Dear blog readers/Facebook friends,
I find it amusing that my last blog post (about the not-so-joyous aspects of motherhood, in case you missed it) generated more hits than any other post I have written in the last 5 1/2 years. Is it because I posted the link on Facebook with a comment about being embarrassed and desperate? Maybe it is like a terrible car accident, where people can't keep themselves from staring at someone else's bad day. Whatever the reason, thanks for listening, and thanks for your advice. Once I emerge from my ice-cream-and-Oreos land of woe, I'm sure I'll implement some of your strategies. Until then, pass the Double Stufs.
President, Emotional Eaters Anonymous
Dear will power,
Where art thou? We were great friends once, what with all that weight loss last year. Don't you know how great it will feel to kick the last 20 pounds? Yeah, me neither. Pass the ice cream.
Dear National Board of Psychiatry,
I think the profession that you certify is a racket. That is all.
Thank you so much for the raging fit you had today in Walmart. I thought I'd treat myself to an errand with just two Littles (simple pleasures, right?), but boy howdy, you made up for the lack of bodies in my wake. So much for a quick jaunt for school supplies! It's a good thing public tantrums don't phase me, because you threw one for the record books. Zach was mortified.
THAT mom at Walmart
Dear Matilda A. Wilson,
You are an ancestor of my husband's paternal grandmother. I accidentally had you sealed to the wrong person (ooops!). It turns out your husband is Robert Janes, whereas the Robert James I thought was your husband actually died as a baby three days after the Christmas of 1877. As a result of my error, Robert James and his whole family, including the three sisters that died the same week he did, are an eternal family, so I'm not losing sleep over it. But you and your sweetheart will have to wait a while longer. Sorry about that. In the mean time, I'll keep trying to find your kids. If you don't have any, please send me a sign or something, because I can't find their records anywhere.
A novice genealogist
KEEP YOUR DIAPER ON OR LEARN TO USE THE POTTY FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!!!
You may have noticed that we weeded our yard and mowed the scraggly lawn. It was about time, right? You are welcome.
The family with all the kids that doesn't make yard work a priority
Dear people that we sit by at church next Sunday,
I'll apologize in advance. Because Garry is speaking in sacrament meeting, he will sit on the stand and I will attempt to corral my children with my own two hands. It won't be pretty. Let me know what Garry says because I'm sure I won't hear a word.
Dear Physical Therapist,
I am beginning to think your profession is a racket, too. Why do I hurt so much if I am making progress? I don't get it. An otherwise healthy 34-year-old should not have a limp. I'm just sayin'...but see you Friday.
Your 9:30 patient
Dear Frontier credit card,
How is it possible that I dropped you without noticing? I stuck you and my driver license, along with my phone and ear pieces, in my little YMCA pouch the other day. You were there when I started working out, but missing when I got home. It's like you vanished into thin air...or jumped into someone's sticky fingers, or something that couldn't possibly be MY fault. Garry had to order a new card, which of course has different numbers, so now I have to memorize the new ones in order to make online transactions lickety-split.
First world problems, right?
Dear Peyton, Colorado,
You are a neighbor to Colorado Springs, and yet before Wednesday I had never passed through your loveliness. Next time I feel the urge to belt it with the Dixie Chicks, I'll visit your wide open spaces. Now I just have to convince my sister to become your resident. She wants to live on a farm, and I want her to live here. Give her a call, 'kay?
Remember how you mailed me brand new glasses, like, two months ago? Yeah, me too. Well, Kate took the opportunity to wrench those glasses in half, so I'm looking for replacements. In the mean time I'm rockin' the one-earpiece look while I watch late-night TV.
You are so pathetic. How did I forget how to write you? All of a sudden, I get hung up on my first name, and it goes downhill from there. I think I'm going to start signing my checks with an elaborate X, and then saying other things that rhyme.
Dear inner hoarder,
Until recently I denied your existence. I'm an organizer and a purger, right? Well....I discovered that I really like to buy things, and then have the satisfaction of getting rid of the extras later on. The advent of school starting, for example, is a wonderful reason to buy new clothes and such, even though just last month I picked through all of my children's belongings and eliminated about half of them. I'm on to you....but it's so much fun to buy things for my kids....so I'm sure we will meet again soon.
The girl with a problem
Dear garage sale waiting to happen,
You are a giant pile/mess/source of stress in my garage. I have planned to have you for months, but when it comes right down to it, the thought of actually holding a garage sale stresses me out. My new plan is to donate everything to some organization that will pick you all up, and call it a tax write-off. Surely people need all of your wares more than I do. (See last letter.) Please convince Garry that this is a good idea, or magically transform into a pile of cash. Thanks much.
I have nearly survived you once again. I'm not sure if the "nearly" means you are almost over or if "nearly" means I didn't quite survive. Whatever the case, school starts in ten days, and, for the record, I won't be one of those mothers weeping on the curb as she waves off the bus. That's partly because my kids don't ride the bus, and partly because the first day of school is one of the happiest days of the year. Don't judge.
Until next time--The Mom