Last night I was responsible. I know. Weird, right? I have been feeling a little sub-par ever since the great July 4th party of 2010 and trying to catch up on sleep here and there and when I can. It hasn't been easy since we've had ball games to attend every night. But last night, we were home from ball by 8:15 so I decided to use that opportunity to take some allergy meds and call it a night.
The Prodigal Son has had a teammate staying here with us since Wednesday. I found out yesterday afternoon the poor thing hasn't eaten since he arrived that evening. I'm on strike - I waited on everyone hand and foot last weekend, so the poor thing arrived a week late to get any service out of me. I had to TELL the Prodigal Son to drive the poor boy to the closest grease bag so he could get something to eat. So he did. Then, about 9:30 last night, I find out that he's not only not fed this kid - he hasn't shown him where the towels or shower are. What.the.fuck. And that's exactly what I said to the son. WTF is wrong with you? His excuse for being a shitty fucking host - "He never asked" - oh FUCK THAT - you were raised better than that - the kid is being a polite guest and it's awkward for the guest to have to ASK for basic fucking amenities like, um, FOOD and BATHROOMS. Jesus. See. I knew my concerns yesterday morning about whether or not the son was ready to go out on his own - did he know everything he needs to know - were spot on. He's fucking clueless.
So back to bed I went. And then, at 12:30 a.m. I was awakened by a beeping sound and a spotlight. It was the husband. Sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone - texting. And not just any ol' texting - I'm talking texting on a non-smart phone each letter requires anywhere from 1-4 beeps texting on an old flip phone. Who the fuck are you texting???? Him: the kids - they are still awake. So I lay there a few more seconds while he fumbles with the texting and finally I hop out of bed - "Jesus Shit - you can walk your ass around the house and tell them to get to fucking bed in less time that it takes you to type the word 'you'". And with that, I stormed out of bed - stomped to the daughter's room - opened the door and informed her that her ass needed to be in bed (has a tournament Saturday) and then stomped down the stairs to find the prodigal son and his friends sitting in LAWN chairs in MY family room - playing Xbox - "get your asses to bed - it's 1 a.m. and you have to be up at 6 a.m." And then back up to bed I went. Fucking pissed. It's bad enough I have to do most of the household chores. Do ALL of the cooking. Make ALL of the menus, etc. But now I have to think for these people TOO?
But most of all I wanted to slap the shit out of the husband who is, evidently, just another child in this house. Be the adult. It's okay to be bossy with these kids - it really is. They expect it and sometimes the situation calls for it. They'll get over it.
So, on my day off - I have to get up at 6 a.m. and attempt to wake the prodigal son so he can be to his bus on time to leave for his ball tournament. Hey! It only took THREE attempts this morning! YAY! And I withheld from the urge to wake him up by banging pots and pans together. I didn't want his friend to think I was even more nutty than he likely already does - not feeding him or showing him where the shower is for 3 days. Now - I have 3 hours before I have to rouse the sleeping princasses for their ball tournament. Ain't nothing better than a 15 year old girl who is tired and cranky! LET THE FUN BEGIN!!! Happy Saturday everyone!
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