Dear “Anonymous” Child,
Wow. You really put me in my place. Thank you for the wakeup call. Your insight and blatant threats are truly quite humbling. I have had some real time to process your message. And by “time,” I mean the 4 seconds that I had to myself today without interruptions from my children (i.e. you), who are obviously quite troubled and offended by my actions.
I admire your bravery, yet at the same time can’t help but think, “people who don’t take responsibility for their actions are not so much brave, but rather cowardly.” Just sayin. That said, it took some real balls to do what you did. Not that you have “real” balls or anything.
I’m afraid that you have underestimated me sweet child. I know that the only child of mine that has “real” balls is not responsible for this invasion of privacy and very clear act of betrayal. He’s 3 and still shits in his pants, so I’m pretty sure that writing a very detailed and grammatically correct blog entry is beyond his skill set at this point.
Deductive reasoning wise child…Google it.
I am now left with my two beautiful daughters. Which one of you would be more likely to throw their mama under the bus for personal gain? I think we all know the answer to that one, but that seems way too obvious. I am going to go ahead and “not bite” on this one just yet. I am the master of reverse psychology and trickery dear child. Clearly, you don’t know who you are dealing with. You probably should’ve thought this one through first, but sadly for you, that ship has sailed.
Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate your “blessing” to continue on with my blog. What a load off my mind. You are right. I do struggle with the fact that although I love you with all of my heart, I really enjoy bitching about you. It’s an outlet, a coping mechanism for the shit that you put me through every single day of my life. I know that you are just being a kid, which is why I don’t take my frustration out on you, but rather choose to proclaim it to my 7 faithful readers on my (in your words) ridiculous blog.
“Mommy Guilt” is a real phenomenon. I struggle with it daily. Did you get the recommended daily intake of fruits and vegetables for your given height and weight? Did I let you watch too much T.V. yesterday? Did I read enough to you today? The truth is, I can’t fold a load of laundry without feeling guilty that I chose to do it instead of “play” with you. If I choose to sleep in on the weekend and let your Dad “hold the fort down” for an hour or two, I don’t feel rested when I finally drag my ass out of bed. I feel guilty. Guilty because I chose to sleep in instead of make you your god damn heart shaped pancakes with a chocolate chip smiley face. (I know you really like them.)
Yes, I feel guilty about my blog. I’m sure this pleases you. If I had a life outside of my children, I would have more material to work with, but alas, I do not. You are my material. It’s the price you pay for having a stay at home mom for a mom. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day of my life is consumed by you. This may seem hard to believe, but I am not complaining about it. I actually love being miserable with you at home. I don’t wish it away for a second and I certainly would not hesitate to make time stand still if I had the power to do so. I am not the Tin Man. I have a god damn heart.
As far as Grandma and Grandpa go, I am so happy that you have developed such an open and honest line of communication with them. That said, I’m pretty sure that their old person toe nails will need to be cut well before mine, so I have no doubt that they’ll come around sooner or later and realize what’s truly in their best interest.
If it helps you to sleep better at night, I will admit right here and now that every time I post something on my blog, a part of me feels guilty about it. Am I a bad mom? What will people think of me? And so on and so forth. But then random life events happen and suddenly I feel much better about myself.
Like a couple of days ago when we were at a “last day of school pool party” amongst perfect strangers and I, without any hesitation whatsoever, jumped into the pool fully clothed (shoes and everything) like some sort of deranged super hero to save you and your sister’s life. Thanks for that by the way. It was awesome. A real memory for the books.
I should probably take a moment to truly thank you, because that event in and of itself granted me at least a few more months of guiltless blogging. Holy shit, I’m not so bad after all.
Oh, and you’re welcome. You know, for the whole life saving thing. It was my pleasure.