Rough Night, Last Night

[Mom - Don't read this. One swear word and calling boys not very nice names.]

Those little twerps were at it again. I do the "bedtime" routine - it is almost 10:30 - I had just gotten done posting, here - I took The Kids out one last time, brushed my teeth, washed my face, grabbed my bottle of water, double-checked that the doors are all locked and the outside light is on [DH had to work late]... Put The Boy's hood on him, tucked him into his half-crate in the bedroom [his choice - he could sleep on the bed if he wants to], got my p.j.'s on, crawled into bed and turned the tv on. Nothing good on, but I just wanted to fall asleep, so it doesn't matter what I watch. Just so happened it was Miami Ink.

I can hear - with the windows shut - the sounds of boisterous young males outside. Their school mid-terms are out [for the locals, that is] and they have a week off. We've had lots and lots and lots of boys out and about all night. It just so happens we live on a main street - which was a big mistake on my part. Not because of the traffic noises, but because of the boys. Lots and lots and lots of them. Girls? Rarely. [They must not be allowed to go out after dark - but the boys are allowed to be out and about at all hours with no supervision. Just the way it is.]

All of the sudden, The Baby, who is on the bed with me - laying with her head on the pillow on Daddy's side of the bed [she has to move to the foot of the bed when he comes to bed, but when she has the opportunity, she is right there at the top of the bed, with her head on the pillows like that it the way it is supposed to be] - goes into full alert mode and starts growling. The very, very menacing "there is trouble" growl. I think things are fine - yes, I heard the boys outside, and yes, I know, that they are very, very dangerous and nothing but trouble but they are just being little tits and there is nothing that can be done about them. Relax Baby Girl. Relax. WHAT THE?!?! Someone is knocking on our bedroom window!!! You little shits!!!

Three knocks on the window. The Kids go ballistic. The Baby is barking her little head off, growling and practically crawling on top of her Brother to get to the windows. The Boy is trying to get his wits about him as he struggles out of his half-crate with his hood on and with The Baby on top of him. He is barking too. AND THEY KNOCK AGAIN - and then the sound of laughter and "whooping it up" as they tear off. I am ready to do great bodily harm to them, but can't get my shoes and bathrobe on fast enough to get outside. [I'm not going to open the blinds and look out because I'm not properly attired.] As I head for the front door I've got the phone in my hand and I am calling Security. I am on the phone reporting the tits - and outside - it is almost eleven o'clock - and telling Security what has just happened - and that now the perpetrators are long gone. "How many Madam?" "At least two." "Where are they Madam?" "I have no idea. They are gone." I go back inside to wait for Security. [What would I have done if I would have actually caught the boys? Hard to say. But I doubt it would be pretty. When your adrenaline is rushing like that you don't have time to be afraid or cautious. You just act. I picture myself grabbing both of them - I could clearly hear two distince voices, but cannot say with any certainty if there were only two boys or if there were more - by their scruffy little necks and slamming their heads together. Again, and again, and again. A headache would be the least of their worries.]

Our Security here, which I have blogged about in the past, does a pretty good job. I have no complaints about our Security force. They do what they can - but their hands are tied and they can't do all that they could do because too many people with kids tits on the compound have positions that far surpass the positions our Security men have as far as the corporate ladder goes. Mr. Security comes - they are here within only minutes - and I open the door for him. "Yes, Madam, where are the boys?" Good question. If I could have gotten to them in time, they'd be laying on my front stoop bloodied and hog-tied, but since I had to "get dressed" to get outside I have no idea where they've gone [oh, I have my suspicions - same tits we've had problems with since we moved into this house - three houses down - but they could run down the alley to get into their back yard in a matter of seconds].

I tell Mr. Security what has happened - that at least two little twerps [I'm pretty sure I used "twerps"] were KNOCKING on OUR BEDROOM WINDOWS and what are so many kids doing out and about so late at night, anyway?!? Mr. Security shrugs his shoulders and says, "It is the responsibility of the parents and we cannot do anything about them." He agrees with me. No reason - on a weeknight - just because the kids are out of school for the week - that little hellions should be out running around. Everyone else has to get up and go to work in the morning - I have to be at the vet at 7. And, now, I am WIDE awake. Mr. Security says that he is going to walk around the area to see if he can find them, and if he does, he will report them to their parents. Good call. Report them to parents who don't have a clue where their kids are anyway, and don't care. It is all they can do. [Do me a favor, bring those kids to me before you report them to their parents. Let me provide the discipline their parents refuse to... Never mind.]

Mr. Security Contol calls me a few minutes later to advise me that Mr. Security was unable to find the boys tits, but says that they will keep a watch out for them. Okay. Good. Thanks. In the meantime, I want to go to bed - and of course - can't, The Kids are on full security watch/alert mode and now barking and growling at the smallest noise - and DH isn't home and isn't going to be home for another couple of hours. I call his cell phone repeatedly - and get the recording [it's in Arabic] which means his phone is switched off - because he is in a plane flying back from Jeddah. Great. I'm never going to be able to wake up in time for The Boy's appointment at the vet.

Somehow, though, I managed to calm The Kids down, and get my heart-rate back to normal. I crawl back in bed - and keep looking at the clock. Midnight. 12:20. 12:41. Just as I was about to finally - finally - doze off - The Kids, who are also finally calm, go nuts again. I hear the door open. DH is home. It is just after one o'clock. But at least we are all safe, now, and DH can deal with any further tit incidents.

I did wake up at 6 this morning - today is going to be a "nap" day, I can just tell... Five hours of sleep. And The Boy and I went to the vet. His bandage has been removed. The foot, with its missing toe, looks good. Time for it to get some air and breathe. The Boy must wear his hood for another week or so, though. "No licking!" We were leaving the vet's office, and don't 'cha know, The Boy was already busy licking his foot in the back of the truck. Fortunately, it is only a six or eight block car-ride and I was able to get his hood on him as soon as we got into the house, to prevent him from licking. Sorry, Little Guy. The vet said you have to wear it for another week or so.