Don't get me wrong. I love my family. But their litany of complaints has me on the edge of feeling that maybe a nervous breakdown might be my only means of relaxation.

Grandmother always said, "Why rush to marry and have kids? Because with little tads come petty bads...but with big toads come heavy loads."

I should have listened to her words of wisdom. As my four children have been arguing with each other ever since they learned to grunt.

Now that they're older, they have word duels with each other by saying: "Bro, I'm trying really hard to imagine you with a personality." Or, "Gawd! Sis, you look like crap. Is that the style now?"

When they attempt to drag me into their feuds, I remark: "Back off. You're standing in my aura where I'm trying to live happily ever after."

But they don't get the message. They just continue to complain.

I truly believe that when you have older children, it's best they live out of state. Then when they phone crying or yelling or begging for anything, just say, "ET.s (Eccentric Transplants) don't phone this home. Your home isn't planetary."

Suddenly, the ringing of the phone interrupts my thoughts. "Geze," I blurt out. "I'm not even over yesterday, and here they're dragging me into today."

Immediately, rage begins to hotly pulse through my veins transforming me into a hulking monster. I feel my blouse start to expand, popping all six buttons, one by one. Then my panty hose split, sending a runner to my toes.

"Gosh! Darn," I shout. "Now look what happened to my last pair of panty hose. Why didn't I just disconnect that blasted telephone?"

Yah, I thought, but knowing my family they would just hop in their cars and drive to my back door.

Picking up the phone, I bellowed, "Your mother isn't here. She's been abducted by ET.'s who want to make sure she can't reproduce."

After a slight pause, I heard, "Hello, is Karen Ann Green there?"

"Who is this?" I rudely replied.

"Madam," the man quickly responded, thinking that I might hang up on him. "I'm the Army recruiting officer in your area. I thought that since Ms. Karen is eighteen and a graduate, perhaps she would be interested in a career in the United States Army."

Hmmm. . . that sounds good to me, I thought. So I listened to the masculine voice talk about the benefits Karen could receive if she enlisted. During his speech wild thoughts kept leaping to mind.

Wouldn't it be nice if I could get all my fighting family into different branches of the armed services? Then all of our big country clashes would become backyard bashes.

"Sir," I said, breaking into his oration. "Would a twenty-two year-old daughter who's great at KP (Kung-fu Punching), be eligible?"

"Ye...ss," the officer hesitantly replied.

"Say, could you also use a strong eighteen-year-old who's first-rate at digging trenches with one rip on his Honda? What about a pedal-to-the-metal, hot rodding sister who can clear a wooded terrain with her little Toyota?"

Before the officer had a chance to respond, and picking up speed, I slipped him another. "What about a sixty-year-old mother-in-law who'd make an excellent drill sergeant?"

Great! I thought. I am almost home free. Just a couple of more agitators to go. "Sir, is it possible for sanity's sake that you could be persuaded to take a husband who you trained during the Korean War to sleep at the drop of his helmet, and a hyper-active fourteen-teen-year-old who knows Army expletives? Or a psychotic poodle whose aim is good?"

When I finished, I heard a familiar sound coming from the phone. It was the same sound I now give my feuding children -- dead air time.