Guilt, guilt and more guilt

What a horrible morning I've had.
What a not-so-great summer I've had, so far.
I guess it begins with the kids I'm looking after. The dynamics of the group are such that there is an awful lot of fighting and arguing.
And it's wearing on me, day by day.
I don't know how much more I can take; something's gotta give, and soon.
I have five boys I look after, including my own. Who knew boys were such handfuls? There are two 7 year olds, one five, one four, and one just turned three. Aside from R (my angel, LOL) the other four are CONSTANTLY trying to "one-up" the others. I just don't get it. I guess it's a male thing, the whole "leader of the pack", "male dominance" BS. But it causes sooooooo much fighting. I can't take it anymore.
And as it turns out, neither can my own kids. At one point during the morning, R left the group to come into the kitchen with me (the others were outside) and said he didn't want to hear it anymore. I hear ya.
That was when I happened to witness another fight in the making. L was screaming at the four year old because he got to the swing first. Then he hauled off and punched him in the stomach!
I just couldn't believe my eyes. My kids are taught never to hit, or otherwise, and for most part they don't. L has his moments, with a swat here or there, but a full on sock to the gut?!
Being the red-head that I am, I immediately lost it - my temper that is.
That indiscretion just compounded on top of everything else that was getting on my nerves, and I completely lost my mind. I ran out the screen door, screaming at L to get inside, at which point I smacked him on the stomach (open handed though) to prove to him that it hurts. I also screamed at him at the top of my lungs; I'm sure the whole neighbourhood heard, the windows are open. I sent him up to his room and stayed in the kitchen, pacing, and literally shaking with anger.
And then it hit me.
I had done exactly what he had. I was no better than a five year old. I let all the day's (or week's) stress get to me, and I laid into him as I am not allowed to lay into the children that aren't mine. The ones that I truly want to lay into. Get it?
I feel horrible. I should be a better person that this. I just couldn't believe I had done that.
I dissolved into tears, trying not to get any in the KD I was mixing up. Then I went upstairs and apologized and cuddled with L for a while. And the look he gave me. It will haunt me forever. That trustful, sad look. The trust, that I didn't deserve.
Now I'm crying again. But I just feel so awful for doing that. Why do I let my temper get to me like that?
So now, I am trying something to hopefully help the situation from escalating again. I gave all the kids a stern talking-to at lunch. A whole big speach on being nice, not arguing, and following the rules. I also told them that I am implementing a new points system, where they will be losing points for arguing, and gaining ones for acts of kindness. The points will allow them to play video games, or not, if they don't have enough. I'm not quite sure how it's going to work out. These things always seem like a good idea at the time, but then end up being more work for me somehow. We'll see.
If this doesn't help though, I'm really afraid of my next step. I am going to have to "fire" someone. And I know who that someone is. I will have to admit failure, and just swallow my pride and tell his mother she has to find new care for him. I just can't continue to allow him to keep provoking me into this stressed out state. It's not fair, to me, or to my kids, or to the other kids either. And there doesn't seem to be a whole lot more I can do with him. I've looked after him for five long years now, and his behaviour has always been an issue. But timeouts are too juvenile for kids his age, and I am running out of ideas for punishments. I'm very limited with what I can do. So I'm praying, PRAYING, that the loss of video games will work with him.
Please let it work.

Evil Mother

Sometimes, I'm a really bad mom. Did you ever have a time when you just want to laugh at (not with) your kids and poke fun at them, even provoke them a little? This evil little part of you creeps to the surface and rears it's ugly head; you know, that part that's about 6 years old??? Sometimes I just have to let it out, I can't help it. I think when you go a little mentally insane temporarily, it helps to keep that from being a permanent condition.
Anyhow, we were walking back from our morning school drop-off, and L was riding his bike. He still has training wheels, and while maybe about 50% of boys his age don't, I'm not in any hurry to take them off for him. That would be a huge lesson in frustration (both his and mine from having to hear him scream, he is NOT a persistent, go-getter-keep-at-it-till-ya-drop type of kid). So instead, I raised them up about as high as they'll go, so that he teeters from one side to the other, and hopefully, learns to balance in the middle without too many accidents. He's been doing really well, but for some reason this morning, and only on the way back from school, he started to struggle. He began to fight the bike, first leaning one way, reefing on the handlebars to straighten up, then the other way. The more he fought, the worse it got, till it looked like he was riding sideways, leaning waaaaaaayyy over to one side. It looked ridiculous. and he became more and more frustrated, starting to whine and cry and curse and swear (well, in his own limited swearing vocabulary, thank god - "STUPID BIKE" "I HATE THIS DUMB THING!!")
I, on the other hand, was walking behind him becoming more and more annoyed at him because why the hell can't he ride the damn thing like he did five minutes ago? What is his problem? Just ride the effing thing like a normal kid, and stop being such a wimp!!
Then I lost it. It was either this, or start screaming at him till I ended up taking the bike away indefinitely. I started to laugh. He just was so ridiculous. And I know it was mean, and wasn't helping matters, but I couldn't stop. It wasn't a quiet giggle either, it was a loud, maniacal laugh; so much so, that the other kids were looking at me like, "What is this woman's problem?"
Thank God there were no other parents around. Who knows what they would think. Probably that a white unmarked van was about to show up out of which would hop two guys in jumpsuits toting a stretcher.
To top it off, when he burst into tears at his mother's unbelievable cruelty, I walked away from him saying, "See you later, L." Poor child. It will be a miracle if he doesn't end up in therapy.