I moved hundreds of miles from my home state to be with the love of my life. We have 3 boys and keep to ourselves for the most part. I take the two younger children to playgroups that the military holds. I went every week and never spoke to the other parents. I wasn’t rude. I just prefer to sit back and observe. After a few months, and I still hadn’t made any good friends, I decided to be more social. There was a new face at the playgroup this one week and she had twin boys. She (lets call her Kim) was full of energy and made me laugh. I worked up the nerve to introduce myself and gave her my phone number so we could get our kids together.
Fast forward a few weeks, and Kim sends me a text asking if we would like to have Christmas dinner with her and her family. We agreed because that tends to happen between military families. We arrived with a dish and some wine. The red flags started going up pretty quickly from that point. Kim and her husband (Greg) were actually spending the vast majority of the evening…fighting. Not exactly with each other, but through us. They told horrid, private stories about each other. It was like they were trying to compete on who was worse as a partner. I heard about Kim fooling around while out of the country and how Greg was digging a financial hole with credit cards. Their kids were running around in dirty diapers, trashing everything. It was so loud. The “dinner” was strange as we sat on the couch with paper plates and listened to the married couple laugh about how drunk they can get. When it was time for them to lay their twins down they duct taped a diaper to each boy and put them in their extremely overpacked room, shut the door, and let them scream for HOURS. They said it was how they did things. I couldn’t take it and tried to console the babies until they fell asleep. We left so fast. On our way out the door Kim said we have to repay her by having her over for New Years.
I didn’t contact her again. New Years was creeping up and I hadn’t any plans made. My husband was scheduled to work night shift anyhow. On the 29th or 30th Kim texted me asking if she should bring fireworks to the party. I consulted my husband and we agreed on a “what could possibly go wrong” attitude about it. Oh dear, I couldn’t have been more stupid.
I cooked a LOT of food, and informed them that dinner would be at 5:30. I figured it would be ready at 6:30 but told them an hour ahead because I just had a feeling they were they type to show up late. Dinner was ready at 6:30. They hadn’t showed up. I called and Kim said they were just getting out the door. My husband has to leave at 8:00 for work. They finally showed up just as we were giving up at 7:30. Food was cold. We all sat down and I informed them that my husband couldn’t stay through the whole night because he was going to work, so husband sits to plate his food and eat in a rush. Don’t worry, they were aware of this situation long before they showed up. I began to pass around the different dishes that I had prepared.
Ill try to keep the rest of this as short as possible. Greg kept the plate of meats next to him so that he could “polish it all off” for himself. There were 9 of us at the table and I hadn’t gotten anything passed to me at this point. The kids were throwing food and screaming, spilling things left and right. Husband leaves. I get nervous. After I clean up from dinner, alone, the twins are found destroying everything they could get their hands on all the while I am listening to Kim and Greg fight-to me, of course. “Oh yea, well Greeeeeeg this one time, blah blah blah, oh no you dint awe nah!” “Nonononono lemmie tell you bout Kim and how drunk she was when we met!”
I pulled out the warm brownies from the oven. Two different kinds. I offered them milk in which Greg declined. They each picked a different brownie. Their kids had painted my table with a good amount already. The two lovers sat across from each other and Kim wanted to try Greg’s brownie. He refused. She jumped across the table and grabbed his plate, knocking over her glass of milk onto my rug. Greg grabbed her plate and Kim got mad and somehow dropped brownie on the rug which she stepped on. Instead of helping to clean it, she steps on it. I got down and cleaned it up. They continued to fight and destroy my house. After brownies we sat in the living room for some more of their lovely stories and then decided to do fireworks. Well, actually I told them we can’t do certain ones because of the rules in the city. They took that as a challenge? They lit up my front lawn with fireworks, getting the trash all over my yard, neighbors yard, road…and never picked anything up. Forget the trash, its illegal. I told Greg to stop several times. Their kids were running around the fireworks and I did my best to keep them back while trying to get the immature couple to stop lighting them! This was the point that I had enough and went inside, got their coats and said they need to leave. Its like they didn’t hear me. They sat down telling me “Don’t be such a wuss. You won’t get in trouble for the fireworks!” I put their kids shoes and jackets on them. I packed their diaper bag making damn sure they were not forgetting anything at ALL. After they left, I cried with relief. All around, they were late, rude, broke a lot of things, ruined my rug, fought, let their kids break things and run wild, tracked mud throughout my house, coated my lawn with firework debris illegally… We haven’t had any desire to be social again.