Dear whatever…

If it’s Friday, it’s somewhat cranky letters from Jen to the universe in general, courtesy of 3bedroombungalow and Half-Past Kissin’ Time. Be sure to visit and play along. You’ll feel better, I promise.

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Dearest sons,
I am fully aware that you are playing well past your 30 minute screen time limit right now. And that A has been grounded off of screen for all eternity and he is sitting there watching. Please know that when I am done here, your time at the computer will be at an end and you will need to find something else to do that does not involve A) a screen B) whining at me for food/drink/entertainment C) riling up the dog so she barks loud enough to shake what few fillings I have and D) anything that requires wine at 4:00 for me to recover. You’re big boys, you can figure something out. Yesterday’s rousing game of CalvinBall had me rolling on the floor, go back outside and have a rematch.
With more love than you know,
Mom

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Dear spring break,
Thank you for taking it easy on me this week. With all the craziness and chaos here right now, it could have been a disaster. But the boys have been fantastic, the weather has been lovely, and this week has been, may I say, delightful. I have never called a school break delightful before, so that’s an indication of not only how good the boys have been this week, but how frakking out of control everything else has been. Please let your compadre, summer break, know that I’m not as afraid of it as I was, and that I expect much more of the same when the boys get out of school in oh my holy hell on a pogo stick eight weeks.
Need to go buy Easter candy now,
The woman in charge

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Dear clothing manufactures,
Really, would it kill you to add an extra inch or two on the bottoms of your shirts? And maybe to ensure that sleeves go all the way to the wrists? I know I’m freakishly tall, but I’m sick of my clothes not fitting. I have pushed two kids out my hoo-hah and have the (now shrinking) muffin top and stretch marks to prove it. I don’t care to show them off to the world. I know, I know, I could get all my clothes from Eddie Bauer, because they offer all of their clothes in tall, but I also like to feed my family. I prefer $8-12 shirts, not $24-30 shirts. Kohl’s I’m looking at you here, either make sure every single piece of clothing in your store will never shrink, or offer them in longs. You really don’t wanna see what peeps out from under this shirt.
Just protecting your eyes,
The Modest One

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Dearest sons again,
If you think I don’t know you’re getting food out of the pantry, you must not be as gifted as we think. My office is directly below the pantry. I can hear you drag the chair over so you can reach the forbidden shelves. I can hear you drop stuff; if not for the floor it would land directly on my head. The mere fact that J is not hanging on me right this very minute, whining about impending death by starvation, is indicative of the fact that you two are helping yourselves to whatever you see and that I should probably ascend and have you cease and desist. Then again, I’m really enjoying the silence right now.
Grateful she hasn’t yet bought any Easter candy,
The woman who only thinks she’s in charge

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Dear Great Recession,
You’re a stinky McPoopy Pants. Go away, no one likes you. Pretty soon someone is going to steal your milk money and beat you up. I can’t wait; I’ll sell tickets.
With a deep sigh,
Me

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Dear Stress,
Amazingly enough, you’re not here on the backs of my sons. Things are immensely better than last week, when I was damned near ready to walk out the door and call it quits, but you’re still here. I know things will improve in the upcoming weeks, but I hate you and your partner Uncertainty, and both of you seem to have moved in without my permission. I can only hope you two will be gone by the time school gets out next (holy shit, next?) month. I’ve done a good job this week hiding you guys from the boys, but I don’t know how much longer I can do so.
Breathing deeply,
She who needs to go back to yoga already

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Sigh. I guess I should go upstairs now and see what Riff and Raff are having for “lunch.” I am not optimistic.