After a long, weary, 17 hour trip we finally arrived in sunny California from Ireland. The kids were amazingly good, considering the agony of 11 hours on a plane with too few bathrooms and too many drinks. We survived the drive home from Frisco, forgetting how bad traffic at 3 pm can be. When we walked in the door, we were greeted with the smell of tacos cooking, courtesy of my daughter's future mother in law. It was a nice homecoming, and I was glad to get home.
Then, I went to my room. Remind me never to leave a $500 silk comforter on a bed when an 18 year old is living in the house alone. Have you ever seen silk stained by shaving cream, washed in a washing machine and ironed with an iron that was too hot? That was the view I was greeted with when I finally retreated to the bedroom. My daughter had been using our home like a frat house, and the surprises were just beginning.
As we began to actually clean the rooms (rather than the typical brush through most college aged kids are renown for doing) we discovered half eaten sandwiches, half filled cola cans and bugs I didn't know that could eat those things. Then we discovered the Piece de resistance....new and used condoms under the bed.
Now, I'm not an idiot. I knew my daughter might be having parties while I was away, but I thought she'd cover her tracks a little better than that! And either the girls were pulling trains, or the guy was a virgin who was trying every condom brand known to man. I am deceiving myself into believing the latter.
Now, if I had just found them in one room, I would think I needed to have a chat with my daughter. But after sucking one too many 'johnnies' (as the Brits call it) in the vacuum, I realized my house had been turned into a half way house for recovering nymphomaniacs. The only comic relief I found in the entire episode was the sheer volume of used, yet empty of human bodily fluid, condoms I did find. The mental images of a bumbling teen boy trying desperately to don a condom before the moment was lost eternally was too delicious to ignore. Imagine an 18 year old boy, having his first big chance in a house with no other REAL adult supervision, and the anticipation of finally 'getting the girl', only to discover he would have been better served to practice his dressing skills on a banana first! Throw a beer into the mix and I began to realize the opportunity that was lost to ME! I should have had video cameras installed in every bedroom, monitoring these activities. Imagine the hits on YouTube I would have gotten!
The moral of the story: If your 18 year old promises ANYTHING in order to stay at home alone, for any amount of time, install video cameras. At the very least, it will force your 18 year old to face her demons. At best, it could be sold on a very X rated version of "America's Home Video's."