The Evil You Know

Well, there had to be a problem somewhere.  I can only send blog notifications to 10 e-mail addresses.  That is frickin frackin retarded.  Arrrgghh!  What is the point of subscribing to a blog if you can't get notifications?

Remember MySpace when you all used it?  Yes, I'm still bitter about that.  Yes, I am connected to more people on Facebook and yes, there are some things that are better but overall, all Facebook has done is get me addicted to Farmville.

I brought up the privacy/heart attack over Ant using my glass issue up in counseling.  The conversation went a lot better this time and Chris agreed to support a few Jenny laws regarding my scissors, my tools, and my favorite glasses.  A couple days later I found Ant in the kitchen and showed him my favorite.

"This is mine," I said.  "I use it, I'll wash it, but this one is mine.  I know that sounds retarded, but I'm willing to share all the others.  This one is mine."

"Daddy already told me I could only use the plastic cups," he said sadly.

Oh boy.  I explained that I hate finding caca glued to the bottom of my cherished glasses and decided to solve that by peeing on my territory.  I assured him he could use the others, but to take care of them.  He was so relieved.

"That would have meant I couldn't use the A&W mug or the lighthouse!  Those are my favorites!"  In fact, he wanted to know if he could have a glass that was totally his too.  Yes, of course!  Chris will be thrilled that I am creating a mini control freak, but I think a mixture is better than creating someone who is only carefree.  And isn't it also better to let him start having things that are only his own- things he will want to take care of?

The other night Chris's friends stopped by and they walked right in my front door like they lived here.  That immediately burned me but I did wrestle myself under control and tried to figure out how to handle it.  My first inclination was to say something snotty to Chris.  Then he could relay the message that I am a control freak and a bitch... Okay, that will not work.  After I got over being mad and could think straight, I realized that I should have lightly said something directly to them as they came in.  Something like, "Hey, you guys are always welcome here, but please wait to be let in."  Of course, the opportunity had already passed so I'll have to wait until next time.  I think they must have already spoken to Chris and figured it was okay since he was expecting them.  However, Chris does not always pass the message along and EVEN THEN- I still don't want you just waltzing into my house unless you live there.

I am supposed to be doing homework but I am still entertaining Ant and Bubba.  Last night they tried to sneak out front with "swords" instead of scooters.

"What are you doing?"

"We're going to go smack each other with sticks."

"Okay, well, stay out front."

Bubba got cracked in the ankle, but that was the only casualty.  They kept running back in to upgrade their weapons.  On their last trip out the door they had aluminum baseball bats.  BASEBALL BATS.  Tracy was listening to all this and said she does not understand boys.  I've been around them a lot and I still don't get it.

Now they are getting to the point where they are sleep deprived and cranky and starting to argue.  I'll let them make up, but then it will be time for Bubba to go home.