June 28, 2009
Open Letters
I’m ranting open letter style. If I don’t get this stuff off my chest, I’ll go mad. If you’re not in the mood for ranting, by all means skip this post.
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Dear Neighbors,
Yes, I realize the 4th of July is next Saturday, but does that really mean I have to endure several nights of home-grown explosives because you’ve decided to celebrate early? And why do y’all insist on lighting these damn things after 10 p.m.? Can we keep it down until this Friday? If you shut the hell up until then, I won’t say a word when you light the damn neighborhood on fire on Friday, Saturday and Sunday.
Thanks,
The tired pregnant woman down the street.
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Dear Dawson,
Your mother is tired. She is. I know you’d love to have every freakin’ toy that Nickelodeon advertises during commercials, but I’m not made of money. Bills must be paid.
I know you want to go on the “inner net” and check out PlayhouseDisney.com, Legos.com, LuckyCharms.com and Trix.com, but you have no idea what to do on some of these sites, and you hollar for me to come help you. I have work to do, so can you please ask your Dad to help?
Yes, I know you want to go vote for the Most Addicting Video Game because Spencer (no, I don’t know his real name) from iCarly says you should. But, seriously…I’m tired and crabby and I’m trying very hard not to scream and yell at you for constantly asking me to do things and get things for you. I love you very, very much, but PLEASE go bother your Daddy with your insane requests.
Love,
Mumma
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Dear Huz,
I know you work really hard at your job so that our mortgage is paid and food is on our table, but I work just as hard. I have a job, too, remember? It’s just as important as yours. Just because I work from home, that does not mean that all household responsibilities should fall on my shoulders, as they seem to do lately.
I’m tired of cleaning incessantly. I’m tired of picking up after you and Dawson. I’m tired of running errands all the time, because someone waits until the last minute to tell me that we’re out of toilet paper, paper towel, zest bar soap and dog food. You work in a place that sells every single one of these items (no, not Walmart) and I’m not buying that old excuse: “I work 8 hours and deal with crabby customers every day… The last thing I want to do is shop where I work.”
You know what? I work 6 hours from my living room while making sure our child is fed, entertained and not trying to ride the dog like a pony. The last thing I want to do is clean the house and then go get toilet paper so y’all can finally poop. Plus, I’m pregnant. And you’re damn right I’m playing that card.
Love,
The woman who makes sure shit runs around here.
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Dear Ditzy Gas Station Girl,
When my son begs for a corndog from your hot food warmer thing, and when said corndog falls through the bottom of your shitty wrapper and onto the floor, and when I tell you about it, I don’t want to hear you say, “So, does that mean you don’t want it anymore?” Duh!
And when I jokingly ask, “Well, how dirty is the floor?” I don’t want you to tell me, “Well, not that dirty!” in a very serious tone of voice.
Seriously, if the floor of a freakin’ gas station is really as clean as you think, YOU EAT THE CORNDOG. Right there, in front of me.
OF COURSE WE WANT A NEW ONE!
Sincerely,
Mom to a Corndog Lover
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Dear Person That Shall Not Be Named,
Yeah, I know we’re both pregnant and due on the same day. Yes, I enjoy commiserating about pregnancy and labor and delivery.
However, I’m tired of listening to you piss and moan about your ailments. I’d like to vent, too, but I never get a word in edgewise.
And, I’m tired of you trying to “one-up” me at every turn. I concede. You win. Your pregnancy is way more fascinating and exciting and problematic than any other pregnant woman’s on the planet. Now shut the hell up.
Best,
The woman who is sick of listening to you.
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Dear YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE,
I know you want to voice your opinion on what we’ll be naming the baby, but for the 800th freakin’ time, we already have a name chosen and you are just wasting your breath. SHUT UP. I would tell you to your face, but instead I smile and nod, because something tells me you don’t listen anyway.
Love,
Dana
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Man, I feel better. Who would you write an open letter to?
Posted by Dana @ 8:25 AM • Bedlam,I Need to Vent
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June 28th, 2009 at 11:04 AM, Headless Mom Says:
Great letters. Hang in there, Girl!
.-= Headless Mom´s last blog ..I’ve Never… =-.
June 29th, 2009 at 1:53 PM, Kelly Says:
Oh I am so there with you on the fireworks one – actually anytime any loud noise on a weeknight past like 9 or 10 pm…. RIGHT outside my toddler’s window?? I mean are they going to come in and put her back to sleep? (I am also pregnant so sleep is near and dear to me and unfortunately hard to find).
.-= Kelly´s last blog ..Testing Out Skills…With a Playdate! =-.