Thursday, March 29, 2012

I must have been a very bad person in my former life.

I have absolutely no problem with multiple families living in one house.  God bless them.  I know from experience that oftentimes this is a financial necessity.  Currently, within my own family, my two adult sisters share a house, some of the expenses, and help raise my young nieces while my mother resides in a separate residence on the same property.  I completely understand.

When I was twenty-eight years old, after my divorce, I was thousands of dollars in debt and came back to my parents with my tail between my legs.  I was mortified.  Not only did I come back home, but I had to stay in the same childhood bedroom with the sister I shared it with when I was a small.  Really?  Could my life get any crappier?  At the time, I didn't think so.

In a nutshell, I completely commiserate with adult children and their youngsters living with older parents.  In today's economy, it's almost a necessity; HOWEVER, (did you sense this coming?) I do take issue with how many children and grandchildren are living in a single family home.  (Uh oh, Breezy's on a rant!!)  Good morning dear friends and blog readers.  I haven't finished my coffee yet so I tend to be a wee bit pissy in the morning.  Shall I proceed?

As everyone who reads my rambles know, I have many issues.  Some, I deal with well.  Others, not so much.  One of my many grievances is loud noises.  Plates crashing, babies crying, autistic 13 year olds throwing temper tantrums, cartoons blaring, etc., so you can well imagine that I suffer from my own personal share of noise here at home.  Eric and I do our best to keep the house at a quiet, calm decibel level.  It doesn't always work, but it's something we constantly strive for.  This makes Breezy, moi, happy.  This keeps me non-grumpy.

Enter the single family dwelling which resides directly next door to us and has more than five adult families living with their aging parents.  Yes, that's right, our neighbors.  The other night at dinner, as I was mulling over my plate of steamed peas and grilled chicken, I mentally counted 15 screaming children in their back yard.  Now, let me write for the record, this is how many I could see from my kitchen table.  This may not have been all of the children living there.  Granted the kiddos were playing.  Yaaaay!  How lovely.  How equally nice for their parents to have such happy monsters.  This; however, did not make for a peaceful Breezy.  This did not make for a pleasant meal.

During Spring break, the screaming is non-stop.  In the summertime, it's equally as bad.  There is a small one over there who is rather klutzy.  She's always falling therefore her screaming is not happy screaming, it's ugly screaming.  Though really, screaming is screaming so no matter how one slices it - it's awful.  I often find myself blogging with my study doors closed and clenched teeth.  I take a lot of aspirin.

This is what I have to gripe about this morning.  I realize that this is a nasty ramble but one which I needed to express.  I wanted you, my dear friends and blog readers, to understand my occassional grumpiness...that when I attempt to find peace from my own screaming children, I'll walk outside to my lovely backyard, looking for my quiet zen, then - without warning, my neighbors release their gaggle of happy screamers upon me.  Oh, the irony.  I must have been a very bad person in my former life.