At about 7:30 or so, I was sitting here on the computer IMing with a friend, when all of a sudden, I hear glass shattering, right in front of my house. I knew my stepson was outside playing with a friend of his, so I jumped up to make sure they were okay.
I look out the front window, and I see my stepson’s friend (from here on out referred to as Idiot Boy) smashing a glass bottle, with a stick, ON MY FRONT LAWN.
I stepped out on the porch at told him REAL firmly to quit doing that, and to get away from it immediately, so that I could clean it up. Idiot Boy replied that HE would clean it up. I said, “You will NOT. I OWN this house and this property, and I do NOT want you to get hurt on MY property. So get away from it, NOW.”
He did, and I went back into the house, slipped on a pair of sandals, grabbed a bag, and walked out on to the lawn. As soon as I got close enough to the glass, I bent down to start picking it up…and immediately stepped on to a very large piece, which gashed the bottom of my foot. I was wearing sandals, remember? The sides were open. My foot was slashed where people who have arches (I’m completely flat-footed) would have an arch.
Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt, and no glass was stuck in my foot. The cut isn’t long, but it’s a little on the deep side. And it bled. Oh my goodness, it bled a LOT. I swear, the only time I’ve bled more is while giving birth.
So I limped back toward the front steps. Idiot Boy was still here (I’d chastised him, but hadn’t sent him home…yet). I looked at him and said “Look at this! Do you see this? THIS is why I told you that YOU wouldn’t be cleaning up that mess! GO HOME, NOW!”
It bled pretty copiously. I stuck my foot into the bathtub, under some cold water to try and slow it down, and my drain started looking like the shower scene from Psycho. That was a little disconcerting, but I’m not one to panic in a crisis. So then I grabbed the roll of toilet paper off the hanger, and used that for some direct pressure. By then, the cold water had done a good job of slowing things down, and the pressure took care of what was still oozing out a little bit. I sat back down at the computer, with a roll of toilet paper under my foot to continue the pressure for a little while, and proceeded to tell my friend (oh yeah…it was Euty, BTW) all about it.
Right now, it’s all cleaned & bandaged, and it doesn’t hurt. Nothing’s numb, nothing feels weird, and I feel physically okay.
But I am PISSED. OH my GODDESS, I’m hot.
If I weren’t here alone with my kids (husband is out gigging, and left about half an hour before this happened), I’d have marched (okay…hobbled) right down to Idiot Boy’s house and ratted on him big time. But I can’t do that. Yet. Tomorrow, though…
And I will be calm and rational. I will inform Idiot Boy’s parent(s) of his actions. I will tell them that I got hurt, and hurt pretty badly. I’ll even show it to them, if they like. And I’ll tell them that Idiot Boy is no longer welcome ANYWHERE on my property.
Even if I COULD take legal action here, I wouldn’t. I just want this kid’s parents to know what he’s done. Hopefully they’ll administer whatever they consider to be proper discipline.
And I’m going to have a talk with my stepson, too. He’s not completely blameless, here. While he wasn’t actively breaking the glass, he was standing there, letting Idiot Boy do it. I was pretty busy trying to take care of my injury, so I asked Timi to keep an eye on my other two kids while I did so. And he was really good about that.
Truth is, Timi really IS a good boy, and in all my years of knowing him, all the time he’s spent in my home, not ONCE have I ever had to administer ANY form of discipline to him. Never. He lived with us for almost six months, and I think I may have had to use a sort of stern tone with him one time. That’s IT. And it breaks my heart to think that I’m actually going to have to do something here.
I probably won’t do much more than talk to him, though. Too much time has passed at this point, and he really did do a fine job of helping with the other kids–but he’s always been great with them anyway.
Well, crap. I started this thread really pissed off, and now I’m just bummed out.
The only thing I really hope now is that Idiot Boy’s parents understand why I’m there. Not to threaten or be a raging bitch, just to tell them that their son did this thing. That’s it.
And on that terribly weak note, I think I’ll go to bed.