Just Another Night At Our House

Just before Sarah and I go to bed, I have to take Winston, the little gay dog, out into the back yard. Unlike Goddess who knows how to take care of business by herself, Winston is a Diva of the highest order! I have to pick his tiny ass up and tote it down the back deck stairs and set him in the back yard. He likes an audience.I keep meaning to call my friend at Club One Jefferson so he can audition. "Hurry up!" I tell him while questioning his family lineage. Of course the little Son-of-bitch (and I mean this literally) takes his time, studies his nails, chases bar flies and finally wanders off into the darkness. Normally I sit on the third step from bottom sipping the last of my wine. This is what I was doing last night. "Psst! Mike is that you?" It was Laurel, girl number two, who had gone to bed an hour-and-a-half earlier. "What," I wearily asked. Her bedroom window is to my left and it is open to catch the cool ocean breeze. She pulls back the curtain which inexplicably has blankets hanging on it I see a fully lit bedroom filled with girls stuff meaning it's a mess. Wide awake, Laurel asks, "Can we talk?" Laurel is beautiful and impish. She has fun almost all of the time. She has somehow perfected balancing her 8 year old personality to equally reflect Venus the God of love and Aitilla the Hun. She can make you feel deeply loved while wrecking a room at the same time. The kids got talent. "What do you want?" I tenderly ask. "My sisters mean to me," she says. Laurel shares a room with Maddie who is the oldest. Once the two of them held July O'Neill captive in a bedroom refusing to let her go because they wanted to ... play. Judy was in tears, in desperate need of a drink and ready to go home when she finally broke free. Maddie had gone upstairs for the fifteenth time to say something to her Mom. Maddie is a Diva too. "What do you want me to do about it?" I ask Laurel. "I don't know," she says shrugging her shoulders. "She's crazy." I nod. "Where's Winston?" she asks. I shrug my shoulders. "Why is your sister mean?" I ask trying to remind myself of parenting skills. "Oh she's up telling Mom that I hit her in the knee but she really was jumping on her bed and fell off and then she blamed me so I'm probably going to get in trouble and ..." and the words all rush together because when Laurel talks and gets excited the words fly out as though shot from a high pitched machine gun. Our foreheads are almost touching with only the window screen separating us. Holding up my hand to stop her I lie, "I'll see what I can do." I'm not getting involved in this. I live with four girls, plus Goddess and Winston, the little gay dog. I am woefully outnumbered. "Thanks Mike," Laurel says. "I love you." "Shit," I say to myself. "I hate when she does that. Now I'm going to have get involved." The curtains close as she jumps back into her bed while Maddie re-enters the room. Immediately they start yelling at each other. Winston, the little gay dog, emerges from the darkness looking like he desperately needs a cigarette. Refusing to pick him up, he scampers upstairs like he's on Meth. "Goodnight girls," I say standing up. Immediately all is quiet in their room. As I walk upstairs Maddie whispers, "Why didn't you tell me Mike was out there?" "You didn't ask me," Laure whispers back. "That's not right," Maddie says. "Not my problem," Laurel confidently proclaims. The little gay son-of-a-bitch is scratching the newly installed screen on the door as I walk up the stairs ready for bed. It's just another night at our house.