It's like I run a homeless shelter.
On any given day, at any given time, there are four teenagers in my house. They all call me mom. Three live with me. Two I gave birth to.
They're always hungry. I'm constantly shooing Number 4 away from food I've designated as mine (although why would a teenage boy choose to eat Ritz 100 Calorie Snack Packs over Midnight Taco Drivethru Doritos? Yeah, I don't know either). Donations to this cause are welcome.
They're always asking for money.
They smell funny.
Their toe nails are too long.
They require job counseling. Reminders that they can't live off the dole forever.
I'm sure they'd all love to sneak off and buy a 40 of malt liquor.
They sleep wherever they feel like it.
The sleep whenever they feel like it.
They often talk jibberish.
They do chores to earn their keep.
They always have holes in the bottom of their shoes.
But they all tell me they love me. I've never had a homeless person do that.