Responsible Sword Fighting

The practice of responsible sword fighting cannot be observed when persons who do not reside in my house partake in this activity in my home.  Sadly, I have seen the effects of outsider sword fighting in my home twice this past weekend.  Unspoken rules such as not near Mom and Dad's wedding portrait and never near open containers of liquid are not known by the outside world.

Saturday's instance wasn't too horrible.  The palms from Passion Sunday  that were over the wedding portrait were knocked on the ground and likely trampled [by the looks of them] by 3-5 girls ranging in age from 3 to 9.   That was an easily fixed mess, if we can even call it that.  Normal people would think nothing of it, but I'm a perfectionist who gets upset when temporary bedlam ensues in her home.

Sunday's incident is something I'm still dealing with.  I'm not sure what exactly happened since I've yet to get the full truth.  But, my home was invaded by two unexpected pairs of girls last night.  The first set was two of Madeline's class mates who dropped by in the evening while Bryan and I were trying to relax after a weekend that was simply too long.  This visit consisted of a small herd of third grade elephant stompers running up the stairs to the bedrooms that may or may not have been clean. (I really don't want to think about it.)  Then they thundered down the steps to check out Madeline's Webkin online.  That was followed by a stampede to the basement where one of the girls loudly expressed shock at the pile of dirty laundry at the bottom of the basement steps. I was beginning to think that I could use a little mortification to round out the weekend, and there it was!  Just as I was pleading with Bryan to please spare me and move the laundry to the laundry room, the doorbell rang.  I was not to be spared.  Unsure of whether I should offer it up or wallow in my misery, I decided to grumble under my coffee bean throw and continue reading my book.  Then the sword fighting began.  I have no idea if I was in the house or if the juice casualty happened while I was on the front porch talking to my neighbor from around the corner, but a cranberry juice (and possibly a Sprite or apple juice) was knocked over.  Madeline must have tried to clean up the mess knowing that I would freak.  For my patience, I was rewarded with a sticky floor and I have just discovered that her chair is covered in red juice splatter.  It's going to be a long day and knowing that we have another long weekend coming up in 4, yes 4 days makes me want to cry.  Dear Lord, please have mercy on me.  I'd like my house to stay clean  and my life to be boring for a little bit.

Last night a new sword fighting rule was instituted.  Sword fighting with people who don't live in this house is strictly prohibited.  Sorry outside world, I simply don't trust that you have the proper credentials or fear of me to wield a foam sword responsibly in my home.  Your apparent lack of sword fighting savvy has destroyed any tolerance I have previously had in you and has created a mess in my kitchen that I simply don't want to clean this morning.