Suddenly a father of 4, or, Did he really have to call 911?

A little background first, I am living with my ex-girlfriend (as a roommate after a recent breakup) We’ve been living together for over 3 years and just recently moved to Vegas before the breakup.

She gets homesick and invites her nieces and nephews (4 y.o. boy, 4 y.o. girl, 5 y.o. girl and 7 y.o. boy) out for vacation. Not for a few days, no. Not for a week, no. Not for 2 weeks, no. for 2 months!! OK, that’s not too bad I tell myself, I can do this. No problem. Besides, I tell myself, they love me! They call me Uncle B_Line!

I think that’s just to butter me up and make me let down my guard.

For the first couple of days they were very good and sweet. Then they began to claim boredom. Apparently boredom turns kids into spawns of satan. I’m sure that is documented somewhere. It started off as simple rowdiness. Arguments over the playstation escalated to shoving and screaming with LOTS of crying. I’m thinking of buying them each their own playstation. “We don’t have anything to play with” they cry, as I look to the corner of the living room that now houses a 3 foot high pile of toys and to the back patio with the huge rubbermaid bin full of toys (next to the 8 foot kid pool).

The youngest boy has conquered his boredom. Apparently he takes great pride in throwing those very same toys over the 6ft concrete block back wall into the neighbors yard. 4 times I’ve had to drive to the neighbors house, though its a mere feet away I have to drive clear out of our neighborhood and into his neighborhood to get to his front door, to retrieve a toy that is now being cried for. The last time, Tim (were on a first name basis now) gave me his phone number and informed me that 2 or 3 times a day he goes out and throws toys back over the wall. I hope his patience lasts.

Somehow they got gum. I don’t know HOW they got gum, but get gum they got! Evidently they chewed a bag or two of bubblegum just till it was soft then spit it on the back patio. Bubblegum literally covered the back patio in the full mid-day summer vegas heat. It melted to a nice even consistency and filled in all the pores in the concrete quite nicely. Did I mention we have 3 dogs? Well we do. Did you ever try to get gum out of 3 dogs hair? I wouldn’t take it up as a hobby if I were you. The littlest girl still picks little pieces of gum out of the concrete and chews it. She wont stop, I think old chewed melted gum must be more addicting then crack. I once caught her pulling strings of melted gum out of one of those large stone outdoor ashtrays and eating it. It must have been months old, it was black with ashes, but damn tasty I guess. Her nose never stops running either. She doesn’t mind though, she just licks it clean.

I don’t watch TV anymore. Well, I do but its only Nickelodeon and its on 24 hours a day. The days are over when I could come home from a hard day of posting to the SDMB …errr… I mean work, and plop down on the couch with a nice cold beer and watch simpsons reruns. No. Now my evenings are spent being a referee in some bizarre professional childrens wrestling/crying association. These kids own all the belts and titles.

The oldest boy decided it would be fun to take a horseshoe stake (from their game of horseshoes) and beat one of the posts that hold the patio roof up. I can only assume he was pretending to cut down a tree, but really I think he just wanted to watch the wood and paint chips fly. It now has a sizable chunk out of it.

Saturday I went to the store and when I came back I saw through the gate that the kids were chasing the smallest dog. Remember its over 100 degrees here. From the looks on the dogs face they must have been doing it for hours, she looked so tired. The little pup would run and get ahead about 20 feet them collapse and pant, only to have to run again when they caught up. I went to put a stop to it when suddenly I saw what happened when they DID catch her. They beat her! Hitting her on her hind quarters repeatedly until she could get free of their grasps and run yet again. They got into HUGE trouble for that. They are evil.

I came home from work last week and before my second foot could get in the door I was informed that the littlest girl had lice. Oh, dear god. The whole house had to be vacuumed. Beds, the couch, living room chair, everything. We sprayed everything that couldn’t be run through the hot washer and dryer. Washed load after load of everything fabric. If it were up to me we would have burned it all in the yard. The shampoo treatment was fun. “Here, put this stuff that smells like gasoline on your head and leave it for awhile” “what is it?” “its poison.” “oh, ok.” Thankfully now I think we are lice free. There have been no more reported sightings.

Yesterday morning I was asleep in my room. Roommate was asleep in her room. Kids were up watching cartoons. I thought. There began quite a ruckus and they were getting loud and noisy. I get up and go out in my robe to see what the problem is. The oldest boy then tells me that the youngest boy (the toy thrower) called 911. ARRRGHH! I go get the ex up and inform her of this, all the while getting dressed for the police. I sit there thinking “maybe he didn’t really call them” “maybe he was just dialing numbers randomly” Soon after a policeman knocks on my door. I go out to greet him and he says “do you have kids?” I explained the kid situation and say knowingly “did one call 911?” He looks me in the eye and says, “7 times.” the policeman tells me that the child told the dispatcher that his aunt wouldn’t or couldn’t get up. I asked him if he wanted to come in and check things out. He politely declined.

Guess how long the kids have been here.

One solitary week.

Only 7 more to go.





I’ll probably get yelled at for this, but here goes:

Find some fresh roadkill. Preferably a dog or cat. Something cute.

If you don’t have a gun, buy one. It doesn’t have to work or anything, just big and threatening looking.

Come home, take the kids to the backyard. Unveil your dead animal and show them the gun.

Tell them the same will happen to them if they don’t start doing exactly what you say when you say.

If that doesn’t work, load the gun . . .

This sorta reminded me of a Jimmy “JJ” Walker series (the name of which I do not recall).

“JJ” had (IIRC) done “something illegal,” and as part of his sentence he had to spend five years of (community service?) helping to take care of some hoodlum, renegade kids.

After the first day of total bedlam, he laments, “One down, four years, 364 days to go. . . . OY VEY!!!”

Get out. Leave everything that you think you own and go find peace and solice somewhere else.

They are not your problems. I can now see why the parent(s) let them go away for 2 months.


Oh. My. God.

I am SO glad I don’t have kids . . .

Dear lord. Words fail me. This sounds like every horrible dream of pseudo-step-parenting I’ve ever had. You didn’t ask for advice, but I’ll give it anyway. Run. Run away. Run away fast. There must be some cheap flophouse in Vegas you can stay in for seven weeks. Salvation Army, maybe. You won’t survive another seven weeks in that place. You can always come back after they’ve blown over, if you really want to continue to live with your ex-girlfriend (do you?). Maybe I’ll be able to post something more thoughtful later; for now I can only offer mortified sympathy. Really. I do mean that.

[making a mental note to sacrifice an extra small mammal on the altar tonight, in thanks for remaining childless]

Seriously, that’s what I’d do. Two months is way too long to be taking care of other people’s children. I say you’ve given their parents a nice break and now it’s your turn.

If she won’t send them back, you’re welcome to crash at my place for the next 7 weeks. I’ve only got one kid, and you’d only have to watch him 20, maybe 30 hours per week. :wink:

Holy Christ, what a scary story.

I’m printing out this page, just so I can hand it to people who ask me why I don’t want kids. This be a pretty good little summary … that and the fact that I obviously don’t have your patience; I would have killed them all and buried them out in the desert about 5 days ago.

What a shame you and the dogs can’t chase them around the back yard, beating them with sticks when they collapse from exhuastion.


I think you need to have a little chat with you roommate and tell her she needs to get some control over these little monsters! If she won’t lay down the law to them… you do it! After all, it’s your house too.

If it doesn’t get better after another week or two, send their little asses back to their parents where they belong!! Good luck. We feel your pain!

Send them to me. I’ve got a huge ocean and a large pier right by my house. I think they’d make great fish food, don’t you?

What a nightmare. I hope you survive. Good luck!

What were their parents thinking? 2 months is way too long for 4-year-olds to be away from home–even with an aunt. In my opinion, the other kids are too young to be away that long, too. I think you should call up their folks and say that you made a mistake and a two-month visit is too much of a strain on everyone.

Who has signed the lease / bought the dwelling?

If it’s you, you’re in luck. Change the locks when they’re gone, call the police and have them deported to the nearest state border. Make sure that the kindly policeman (the one who showed up after 7 911 calls) warns them that if they ever cross the state line again they will never see the light of day. A restraining order would be a nice thing to display on your front door.

If it’s not you, you’re in luck. Move. Shed copious tears and explain how you’ll miss them very much, but your doctor has forbidden you to live with any small children because of your contagious (insert horrifying disease name here.) Please with your ex-girlfriend to keep in touch with you. When she asks how to reach you, give her the address of the closest state penitentiary, and for the phone number, give her the number of the Church of Scientology in Las Vegas.

Either way, you’re in luck. :wink:

If the above advice fails, go to your nearest Target store and buy every Barney and Pokemon video they have. Sit the kids in front of the tv with them and they will be hypnotized for days, weeks, who knows how long…

If you are now their guardian, if you wanted to be or not, then part of your responsibility is to maintain their discipline. Set out some very clear guidelines, with clearly stated penalties for rules infractions. Animal torture and wanton acts destruction should not be tolerated and the kids should know that doing those kinds of things result in a none to pleasant penalty. I am not suggesting that you go out and get a switch, but the occasional spanking can be useful in getting a message across. BTW, what is your ex doing while you are stuck with the lil monsters?

Well, as terrifying as this all seems, at least you broke up with her before all this crap, because this surely would have pushed you over the edge and you would have another whole layer of crap to deal with.

Which makes we wonder… would she have dared attempted this little summer camp if you were still together?


I loved your story. I sympathize. I have four kids myself, spaced a little farther apart, but they were mine and I could rule them in my iron-fist-in-a-velvet-glove fashion. (Yeah right!)

I’m not wanting to diminish your trials but, as a veteran, I have to say that I would trade you, sight unseen, any number of teenagers for the same number of kids under ten. No, I would take 2 for 1 – for every teenager I get two tykes.

At some point, I’ve heard, children stop being a trial to their parents. I have no proof, but I’ve heard people say it.

Good luck with your continuing visitors. Actually, as you establish a routine it will get easier. Never dull, mind you, but easier.

Punish them. Don’t yell, just a few light smacks and lock them up in prospective small rooms for a few minutes. Take away their TV privileges. No Playstation, no Nickelodeon. They hit the dog, spank them. Simple. When they throw the toys over the wall, DON’T drive over to get them back (the neighbor’s being really good about it, tell him he can keep them). Let them know what is and isn’t acceptable or they’ll do whatever the hell they want.

Kids can smell fear.

This assumes that your roomie isn’t punishing/taking care of them. You don’t have ANY responsibility for them. They’re not your family, you didn’t invite them. Tell your roomie to punish them or send them back, or you will. It’s ridiculous to be thrust into a parental role on someone else’s whim.

Tell your ex unless she wants her relatives (both kids & parents) beaten within an inch of their lives the kids MUST be sent home. If the parents don’t want them, sell them to some poor unsuspecting white slave trader.

Dear Cygnus,

Sacrifice one for me.

Then if I ever post anything saying that I’ve acquired a replicate promise me that you’ll sacrifice me!


You poor bastard.

No words of wisdom, no advice, no wity joke.

just a simple “you porr bastard”

I like you B but tis much better you than me!