Posted by: bullyforme | April 29, 2013

Bro, you broke the house!

The boys broke my house.

mess

I had sort of a rough weekend, from realizing that after I was paid on Friday and paid all my bills, I’d be broke by Tuesday, to being sidelined all day Saturday with some stomach bug.

Let me start by admitting I’m having a challenging time getting organized financially.  I’ve been off the grid for so long.  For years I had no car payment, a very small phone bill, and no credit cards.  I had no internet.  If my dog got sick I just tried to fix it myself.  Then I got a new job and a nice raise.  I gradually increased my monthly expenditures and am now trying to cope with it, after being so long out of practice.

Since I took my new job one year and two months ago, I’ve managed to acquire a car payment, a large phone bill, two lines of credit, a veterinary care credit card, pet insurance, an internet bill, and a TV video service.  Wha’ happened?  Ugh.

I’ve been trying for a couple of months to get ahead of these bills so that they all aren’t due on the same day (they are), and I’ve been unsuccessful as of yet.   Sigh…at least I’m not $500 in the hole every payday like I was many years ago, making a little more than half what I am now.  Whew!

Perhaps Saturday was a result of seeing my checkbook balance as of Friday night.  I woke up that morning feeling AWFUL.  I was queasy, cold, tired.  I took the puppy to the groomer (oh, yes, there’s another $45 a month—note to self, buy some clippers!), came home and collapsed on the couch.  I managed to do a few errands throughout the day with only pit stops for puking, ended up back in bed by 7:30 PM and didn’t wake up until 10:00 AM.

My 15 year old nephew was staying with us this weekend.  Now, he and my 14 year old are literally TITANS of mess, chaos and disorder, and when they’re together it’s all I can do to keep my house together.  It’s not just the mess they generate, in which soda cans, Gatorade bottles, snack wrappers, dirty dishes, sweatshirts and shorts and sneakers and dirty socks, pillows on the floor, basketballs (seriously, do they need 5 different sizes of basketball?), video games and laptop cables are strewn across the canvas of my home.  There is also the fact that they can’t be in the same room together for more than an hour or two without some sort of scrum evolving.  This is nerve-wracking in itself, but that they will enter a no-holds-barred wrestling match within two feet of my 55 gallon fish tank is absolutely frightening.  The minute I see a slap-fest begin I either threaten them with an early end to the visit or send them packing outside.

While I was incapacitated this Saturday, the expected mess did accumulate.  Without me to stay on top of them, it seemed even more voluminous.  There were soda cans stacked on top of soda cans covering every flat surface (I was reminded of various frat party photos you can find on the internet, just substitute Barq’s and Fanta for Budweiser).  As far as I know, they never came to blows in the house, but they did manage to produce a 10 minute video of an outdoor wrestling match that for luck, not planning, didn’t involve anything more damaging than some visible ass crack.  (They even dubbed it with a catchy loop soundtrack). 

I woke Sunday morning feeling much better physically but as I walked downstairs (the boys still sleeping) and took in the sight of my poor, devastated living room, I felt my energy slowly drain.  I began chipping away at the kitchen sink, loaded with every dish in the house.  I had them help in the living room.  I noticed the tension mounting when my son was doing most of the work and sure enough I heard it:  *slap!* *slap!* *slap-slap-slap, thump!*  “Come at me, bro!”  “You die now!,” and other such exclamations.  I stomped into the room and pointed to the door.  “Do not EVEN get started in here with that.  Go outside before you break something!”

I went back to my dishes and they went out into the side yard which happens to be in direct view of the window over my sink.   I kept my eye on them, watching as my nephew, who is a foot taller than my son, rolled him helplessly across the ground.  My son would attempt to get up, landing a feisty kick or slap on my nephew’s calf, and my nephew would just roll him again.  My two dogs were inspired by this and doing the exact same thing two feet away.  I was very distracted between doing the dishes, watching the dogs and listening to the boys’ comical expletives when out of the corner of my eye I saw my nephew pushing my son toward the house.   I heard and felt my son hit the house.  Then, silence.  Then, my nephew:  “Bro, you broke the house.”  I was immobile for a moment before sprinting out to find a soccer ball-sized crush in the ancient (and irreplaceable) asbestos siding on my house. 

I won’t repeat myself here, but lend your imagination to the smoke, the spittle, the fumes of anger that emitted from my entire being.   Both boys were respectfully silent during my tirade.  To be fair, my son was rolling about on the ground clutching his shoulder and grunting so he may have missed the direct brunt of my ire.  The event quickly diffused the boys’ energies and we all shuffled back into the house, with me continuing to mutter under my breath and shoot dirty looks.

I broke my wallet, but the boys broke my house. booboo

About 10 minutes later, my nephew looked at me with mischief in his eyes.  “Would it be too soon to point out the irony that you told us to take it outside before we broke something INSIDE the house?” 

Sigh.  At least my stomach bug is gone.

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Responses

  1. You do realize “Bro you broke the house” will somehow make it to a toast at his wedding, right? Ughhh….kids break everything!

    • I’ll have to remember that! 🙂

  2. Boys drool and girls rule !! lol…….

  3. you do know that kam’s grandfather has skills in residing houses, right? hmmmmm………….maybe he could teach Kam a thing or two and in the process FIX YOUR HOUSE!!!


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