Yeah. My older son is entirely black and blue this morning. Apparently, he fought this kid - doesn't know his name, doesn't know where he lives, all he knows is "he had a beef with me last year and we settled it" - last summer for no clear reason other than that teenaged boys can be absolute idiots. (Especially in this neighborhood. Hoo-boy)
And apparently the kid wanted a rematch, so he & his cousin took a little jaunt down to our street yesterday afternoon to confront my son. And like dueling "gentlemen" of yore, they discussed their terms and chose their location (down the hill behind the houses so as not to disturb anyone. Can you believe it??!? Considerate morons.)
Aaaaand the three of them proceeded to fight. My son insists he won (I bet that's what the other two are saying as well.) His arms are swollen and bruised from blocking and he has a huge contusion on his back where one of them kicked him and he's covered with scratches and more bruises. He also insists that he'd be thought of as a GIRL if he hadn't fought.
Uh... wrong answer to the WRONG person there.
And now I'm also ready to kill him because I am hardly trying to raise him to be an uncivilized buffoon, ready to swing a fist any time anyone suggests it. I know he has a brain, I really wish he'd go back to USING it. Or at least... using it more than he currently does. Even I have to admit he didn't ALWAYS use it, as people who have known me for a while can tell you. This kid is infamous for some of his not-thinking escapades...
Wonder what joys will await me when I get home TONIGHT???
But I'm about to fix his wagon, oh yesssss... we're going to my mom's farm for Easter and he's going to pitch in on my aunt's farm while we're there. I do believe there's three chicken & duck houses that will need to be cleaned out and there is NOTHING like shoveling chickenshit for 8 hours to make you hate your life.
Anyway, we dropped of the application for the house yesterday and learned there'd been another one submitted but those folks were rejected. So I am now cautiously optimistic... keep your fingers crossed. We gotta get out of this place.
And the No-Home-Training Trio struck again... as we are returning home from turning in the application, the roommate pulls into the court ahead of us... and parks in my husband's MARKED, reserved space. Naturally, my husband made him move, especially as we were trying to park ourselves!! Apparently, Roommate felt that since he was only going to be there 15 minutes, he shouldn't have to walk the 10 feet from his space.
And then the other two got home at ten and got into another argument outside on the sidewalk. I restrained myself from turning the hose on them.
I thought pregnancy hormones were bad for my attitude... but these three are really doing a number on my sweet & cheerful demeanor.
Ok, not even **I** could say that with a straight face.