How I lost my mind

I woke up with an aching back. Took three Advil and went back to bed long enough for it to take effect.

Sometime after I’d started working, my teenagers’ friends woke up and went home. (Two brothers slept over last night.) And when one of my teenagers woke up, I became aware of the following facts:

1) The boys bathroom door was locked.

2) The hide-a-bed couch would no longer hide.

Now, add those facts (which seem to minor now that the house is quiet and I’m no longer working) to the constant, never-ending bickering and whining that my four children produce and I turned into a screaming shrew. One of my 15-year olds said, “Mom, what’s wrong with you?”

I said, “Do you really want to know?” He said yes, he did.

So, I said, “Okay. It’s like this. Right before a woman’s menstrual cycle begins, her body is flooded with hormones that make her very irritable. I’m at that stage right now and I’m already irritable to start with. I wake up irritable. Add that to a bathroom door that is locked and a broken couch and I am very crabby. So, it’s in your best interest to STOP TALKING TO ME.”

He, my expert arguer, didn’t argue. He just said, “Oh.”

It’s true, you know. I am super irritable at this particular time of the month. It’s like being possessed by the anti-Mel. The sight of popcorn kernels on the new carpet I just purchased and put under the now-defunct couch drove me into a wild screaming frenzy. And trash! Why do my children think it’s all right to discard food wrappers and drink containers on the floor? Who taught them this? Because it wasn’t me!

When I finished working at 5 p.m., I unlocked the door after a solid forty-five minutes of effort. And while I was rampaging around the house, searching in vain for a simple screwdriver (my children steal and destroy all my tools), my son–the cause of this trouble–found something to use in lieu of the screwdriver and the lock sprang open.

The couch, however, is a lost cause. They apparently spent the whole night last night with the weight of four teenage boys lounging on the opened bed which was not sitting firmly on solid ground. (They didn’t scoot the couch back far enough so the bed could unfold completely.) The couch is old and used and stained, but still, taking it to the dump will be a monumental hassle.

I cannot believe how many items the teenagers have destroyed over the years. Shane has broken three bed frames. They have decimated four mattresses. They broke several chairs. You should see what they do to wire hangers. I do not know how all this happens, but apparently when I’m not looking, they set off bombs in the furniture. That’s the only logical explanation.

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