WTF do our neighbors think of us

I would not call my family quiet. On the regular, noise oozes from our house, but we have two kids and a big ass dog so it's understandable-to a point. Well, said point was left so far in the dust two days ago that I am almost too ashamed to tell the story. However, since I am damn near close to shameless I shall share.

It's summer so I am on an extended vacation, perk of my job. In addition, so is daycare which means the kids and I have kicked it everyday. There's been some priceless memories created that are both warming to the heart and pull your eyelashes out frustrating. The source of much of my gray hairs has been my "Beaver", or the 4 year old I birthed, Magnus. He is an insightful and charming boy, but he is also head-strong and looking to claim dominance of our lair when daddy lion goes off to work. Even though we fight till the death, so far Magnus has yet to wave the white flag, which is unfortunate for him since I am ready for the challenge. I've dealt with children far scarier then the toe-headed preschooler mean mugging me twelve times a day.

However the problem is that, like most parents, I want to do the whole parenting thing with some amount of dignity and decorum. This request is not too much to ask for, right? Wrong, it is too damn much to ask for because, being a parent is a hot mess. It's a spontaneous experiment in the middle of living your trial run at life on this earth, and shit is bound to hit rock bottom. How you bounce back from said bottom is a topic for the "O" Network so I shall shut up and tell the story.

A few days ago, Magnus and I were in this summer's epic battle to date. The Davis household was tense and territory was ruthlessly at stake. We had dueled over everything from the dog walking by him to covering his testacles with some undies. Nothing was off limits. Such behaviors were most likely triggered by his peace out to the much needed nap, but also behaviors, that as a parent, grate the hell out of your nerves. By the time 6 pm arrived I was truly "at my wits end," and I hate that damn saying, but on the bright side we were full, relaxed, and getting his little ass ready for bed.

Strolling up the stairs I asked him to pick up his trucks to be put away in his room, to which he matter of factly replied, "I don't want to walk with my hands full." That was it, shit was on and poppin'. His statement was the straw that broke this camel's back. I think the response I yelled while grabbing a garbage bag may have included a reference to Prince William and a few "thinks his little ass is too good." I charged the stairs and began to shove every toy within a 2 foot radius of the staircase into the garbage bag to throw in the trash. Toys we had bought with our hard earned dollars, but willing to make into sacrificial lambs.

As soon as the first toy was nestled in its final resting place naked Magnus began to bellow like a maniac for me to not take the toys to the garbage. Yes this annoyed me, but not nearly as much as it broke my heart. His world was ending and I did indeed take a bag of his toys to the trash. His reaction to the garage door opening and my exit from the house put the theatrics in this year's "Black Swan" to shame. Magnus' buck naked, hollering ass instantaneously sidled me and when we emerged from the garage two neighbors out to witness the show. He,of course, was completely oblivious to the audience and went for his Oscar. I, embarrassed as hell, swiftly threw the bag in the bin and tried to gently but firmly pull the streaker out of view. Not surprisingly, that little s.o.b. fought hard, and finally I had to grab both his arms, fight to look him in the eyes, and calmly explain that be looked like a raving lunatic. Naked and deranged , a gruesome duo.

Although not entirely willingly I was able to get him back indoors but the devastation continued on for hours. And I, still utterly mortified, am unable to fully look in the face either of our new neighbors. Ahh, good times.