Testing, 1... 2... 3... Oh no!

Testing is right. It feels like everyone and everything is testing me. Have I not already had to exhibit more patience than could ever by expected by one human? Apparently, it's a sport. It would not seem so bad if I was a player, rather than, say, the ball/puck/thing getting smashed to smithereens.

So stop it! Time out! Game called on account of rain! Something, anything, to put an end to trials for a while.

I just want to get my daughter ready for prom and graduation. I want to do all the fun mom/daughter stuff we should be getting to do right now before she totally abandons me for her college dorm in only four short months. Her sister is also running off to dorm in four months, and possibly working away for the summer. The two of them have formed an unholy alliance - their single agreement? To leave me in a house overrun with stinky testosterone. Four, that's right I said four - males.

How is it that I never thought about the inevitability of being left to my own defenses with all these he-things? It is, at this time, more than I know how to deal with. Especially since a certain 14 year old he-thing is being considerably assy-acting lately. The girls got through school with nary a visit to the office for a disciplinary problem. His older brother will be a senior next year. No complaints about him, either. Good old #4 has made it his mission in life to make up for all of that and prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I am indeed a terrible mother raising her children with no morals.

He's been grounded with no friends, no phone, no tv, no computer, no games, no music (!), no anything - for two months. He's not allowed to wear his usual clothes to school because I decided he needs to look like a proper gentleman in trousers and a nice button down shirt. He's not allowed to have anything except a glass of water without permission. He's not even allowed to be in his own bedroom, except to sleep. He has to sit at the kitchen table doing homework or reading a book, period. The other day, at the end of my wits, I made him sit in the bathtub. Yes, you read it right, the bathtub.

You would think this would make him straighten up, no? Yesterday I got a call (again) from Mr. Principal. #4 has drawn something he should not have drawn at school. Since there is a problem with the boys in his grade right now drawing these 'things', he's now on the suspect list. Oh, and by the way, he's in trouble for having a drink on the bus, cutting his finger with the can. (how brilliant can he be, huh?) And, adding insult to injury, he lied to the bus driver about just how he cut his hand. He told her it was with scissors. She demanded he give her the scissors and he couldn't produce them. This is when he told the truth. Since each of these infractions warrant a separate Thursday (read:after school) detention they have rolled it all into one big fat Saturday from 8AM to 12PM detention. Lovely.

I explained to the principal that short of locking #4 in the root cellar, I'm at a loss. I am totally open to suggestions, as long as they don't include anything illegal. Dr Phil? Where are you?