Mortgaging My Soul, Once Again

So I just walked in the door from my grandparent's Christmas Shingding.

Or shall we call it Shenanigan.

Yes, I think that's more appropriate.

*screams loudly in my head*

I made a post a couple of weeks ago titled, "The Sound Of 10,000 Children Screaming." I thought that I knew what that truly meant.

However, I was strangely wrong. O' so wrong, Precious.

There are 6 young kids in the family. And, I bet you that not a one was pleased this evening save Jocelyn, but she's only a couple of months old and she sleeps all the damned time. I do like my quiet and I'm *totally* not used to having this amount of children running around, screaming and jumping on top of each other, crying, etc. *shudders*

I should have brought my Vicodin. I forgot it at home...bastards!

One of them is especially precious. He loves Spiderman. He *IS* Spiderman and everyone else is the Green Goblin. He came after me a couple of times, hitting me and kicking me. Note that I didn't say kicking *at* me, kicking me. Now while this would be amusing if the kid was two, he's 4 with hard shoes. It actually started to hurt. Of course, about this time, his parents were too busy screaming at each other because, and I could be wrong, stole some food from him. I mean, there's plenty of food there, but she stole his food from his plate. Let you ladies remember that you do *NOT* come between our family and food. You will be destroyed, no questions asked.

So, he was screaming at the top of his lungs, she was mortified and was trying to get the kids' coats on to leave to save some of her dignity, you have Spiderman running around, kicking people, telling them that they're "Butt Cracks" and "Pee Holes," punching them, spitting on them. Oh yes, and he was "Cigarette Man," where he shot cigarettes at you. And then he was "Fire Man" and sprayed fire on you. Apparently he wanted people to die of cigarette burns.

And, if that was only it, I would think to myself, "Ohhh, typical family function!!" But of course you mix in the constant screaming, crying, and what not...OHHH!!! I forgot the most Precious of all things.

Spiderman got his gift from his great-grandparents (my grandparents). It was this small mini-lunch box thingy that had Spiderman on it. It wasn't much, granted, but hey, he's four. You just don't spend that much on little kids. But, anyways, he was fucking LIVID! He started screaming that all he got was this stupid box, started hitting it, and then threw it across the room. Sweet fucking Jesus. Of course, mommy kicks in at this point and takes him into the kitchen where, I assume, she gives him a sound thrashing. I don't recall at this point, as I'm whimpering softly to myself and kicking my own ass for not bringing my Vicodin. I even got to a point where I turned to my mother, who is on anti-depresents, if she brought her emergency supply (as I know she actually has some on her). She cried softly and said that they are on her key rings and, unfortunately, she didn't drive.

Fuck.

So I made it through 4 hours of pure and utter insanity and physical brutality.

And not even the good kind. Feel SOORRRRRYYYY for me, pease!!!!