It all started with the bugs.
My husband and I noticed an alarming increase in bugs in our home.
This is not to say we regularly have bugs giving tours of our home.
Or indeed, anywhere at all in our home.
Important for you to note should you decide to come over for dinner some night.
Rather like those little fruit flies you see now and again.
My husband, Brian, got so sick of these slow flying creatures, he bought flying bug spray.
This did not please me…for the flying bug spray has the exact same aroma as Raid.
Until you have gotten a snoutful of Raid, you don’t know what stink is.
Brian bombed the house…and indeed, the chair I happened to be sitting in, liberally.
I tersely informed him that I was not responsible for the bugs and life went on.
Winter is on it’s way.
I’ve noticed while my kids enjoy prancing around naked just about any time of year.
It becomes more difficult for them to do around November.
I like this; as I have only boys, and get rather tired of schlongs bouncing in my general vicinity.
I find it interesting that over all our years of raising kids.
Despite the fact that he often pulls his pants down.
Apparently to burn the image of his ass into his son’s retina’s.
My husband can’t seem to stand it any more.
I’m often engrossed in writing third book (page 124 and counting, not bad for two weeks, haha) .
So you can understand how startled I am when my husband suddenly screams for a kid to cover his dick.
Well, how startled I was.
I’m rather used to it now, we do have five sons, after all.
Our fourth son, in order of birth, Liam.
Complained that he was cold a few nights ago.
If there is anything I despise, and thus can sympathize with, it’s being cold.
I leaped to my feet to get a small but powerful heater to wheel into his room.
I lifted it out of closet in the dark play room.
Carried it into Liam’s room.
As you might remember.
Halloween ended just a few weeks ago.
You can then better imagine my shock and awe, when I saw a unspeakable melding of candy stuck to heater.
I looked more closely at the heater.
I saw a variety of foodstuffs on it.
My heart sank.
I called out to my husband “Brian….oh lord, Brian…we have a problem”
My heart sank, because I knew what would be found.
I didn’t expect my husband’s reaction, however.
When he found the uneaten food that had bonded itself by mysterious means to my sons playroom.
Then he bounded out of the room, nostrils flaring, eyes red.
I do not exaggerate when I say that children scattered when he exited the room.
Hell, I was scared.
Given that I once had my bipolar twin brother hold a loaded gun to my head.
I knew the safety was off.
I knew he might pull the trigger.
Well, I think it’s saying something that I was frightened.
I went in shortly after ascertaining that he wasn’t going to dismember his own offspring.
Then eat them.
He was still spitting and snarling a bit when I entered the now well lit room.
I stared astounded, as I looked at the roughly one foot diameter of….food.
I can’t say precisely what the food “ball” was made up of in it’s entirety.
I saw moldy ravioli here, a piece of candy there, and perhaps a few green beans scattered throughout.
I shook my head sadly, not as revolted as your average mother would be.
This is because, in my own sad history..and indeed, in a blog post.
I recount my reign of terror on neighbors and close friends of my family.
The reign of terror that was mostly comprised of me dropping ham sandwiches down heating vents.
As I surveyed the ball, which was remaining still.
Lest it provoke me.
I recalled my youth, and hung my head in shame.
I recalled my fourth son shivering in abject fear.
Fear that his father might do more than just make him literally cover his ass with warm clothing.
I knew I had to confess my tawdry past.
Before I went in and comforted my still-frightened son with my own misdeeds.
I had to remove this aberration from the wall.
I latched onto the mold covered ball.
Then I pulled.
When I said this food ball had mysteriously bonded with the wall, I wasn’t joking.
I gave a great pull (been working out after finally quitting my smoking habit, on day 35 cold turkey).
The ball came loose with a loud jerk.
It also took some of the wall with it when I dislodged it.
I watched incredulously, as peas dropped out of the vast mass, one by one, to rest on the closet floor.
I heard the labored breathing of my husband behind me.
Felt the terror of my son, hiding under the covers in his bed.
Looked again at the wall.
Bathed in the disbelief produced by a food ball that had managed to pull the paint and some drywall out.
Turned as I heard Brian hauling garbage can down the hall.
Dumped the large load in, shaking head again in disbelief.
Straightened shoulders, then went to comfort son.
After I comforted son, I comforted husband.
Both seemed ready to move on, and life resumed.
As of this writing.
The bugs are gone.
A jumbo economy sized jug of bleach dominates the play room.
But I’m still seeing bare asses march past me.