1.) Number of lies I've heard come out of the mouth of O.E.O. (bow): countless. Ooh, he told a real whopper to Momma last night. He said that dh beat him with a belt. I just about shat. First of all, my husband has never laid a hand on those boys. Second of all, he didn't even own a belt when I met him, four years ago. O.E.O. (wow) contends that dh beat him with a belt, yet couldn't enumerate what for, or when it happened or anything. I swear that child is on hallucinatory drugs. Two summers ago, he was running around telling people that dh beat him (with his hand this time) while we were in Japan, and even had the flinching when dh tried to touch him down to a T, but I said, "WHEN?" and he said, "IN Japan!" and I said, "I was there the whole time. Your father didn't lay a hand on you!" He knew he was had, and that was the end of that. So NOW, he has selected a time prior to my arrival. Momma says it's due to anger issues. He better fix those issues, or he's going to have some mighty big anger in the form of DON'T FUCK WITH ME coming his way. I'm just saying, y'all.

2.) Number of acting lessons O.E.O. (ow) has taken: 0. The kid should win an Oscar, really.

3.) Number of times I have bit my tongue: 2,935, 345. I try and keep a lid on my temper, but when I see him trying to manipulate Momma, I FLIP OUT. That woman works really hard to make our time together peaceable and happy, and he's telling her that his cell phone is bad, because we're all getting a family plan today and thus, new cell phones. Can you call out on his phone? Yes. Does it work? Yes. The problem? It doesn't download enough games. They already downloaded a virus onto dh's mom's boyfriend's computer (say that three times fast) this week, despite our repeated warnings TO STOP. That privilege has been revoked. He's got his own mother. She can buy him a new phone.

4.) Number of times I have wanted to throw a fit: 5. O.E.O (bowing) told his mother that I throw fits "when I don't get what I want." I'm sorry. I didn't realize that getting ridiculously tired of asking you to say please and thank you and requesting you to act like a normal human being was throwing a fit. I don't think he knows what me throwing a FIT looks like.

5.) Number of times I have struggled with not wanting to single O.E.O. (nose scraping ground, bowing) out: 1,355,473. Look. I get it that the kid's a teenager. That has been well established. And I don't want him to feel like we're favoring C.D. It is extremely difficult to deal with a child who doesn't think he's a child because his mother has told him he's the man of the house as well as put him in charge of his younger brother. Last night, C.D. had a stomachache, and O.E.O (yes, I'm bowing.) told him that he couldn't come down for dinner. WTF? Momma marched right up there and got him. O.E.O. (bowwowow), in his sullen state, brought up the beating charges.

6.) Number of times I have evaded death: To date? Countless. Yesterday? 1. We all know about my infamous panic attacks. I hyperventilate, I have to pee. Yesterday, as we were getting off the plane, I'm panicking, wondering how the visit with Momma is going to go. I thought I was going to wet my pants. And when I feel that way, I get claustrophobic. I waited patiently for everybody to get off the puddle jumper, and then ran back to the bathroom. After I finish, I hear them starting to clean up the plane so think that I better skedaddle and get the heck off of there. I undo the latch push the door, and...NOTHING! I was stuck. I jammed my fingers in the little part that was open and tried to force the door open. Nothing. Heart racing, I pull and pull and tug and tug, all to no avail. My eyes dart wildly around my quickly shrinking jail cell, and I search for the HELP wanted. DING! "Is that loud enough? Is there even someone on the plane?" my mind races. DING! DING! DING! With all my strength, I pull the door and yell out the crevice, "HELP! I'M STUCK! LET ME OUT! IS ANYBODY THERE?" while banging on the door frantically. To my relief, I see the stewardess out there. "PUSH!" she suggests, opening the door in a flash. OH.