I woke up last night hearing banging around downstairs so I went to check. In my sleep fogged mind I thought it was the police at the door. “Why didn’t they call first?” My next thought was, “What the heck?”

I realized I’m slightly traumatized from living on the edge for so long with so many once troubled children but this is getting ridiculous. I trudged downstairs at 3 in the morning figuring I’d at least catch a kid sneaking food or trying to log on to a password protected computer but instead everyone was snoring in their rooms.

The banging involved the puppy who was gallivanting up and down the long hall, jumping on a door and slamming it. It’s been slammed so many times over the years that it opens immediately by itself giving the puppy a noisy toy. He saw me coming and ran to a Bubba’s room, jumping in bed between CW and Martin, looking up at me and barking his silly brains out. The two boys didn’t even budge.

I couldn’t sleep and turned on the TV to a commentator discussing what she called a despicable film that glorified violence. No Country for Old Men – one that I initially wanted to see because who doesn’t have a crush on Tommy Lee Jones?

However I neither watch R rated movies nor allow them in my house. I have 21 sons and four mean, violent daughters who’ll fight if you look at them crossways. Thankfully I also have 14 daughters who are calmer.
Sort of.

This commentator was talking about the glamorization of violence and thug behavior and I found myself nodding in agreement with her in the middle of the night.

I find myself constantly censoring TV shows and any video rentals. I’ve done this for years, even with older children. I truly don’t think any child needs to see gruesomeness and gore, and teens don’t need any more provocations to violent behavior as has recently been evidenced by a spate of school shootings.

Obviously my feelings here are overly simplistic. I’m simply always thinking, thinking and thinking about how to calm down my angry children.

Photo Credit Anya Rice