If it's 4 AM and you don't know where your kids are...they're probably at my house...singing loudly.

Now that I've officially entered my middle forties, my requirements in life are quite simple.  I accept that I must work full time.  So, when I get home, I desire only three things:  My couch, my TV time, and a house quiet enough to sleep in at or around 11:30 PM.

Since the children are home for Christmas Break...that's just not happening for me.


Came home after a really long day, and the kitchen was a disaster, the dining room was a disaster, and the living room was a disaster. Peaches had a couple friends over to bake cookie. When I got home, I was informed that Hubby had given the OK for them all to stay over night. Normally not an issue, but I really needed some couch time.  Not in the cards for me, I didn't get to be in the living room, and I couldn't even look at the kitchen. (You know the scene from "Daddy Day Care" where the kid misses the toilet? Yeah, that was my face when I walked into the house.)

Sure, my bathroom was a mess...but did you seen what those teens
did to that poor woman's kitchen?

So no couch time, no TV time.  We have a TV in our unfinished family room in the basement, but I couldn't go down there because Skippy was down there with his girl friend...and since he was packing to leave town for a few days, they needed some quiet time...alone  ish.  (Never completely alone.  I refuse to be called "Grandma" for at least another six years.) 

Hubby, who had been home all day NOT doing the projects he said he was going to do was like a kid who'd been cooped up all day. "Let's go to HOME DEPOT!" (I hate Home Depot).


But with no other avenue of peace and quiet, Hubby and I go to Home Depot and then hit the a local eatery for dinner. By the time I get home it's 8 and I'm beat. I want a hot shower and bed.



I didn't get either. I'm about to hit the shower when Skippy announces that he's taking girlfriend home and then he's showering so I'd better be done by then. (Due to a lack of water pressure, we can't run two showers at a time.) And I'm not waiting for him to finish because the boy has been known to shower for an hour, thus eating up the hot water.



So I take two Tylenol PM and go to bed. Hubby walks into the bedroom and says, "Oh, you're in bed. Well I'll go to bed to."



Great. He gets in rolls over and instantly goes to sleep. And snores.



Meanwhile, the entire freshman class out in my living room is watching some musical movie and shrieking loudly. I go out to tell them to shut up and the movie is on, popcorn is popping all over the kitchen, but there are no children. Oh, they are changing into jammies. Right.



So I drag Peaches out of her room and point to the popcorn mess in the kitchen and inform her that Hubby and I have to be UP AND AT WORK by 7. And they need to SHUT UP.

Hey one more musical number and we'll quiet down, okay Mrs. B?

I go back to bed to attempt sleep. Team High School Musical is still howling in the living room so I start a battle of texts with my daughter to get them to SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

After attempting to fall asleep for almost three hours I finally take a third Tylenol PM and go into a coma.  It's now nearly midnight.



I get up at 5:30 and I find out that they all decided in order to be "quiet" they would move their operations to the basement. (They couldn't have done that at 9 when Peter took Morgan home?)   Of course, the kitchen was STILL a disaster...as was every other corner of the house.  I informed hubby that if Team Edward/Jacob was still at my house at 6 PM I would perform some sort of violent act on myself.

Flash forward to a week later.  I've nearly regained my normal schedule and I'm looking forward last night to a good night's sleep and a nice bonus holiday off today.

Peaches, who is normally very quiet on her own, and also a pretty early bird when it comes to going to bed, stayed up until 3 singing with her iPod. Have you ever heard someone singing with their iPod?  It's really just them singing...and they have no idea how loud they are. 

But she wasn't the only late night songbird.  In the basement Skippy was having his own American Bandstand night...except he had his iPod hooked up to speakers.  Since hubby's snoring had once again relegated me to the sofa,  I made the rounds....twice...from kid to kid informing them of the time and that they needed to SHUT UP!

It's an all night singing rave!  Hey, Mrs. B doesn't care if we SING...she supports
the arts.  She's a writer person.

Which worked fine, and I was finally dozing off...until 3:30 when Skippy shook me awake and said, "I have to go to Chicago...it's an emergency.  I left a note on the counter.  I'll be back as soon as I can."

Friends, something like this would normally result in a lot of questions from me.  But at 3:30 AM...I could only muster this piece of advice:  "Drive carefully.  We got snow over night."  (Chicago is about 90 minutes south of us.)

Woke this morning to Hubby asking me at 6:30, "Where is Skippy?"

I said, "There's a note on the counter.  He went to Chicago.  It was an emergency."

"Yes, but where did he go?"

"There's a note."

Hubby held up the note.  It read, "I went to Chicago, there was an emergency."

The boy is succinct, I'll give him that.

But Hubby is a genius.  He pulled out the lap top and traced Skippy's moves through the Illinois toll way because Skippy has an Ipass.  "Well, this makes no sense,"  Hubby mutters.

"What?"

"He went through Waukegen at 4:30.  He got to O'Hare at about 5.  He went through Waukegan again a little after 6."

"He wasn't even in Chicago an hour.  And why was he at the airport?"

So much for sleeping in late today.

Sure enough, Skippy walks through the door at 7:15, two girls with him.  One I knew.  One I didn't. 

Skippy rode in on his mighty Dodge and rescued two girls from...well we're not sure yet
but it must have been something fierce.  He did leave a note, after all.

Apparently...and I'm a little hazy on the details here...the girls, who are friends of his and live near the Indiana border  (We live in Wisconsin.)  were at a party in Chicago and things got out of hand.  They didn't want to ride the train alone late at night...and one of the friends had to catch a flight this morning out of O'Hare.  So...Skippy to the rescue...sort of.

So now I have two girls in my house who live almost in another time zone.  I'm not sure how they are getting home or when they are going.

I get more sleep at work!