If Drama Were Vodka...

....my family would be tow'-down-throwin-up-in-the-glove-compartment-of-the-car WASTED!!!!





 We have over-the-counter-medication for headaches, backaches. Shoot, we even have medicine for those embarrassing hershey squirt moments. Yet, can anything be perscribed for a massive drama overdose? Man, these kids are makin' me wanna do a swan dive off the Brooklyn Bridge wearing a tiara, lead boots and a grass skirt. *Deep guttural sigh*.
Yes, it's just THAT bad.
Let me break it down.




My 19 y.o. daughter and her hubby are living with me. Here's why. Back in the summer, my child decided that she wanted to perfect her stabbing skills on their mattress. My spooked son-in-law called 5-0. As a result of this incident (and other things) the state removed my grandaughter from their care. Child Protective Services told them that in order to get her back that they would need to move closer to me. We figured that they could move in with me for a hot second while they look for their own lil' love shack.
Seems simple enough, right?


 

I respect the fact that my seed is grown. However, I was always raised to believe that when you cohabitatin' in someone else's humble abode that you should follow whatever their rules are. Yeah, well...not her. She feels like she should be the exception. One of the guidelines that I set was that if they got to fussin' & feudin', then they would need to take that OUTDOORS.The reason being is because their arguments can quickly escalate like they auditionin' for some new ratchet reality series. Chile' I ain't got time to be refereein' no fights!! I've got 3 other children to see about!




Monday night. Just got finished havin' some sexy time with my handsome hubby. Sittin' back up in the cut just chillin'...relaxin'. Next thing I hear is a cross between a moose mating call and somebody hollerin'. I jumped up and asked my oldest son what that noise was. Regretably, he told me that it was my daughter and her hubby havin' a fight. Again. Doors slammin'. Bumpin' and thumpin' of someone runnin' up and down the stairs. What in the name of Santa Claus is goin' on out there??!! Plus, my two youngest kids were asleep too!! Awwww...HECK NAWL!!!
This isn't the first time I've had to remind them not to do all that carryin'on in front of my other kids. Each one always blames the other. Well, I've just about had it. As per our agreement, if they continued to violate the guidelines, then I would be at liberty to give them their 2 week notice. Which I did.




My daughter than proceeds to try raise her voice at decibels that was WAY too high. Tryin' to tell me how it wasn't her fault. The hubby is to blame...she says. Chile' please. Tell it to Judge Joe Brown cuz I ain't tryin' to hear it! Based on my decision, my mom thinks that I'm Desdemona, the devil's daughter. At this point, I'm not sure I really care anymore. Over the years, her bad decisions and choices have had us to report her as a runaway. Call the cops on numerous occassions for her dangerous behavior. My mom just had to bail her out of jail back in the summer! When does it end?
Pardon my loose lips, but...I'm tired of residing at 111 Drama Drive right up the street from Tragedy Turnpike. I want peace in my life and that of my family. Is that so wrong?