Tonight I was in a towering, redhead-class rage.
L goes back to school tomorrow, so tonight we were packing his bookbag and setting out his school uniform. Guess what? There were NO school shorts hanging in his closet. There were NO belts hanging on the rack. I was pissed! I've spent the last month finding his school clothes under the bed or stuffed in a corner of his closet buried under his toys, and I've washed them all. There should have been 4 pair of shorts with belts hanging neatly where I had placed them. Not one frigging pair! Grrrrr.
I thought, maybe... perhaps I had somehow imagined hanging them up, so I checked all his drawers. Nope. Nada. Then I went to the laundry basket in our room. The one full of clean clothes because no one in this house but me knows how to put away laundry. I sat on the bed, running my fingers through my hair, trying to get a grip on my temper. There before me was 3 day old clean laundry, neatly matched socks on top, carefully folded shirts and shorts lovingly split in two piles. Patiently waiting, as only laundry can, for someone to put them in their place.
I wanted to fling the entire basket across the room, but I pulled my hair instead. Hubby came into the room and slid onto the bed next to me, trying to look charming, and I wanted to bite his face off. I gritted my teeth for a moment and calmly said, "Hon, would you do me a favor and open the sock drawer?" I was thinking this would get him off the bed and out of the danger zone. Nah, he slid on his belly toward the dresser and opened the wrong drawer. As he was stretched out, half hanging off the bed, I saw several good places to whack him with my elbow. I didn't, however. I love my hubby-man, I don't want to hurt him, and I know what happens when I let my temper run the show. He opened the proper drawer next, and I started flinging socks into it. Hubby-Man got up, all affronted, like I was acting childish and stalked off to the living room.
When I was younger, I would have burst out with, "Oh! Thank you so FUCKING much for helping me find those shorts! No no, that's fine! Why don't you call all your friends and tell them how I'm such a fucking bitch for throwing socks instead of breaking something?" And such like that. I gave up the classic redhead temper when L was born. You can't lovingly raise a child and have a temper. It just doesn't work.
I went through the whole pile of laundry (once I had taken care of the pesky socks) and found not a single pair of shorts. I then went into my son's room and masterfully did NOT destroy his closet. I did find one, singular, pair of school shorts. They had gotten pulled off the hangar and buried under some board games. I also found 5 belts, underwear, a pair of shorts he doesn't like anymore and a (very) dirty gym shirt.

I don't have the foggiest idea where any of this stuff came from. 6 weeks ago we thoroughly cleaned his room. Everything was pulled out of the closet so I could vaccuum it. Everything was then neatly put back in the closet. Grrr! !!! How the hell does a gym shirt from last spring wind up stuffed in a toybox in the closet?
No wonder he never plays with those toys, the smell... ok, I'm not even going there. Anyone with a 12 year old boy understands, and the rest don't need me to share.
Anyway, tonight I almost let myself lose my temper. I'm glad I didn't because it would have scared the ones I love. I really would have appreciated some support in the search, though. Thanks for nothing, guys.