It’s been a rough day here in the Venomous Household. Delightful as it was having VH home for five straight days, the house is now a pigsty.

Meanwhile, the Big-Eyed Boy came down with both poison ivy and Swimmer’s Ear over the weekend, both of which necessitated middle-of-the-night medications and comforting. Although he’s mostly recovered, I have not: at 40 years old (41 in 2 weeks, for those keeping track of such things), I don’t mess with “beauty sleep” anymore. I sleep to escape my aches and pains. Also, my kids.

So this morning when the BEB was up at the crack o’ dawn after a mere 6 hours of sleep, I knew it was going to be a long, miserable day. A day on which I’d be eyeballing the liquor cabinet even as I poured my first cup of coffee. A day on which I’d be lucky to squeeze in a quick shower, all the while knowing that a leisurely bath was out of the question. (Too much temptation to see just how long I could hold my breath before passing out.)

One would think by now that my kids had learned to tell the difference between when Mommy is smiling and when she’s just clenching her teeth. It seems an easy enough distinction to me: the latter is usually accompanied by a loud grinding sound, whereas the former is accompanied by a martini handed to me by my husband… who simultaneously announces that he is taking over parenting duties for the rest of the evening.

One would also think that my kids would realize that just because Mommy’s voice doesn’t sound like she’s about to have an aneurysm doesn’t mean she’s not about to. The clue is s not so much how I say something as what I say.

For instance, if I say: “What would you like for lunch?” it’s a sign I’m feeling a bit flexible. On the other hand: “Do you want chicken strips with fruit salad or leftover scraps of whatever the heck that green thing is underneath your bed?” means it’s probably time to clean underneath their beds. After lunch. Which is going to be chicken strips with fruit salad, so don’t even bother asking for egg salad, got it?

Likewise, our family tends to use lots of pet names for each other: “Sweetie”, “Honey”, “Angel”, “Little Guy” and “You, not not the cat, YOU“. But if Mom calls them by their actual names — not even the first and middle names together, mind you (because both of their middle names are mouthfuls and too much to expect any one frazzled mom to utter when completely and totally stressed out) — that’s a sign they’d better listen up. Now.

But do they get it? The oldest one does, possibly because after surviving sixteen long years (17 next month) she sees the light at the end of the tunnel. (The shadow she sees there is me waving my arms frantically, beckoning her on.) The little one, my Big-Eyed Boy? Clueless.

Witness, for instance, his question of just a few minutes ago after he’d dumped his Matchbox Cars into the machine along with a full bottle of Tide and started flinging the suds everywhere.

“Mommy, why are you counting to ten? Is it because you’re worried you’re so old you might forget how to do it if you don’t practice?”

It’s a good thing my son is so darned cute, I tell you. A very good thing.

The NY Times announced today that teenage boys aren’t necessarily the horny little devils we parents of teenage girls believe they are. According to a “fascinating new report” based on a confidential questionnaire given to 105 10th-grade boys, whose average age was 16, boys are actually motivated by love and a desire to form real relationships.

Which I might buy, if that statement wasn’t followed shortly by this one:

Most of the boys had dating experience, and about 40 percent were sexually active.

And therein lies the problem when you’ve got a 16-year-old girl: knowing which 1 out of every 2.5 boys asking her out hasn’t been laid yet because that’s most likely going to be the guy trying hardest to get into her pants.

Just when the list of recalled toys seems like it couldn’t get any longer, or any more worrisome, comes news that one popular item — Aqua Dots — is actually coated in a substance can make children vomit and render them comatose.

Scientists have found the popular toy’s coating contains a chemical that, once metabolized, converts into the toxic “date rape” drug GHB, or gamma-hydroxy butyrate, U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission spokesman Scott Wolfson told CNN.

“GHB is this drug that in low doses actually causes euphoria,” said Dr. Sanjay Gupta, CNN’s chief medical correspondent. “In higher doses, it can cause people to go into a coma. It can cause seizures. It can cause something known as hypotonia, where all your muscles just become very flaccid.

“And it can cause people to become amnestic, … which is why it became a date-rape drug,” Gupta said.

“So this is nasty stuff, and it appears that the chemical is actually converting into it in the body.”

Aqua Dots have been sold in the U.S. since April and had recently made Wal-Mart’s list of “Top 12 Toys”. They are sold in Australia as Bindeez Beads.

Parents are advised to throw the toys out immediately.

Just when I thought I’d made myself clear why kids shouldn’t be allowed to wear heelys in grocery stores, I bumped into a kid – literally – wearing them at the movie theater today. At the movies!

Now, just to clarify something I said earlier, I do see a time and a place for wearing such things. They’re fine at the park, they’re fine on the sidewalk, they’re fine in an empty parking lot or even a roller rink. Basically, I think they’re great — when accompanied by appropriate safety gear — in places where rollerskating would acceptable.

Hey, were I a bit younger, a bit more resilient, and a bit more insured, I’d probably own a pair myself.

But at the movies?!