I'm having one of those days. You know the ones. Nothing is going well.
So, in honor of this, I will be writing letters to all aspects of my life that are aggravating me right now. It's cheaper than a therapy session.
Dear Girlie Bird,
I love you. I want you to know that. But, I have a few questions for you. Why, oh why do you feel the need to wake up at 5:30 am? Why do you feel the need to bite other children in the nursery at church? And how is it, after waking up at 5:30 am, you feel that you only need an hour long nap today, ending right as your brother is going down for his? Just wondering. You are wearing me out.
Love,
Mommy
Dear dishwasher,
Why is it that you cannot manage to get my dishes clean? This needs to improve, or you will be replaced.
Yours Truly,
The Management
Dear Love of My Life,
I love you. But you know what I don't love? Bottle feeding calves.
And piles of dirty man clothes on the floor.
Oh, and wet towels on the bed.
Love you,
Your Tired Wife
Dear Baby Calf,
Why do you need to be bottle fed?
Sincerely,
Your Bottle Feeder
Dear Boy Birdie,
I love you. You are such a great kid. But here's something to try. Try leaving your clothes on when we're home sometimes. And try picking up some of your toys on occasion, and the clothes that you shed immediately when we walk into the house. And do you really have to pee every time we go outside, or is it just fun to pee outside?
Honestly I don't have anything else to ask of you right now - you've been good lately.
Keep up the good work,
Mommy
Dear Mable,
Stop running away and rolling in cow crap. If I have to give you a bath one more time, I may have to kill you.
You think I'm kidding, dog?
Just try me.
Love,
Your Mommy
Dear House,
Please clean yourself.
Thanks!
Your Inhabitants
Dear Cows,
Please, please just have your calves so we can stop checking on you all the stinking time. And if it's not too much trouble, have them normally, don't let them die, and please don't die yourselves.
Thanks!
Your Farmers
Now, I feel better.
Thanks for listening.
2 comments:
Mabel. God love ya. Molly is eating her's and Sophie's poop. Gross. Dogs can just be gross. :) And I dare say I never get close to her mouth nor do I brush her teeth... just don't let her lick ya. ha!!! Mabel, God love ya dog.
this post almost made me pee in my pants (which isn't too terribly difficult for this old preggo body) - but hey. You are funny. And I love you! :-) Must come feed the calf soon!!!!! Maybe one day next week?
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