Today Big Child and Hotter got into a verbal confrontation, which...neither of them covered themselves in glory but Big Child's excuse is that he is a developmentally-delayed thirteen-year-old. Hotter...I don't know. He doesn't really have an excuse. He has brain damage, yes, but the thing is, if that's going to cause him to lose his shit in the face of bratty teenage antics he's not going to be able to stay here for the next ten or so years. Because teenagers are brats sometimes, and they need the adults around them to be better. My kids may not always be in the right, but if there is one thing my own effed-up childhood taught me, it's that kids need their parents to prioritize THEM, not their own love lives. What that will look like over the next little bit and for the immediate future, I'm not exactly sure, but I'm not going to fuck this up.
Also it was warm today and after I settled everyone down in the house and mopped up the water from the gallon jug that got thrown angrily to the floor (don't ask), I went outside and watched the entryway of Charlie Hive for a while, because bees calm me down when I'm upset. Their orderly little existence is reassuring. There was no activity, though, so I took the outer cover and internal cover off, and discovered that the bees had all died.
I am not very happy today.