At 1:00 am Teenaged boys make as much racket as twin babies

If this is what teenaged boys are like, I am not going to be getting any sleep for the next 17 years…

Last night, or do I mean very very early this morning? I was peacefully nursing Baby A, and thinking about the excess of bratwurst I had eaten that afternoon. I wasn’t sure if I was awake because of my rumbling insides, or because of the snuffling baby attached to my outsides, but either way, I was up. Which is why I heard every little noise that came from below the bedroom window, in my normally silent suburban neighborhood. At first there were voices, and then the rattle of the latch on a gate. My lovely next door neighbors have a fence, to contain their dogs (yeah, great watchdogs they have been proven to be…hm hm) and I have the same type of fence with the same type of gate. I know the neighbors have two teenaged boys, so I didn’t think it unusual to hear young men’s voice at 12:30 am.

But what was unusual was the yelling and then the crashing and thumping noises that followed the gate opening and closing. A bit peeved, I detached Mister Baby, who was a bit peeved by being unplugged, and went to the window. My my! What shenanigans were before my eyes! Three hoodlum types were attempting to open MY gate and making threatening noises to someone inside my fence inside MY own private bucolic Eden, aka, The Backyard!

Well, I wasted no time at all. I threw open the window and hollered, “Well, excuse me! Who are YOU?!”

Hoodlum Number One nearly jumped out of his athletic gear clad skin. It would have been very funny to see someone jump straight up in the air like that if I weren’t so angry at having my peace and my backyard disturbed. He landed on his feet and took off across the neighbors’ front yard. There were two other Hoodlums waiting for him by a tree and they ran to their getaway car. The foolish lads called out to each other, “Hey, Dobson, better get going!” “Okay, Jake!” as they trampled the nice neighbors’ newly sown grass. Since I am such the shy blossom, I yelled, “Watch it, Jake and Dobson! I’m calling the police on you!” as they zoomed away.

By now Mister Baby A was thoroughly awake and pretty annoyed at having his late night nursing marathon interrupted by Mama hollering out of the window. I picked him up and went down to the kitchen to call 911. Just as the dispatcher answered the line, I heard a knick knock on my back door. Hmmm, who could this be behind door number one? Ladies and gentlemen, it was a slightly intoxicated, extremely tall, sweaty teenager, also clad in athletic gear, but with only one sneaker.

Me (in a frosty voice that sounded eerily like the one my own mother uses when she is dealing with riff raff): Yes? And who might you be?

Slightly Intoxicated, Extremely tall, Sweaty Teenager (in a shaky voice with a Southern accent): Ma’am, I really hate to disturb you and all, but I’m kinda scared. My name is John Lawson, and I’m real sorry to wake you up and disturb you.

Me (still frosty, but thawing out a bit): I’m on the phone with the police.

SIETST (still Southern): Good, that’s good, Ma’am. Can I come in? I’m so sorry to disturb you.

I thought he sounded pretty shaky and he didn’t really look too criminal, and I was on the phone with the police the whole time. So I called up to the DH, who came downstairs to be my backup and let the guy in the kitchen. I got him a glass of water and told Five-O what had gone down.

The teenager kept on and on about how he was from South Carolina and was at house party and how his girl needed to get home, so he walked her home, saw her to the door and was promptly jumped by the three hoodlums (Dobson, Jake and their crony) who swatted him with a baseball bat. Why, I am not too sure, perhaps he looked at them cross-eyed. You need to be careful with hoodlums these days, I suppose.

Anyway, Baby B woke up, funny how babies can sense disturbance, and I went upstairs to get the boys back to bed. The DH stayed in the kitchen with the teenager, gave him water and waited for the PD. By the time they showed up Baby B had gone back to sleep, but Baby A insisted on coming downstairs, meeting the policemen and putting in his five cents.

There we all were, on the front steps at 1:00 am, the DH, the SIETST, two policemen and Baby A and I. The SIETST was telling his story, which involved a party, an empty house, the three hoodlums, another Southern couple and quantities of intoxicants. The DH, who can be as nosy as I am, was drinking it all in, and I was asked to tell my Eyewitness News version. Baby A kept up a running chatter; pointing out the lights and the trees and the moon to anyone who cared to notice and eventually we dispersed. The SIETST got a ride home, and our little family went back to bed.

At least that what I thought would happen. But nooooo. For the next two hours, Mister Baby A wanted to be up! He looked out one window, then the other, to make sure there were no other invaders. Then he played with his bears and his dolls. Then he wanted a snack, at least I though he did; he pointed to the kitchen and made the sign for “eat”. However, when I offered him yogurt, milk, banana, applesauce, peaches, cheese and juice, he became agitated and decided to nurse. So we went back upstairs, and did it all again until 2:45 or so.

Finally he conked out, and I was at a place where I couldn’t sleep either. Maybe it was the bratwurst, or maybe it was the fact that I was still pretty annoyed at having my garden invaded, or maybe it was just paranoia that the three hoodlums would return and try to “get back” at me for called the PD on them and finish their trampling antics. The upshot is, I was up until 4:00 am, but woke up at 6:30 as usual.

My oh my. If this is the type of thing teenagers do, I am not going to get good night’s sleep until they move out. A Stay Home Daddy Friend of mine (you know who you are!) got to hear one of my tales recently, involving a old gal pal of mine, her husband and a rabid dog, and commented, “I never have crazy stories like that to tell! Never!”

Well, SHDF; perhaps you should open the window at 1:00 am. Maybe you’ll see something interesting, and have a tale of your own. Unless, of course, you like to sleep at night, but as Baby A was clearly saying last night, who wants to sleep when there is sooo much going on?

George, I wish you had been there. You’re such a tough guy all three of those hoodlums would have levitated at once.