  It was THAT bad.

So Dad’s been having to take him to school in the morning and pick him up afterwards and bring him home.  Well today he got to ride the bus home from school.  He steps on the bus this afternoon and has the AUDACITY to say “Hey Name Here” to the poor girl.  The bus driver turns around and tells him to not say a WORD to this young lady.  So he doesn’t for the seven minute ride home – till he gets OFF the bus, and then the stupid little wanker goes and follows her across the yard in full view of the bus driver asking her who ratted him out to the Gestapo.  So guess what?  He gets another bus referral for the entire week next week.  Dad’s hotter than a wet hornet in the middle of July.  That means he has to drag his arse out of bed early and then take time off from work to go and get him after school.  We are trying to see if he can just do ISS instead.  I mean, seriously?  WTF was the boy THINKING? 

Speaking of Dad – ever since he had his stents put in a few weeks back, he’s been moping around bitching and moaning about this hurting and that hurting, got a cold or walking pneumonia as well, and has been off his citalopram meds and just a miserable living prick to deal with.  He’s been so miserable made ME feel like just disappearing off the face of the earth till he got his shit together again.  Has he called to make a doctor appointment though?  HELL NO.  That would be the rational thing to do.  He’s been worried about the ever-growing avalanche of bills that need to be paid because he keeps putting things off till his next pay period instead of listening to me and paying them when I tell him to and doing all sorts of other mundane things like buying toilet paper and toothpaste and soap and whether the dog has eaten twenty times today or not.  

The man worries about more stuff than the friggin Pope.  I’m seriously ready to just resort to cave girl tactics and take a big wooden club and knock him senseless and lock him in a cave somewhere for a few hours of peace.  He is becoming completely unglued and delusional and paranoid about um … EVERYTHING.  Sheesh. 

T. has been whining and complaining about, well … everything lately.  He’s a nine year old going on two.  Gets me every time with those big brown eyes and that cheeky grin of his.  His school portraits are just too damn cute – don’t you think?

I know it sounds horrible – but I actually hate it when my family comes home in the evening.  They get all GCB up in here and I need to resort to alcohol for some semblance of sanity.  Yesterday I had 11+ pre-teens/teenagers in my house.  The noise was deafening.  I was about ready to cry.  I had NO control over the situation. 

Since payday has come and gone today and we are (once again) completely broke, that means the menfolk will be going nowhere and I’ll be forced to spend the better part of the afternoon at the complex swimming pool tomorrow and Sunday making sure the little wankers don’t drown themselves lovingly watching my children swim and getting a lobster burn lovely suntan.  Good thing I have plenty of reading material stocked up. 

Maybe I should stock up on some more Four Loko.