does not compute

I have a new mantra, "I love my children. I really do. I will NOT stuff them in a box and stamp "Return To Sender" on the label". My biggest fear is that the package would wind up back on my doorstep as some sort of cruel joke.
Michael is getting ready to start his class next week. I am so thrilled to know that I will have so much time to read while I sit and wait for him. The sarcasm was intentional in case you were wondering. This too shall pass or so they tell me.
Michael had gone out with his friend Steve on Friday evening. We had finished supper and just when I was contemplating doing the dishes Sam started gathering them up and taking them to the kitchen. Under normal circumstances my children tend to vanish when it is time for this particular chore. Voluntarily doing it is just odd. I told him "Thank you" but still felt that prickling sense of something not being quite "right". In future I should always investigate that sensation, always. That is God’s way of telling me that there is in fact an alternate reality and that I am about to enter it.
I read for a while. My husband fell asleep early as he had worked that day. I fell asleep around midnight. At some point I heard the front door open and close and I allowed my body to relax because Michael was home. Just a short while later the bedroom door opened and Michael walked in carrying his open cell phone. That is his method of waking me without waking his daddy. I swear that cell phone light is so bright it could be used as a search light by law enforcement. "Mama?"
"Hmm?"
"Did the boys go ahead and go to Ashley’s so they could start working on the horse pen in the morning?"
"No. I decided it would be easier if Lauren drove them over in the morning. Why?"
"Well if they didn’t go stay the night, where are they?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean they aren’t HERE."
If that doesn’t wake you up nothing will. I got out of bed and went to their room. Michael said the room was really cold when he got home. He checked the windows to see if that was what had caused the temperature to drop in the room. The window beneath Sam’s loft bed was open but the curtain was closed. Michael closed the window and was going to fuss at the boys for leaving it open. That is when he discovered that the boys were not in their beds. The blankets were arranged to appear as if someone was curled up in bed asleep. When we pulled the covers back all we found was pillows and more blankets. My heart stopped.
"Where are they? They didn’t ask to stay the night with a friend. They aren’t at MeeMaw’s."
I grabbed a flashlight and we went outside to see if the little heathen were playing an unauthorized game of "Capture the Flag" or something with their friends. We saw no sign of them. My heart was beating so fast that it made me nauseous. Then it dawned on me that Ben and Sam almost always have MY cell phone because I never have it when I need it. I grabbed the house phone,passed it to Michael and told him to dial my cell number. Ben answered. I was so relieved I thought I might actually faint.
When I realized that Michael was becoming agitated because he wasn’t getting answers to his questions I took the phone. I had the same problem. I looked up and saw my husband standing in the dining room.  Now if a meteor fell through the roof I MIGHT wake my husband but I would probably just put a tarp on the roof and wait till morning to let him know there was a problem. He stood there, blinking as if his vision wasn’t quite clear and scowled at me. I just handed him the phone.
Whatever he heard did not improve his mood. "Boy you had better get home, NOW. The two of you had better be prepared to dance with the devil when you get here." I felt sick. What would possess them? It was 1:30am. This was worse than "not good". They had said they were at their friend’s house, about a block away. That was bad.
Twenty minutes went by and still no sign of them. I could have made the trip twice in that time, especially if I knew what was waiting for me. Panic was settling in and getting comfortable. Then the phone rang. I jumped for it. It was Ben. They weren’t where they said they were. They needed a ride home?!? By this time their daddy was wide awake and even I was avoiding him. He took the phone and his side of the conversation was brief and clipped. He got dressed and grabbed his keys.
Everyone in the house was awake now. Lauren had staggered into the living room wanting to know what in blazes was going. She does not do well when her sleep is disturbed. I told her we’d explain later and for her to just go back to bed. Michael was pacing. Most of the time he is the one on the receiving end of the $hit storm that was about to hit. He was familiar with the situation, intimately so. He liked this side of things even less.
When the door opened and my two youngest sons walked in I finally allowed myself a deep breath. My heart was still doing things that I am almost certain are not good for it but at least it was no longer attempting to claw its way out of my chest. We all sat down in the living room. My husband began questioning the boys. I couldn’t believe what I heard. I still don’t.
Apparently my two sons went to a party. It was bad enough that they snuck out of the house and went to this party. When I found out that the party was five miles away I felt sick all over again because my boys WALKEDto this party. We live on a very curvy dangerous country road. I know for a fact that pedestrians have been killed because there is no shoulder to walk on in most areas. You have to walk on the road. It is a recipe for disaster in broad daylight. When I thought of them walking that road at night my heart stopped. It got worse. They crossed the railroad tracks AND the highway to get to this party. That firmly cemented in my head the actual distance they had traveled.
My husband asked them the usual horrifying but realistic questions. "Was there alcohol at this party?" "Were drugs at this party?" "Were there girls at this party?" He received the same answer to every question, "No". We weren’t buying it. Nobody walks that far, in the dark, WITHOUT a flashlight just to "hang out with friends and listen to music".
I looked at these two boys and I felt rage settle over the nausea and anxiety. "Geniuses that you are, you do realize that you could have been killed walking on that road? You do realize that you could have been hit by a train? You do realize that there is a curfew and you could have been taken to the police station? I realize that you both want desperately to be like your big brothers. I know you want to join the ranks of the "brotherhood". Congratulations boys. You’re there. You wanted to play with the big kids. You are officially no longer juveniles. You’re in the "BIG HOUSE" now. I am so relieved that you are safe. I love you both more than I can ever fully express. I am also absolutely disgusted by your behavior and I don’t want to say something I will regret. I am going to bed."
Michael came into the bedroom and hugged me. He whispered that he was sorry for the things he had done. He said he didn’t like the way it made him feel when we didn’t know what had happened to the boys. "When I told you before that I was sorry I meant it but I didn’t really know what I put you through. I am so sorry mama." I hugged him and told him to go to bed.
Most of the time I will try to temper my husband’s punishment of the kids. He says that we balance each other. I want to protect them and he wants to "kill em all and let God sort em out". Hopefully we can reach some semblance of sanity between the two ends of the spectrum. In this particular instance I was not only in my husband’s camp, I set up the tent myself.
The boys are grounded from the telephone, PlayStation, computer and are not allowed to see their friends. The only stipulation that I put on this was that it not be an "open ended sentence". I don’t believe that is fair. They should know what their punishment is and when it will end. Their "friends"(the ones in this particular group)  are not allowed on this property, period. It is really strange that the one friend that we were most concerned about was supposedly not involved in this particular crime. His older cousin was though. A boy up the street was apparently the "host" of the party. "Trouble" emits a certain vibe, a very distinct aroma. These boys reek of it. I no longer care about their home situation or any of the other excuses about their behavior. Apparently my children do not need any outside help when it comes to finding trouble. The real shock was that it was Sam’s idea! I never pictured my baby as being a criminal mastermind. At this point in the game nothing should surprise me.
My sons will make new friends or like Lucy Ricardo they can join the ranks of the "Friends of the Friendless".  They are also on "stump detail". The property is riddled with stumps which makes it difficult to mow the grass. It is back breaking tedious work. When the stumps are gone the boys will be conditionally paroled, subject to my good will. They are smart enough to realize that they want to keep me happy.
My cousin’s baby did in fact have Whooping Cough. She was transferred to Children’s Hospital. When she got sick Ellie weighed about 10lbs. She is now just over 7. They inserted a feeding tube a few days ago. Hopefully she will be able to gain some lost ground. There was no graduation ceremony after all. When Alex heard that her baby sister had been sent to Children’s she just rushed back home. We just want the little munchkin back home and healthy.
My oldest son has put in for leave. He is planning on coming home in late July and staying for about two weeks. It will be so good to see him. I can’t wait. Maybe by then the boys will be boys again and not human stump removers. That is entirely up to them.
I would like to be able to say that I am over the shock of the last few weeks. That is not the case. I try not to say too much because I am afraid that I have lost the ability to communicate without screaming or fighting tears. I have given serious thought to taking up knife throwing as a hobby. At the very least it would give the boys reason to think twice before they pull another stunt.