Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Letters from Laurel Land

My recent blog posts have been inundated with sentiment and emotional depth, which, although sincere and interesting, puts a lot of pressure on this wannabe writer. This week, I figured that I would give my readers a sneak peek into what seriously runs through my brain on a daily basis. It certainly isn’t emotionally provoking, nor will it offer any insight into the meaning of life. But it is a reflection of my life. And it definitely is somewhat humorous and blatantly honest.

Being a stay-at-home mom can be quite lonely at times. This is especially true if those that you are home with have a very limited vocabulary and/or mediocre conversational skills. In times of such social seclusion, I often find myself writing little mental Post-It notes to the world that help me focus on the funny, rather than the frustration of it all. They usually end up as entertaining Facebook status updates, but as of late, there seems to be an abundance of them so I decided to create a log of them just to demonstrate the chaos that can ensue over a week’s time living in my home.


Dear Caiden,

I do not launder your clothing in skin-activated acid nor will you die by wearing pants. Believe it or not there is a social standard with regard to wearing such garments. Until you are old enough to Google where the nearest nudist colony is, let’s try not to fight about this.

Love,

Momma


Dear Baby No-Name,

Ouch. Knock it off. I know that it’s cramped in there, but, trust me, in the grand scheme of things I can guarantee you that it has been more uncomfortable for your Ol’ Lady.

Love,

The Woman You Keep Kicking in the Ribs


Dear Charter,

I really shouldn’t have to reboot my entire cable system every time I want to watch something On Demand. Your services suck and if I didn’t rely on the television right now to keep my kid entertained while I wallow in uber pregnant-dom, they would all be cancelled.

No Love,

Laurel


Dear Hips,

I miss you.

Love,

Laurel


Dear Mother Nature,

Any chance you could take a break from dumping rain on us just long enough so that I can run out to purchase supplies for my ark?

Sincerely,

Sick of the Storms


Dear Dan,

Your mistress is on the phone again. She answers to the name “Overtime”. No, no. Don’t feel bad. I, too, fall victim to her alluring nature. Just don’t be pissed when you see the Target bill.

Love,

Laurel


Dear Baby No-Name,

Seeing that you are still currently specifically unidentified, I wanted to let you know that, as of this week (one that was spent preparing for your arrival), the title “Captain Hand-Me-Down” may appear on your birth certificate.

Love,

Mommy


Dear Caiden,

Today I had a fleeting moment of pride and accomplishment reveling in the fact that “Mount Washmore” (the giant pile of laundry downstairs) was now “No More”. Then, while I was busy folding said laundry in the basement, you were busy re-potting a spider plant in my bed. Thanks.

Love,

Momma


Dear Heart Rate Monitor,

It is really annoying when you pick up the heart rate of the super fit guy sprinting on the treadmill next to me while at the gym because it messes up my own workout and stats. Don’t get me wrong, though. I am totally going to claim the “calories burned” that you are calculating using his rapid heartbeat.

Sincerely,

The 9-Month Pregnant Waddling Walker


Dear Full-Night’s Rest,

Where you at?

Love,

Preggers


Dear Self,

If you continue to write imaginary notes to everyone, it may be time to consider therapy.

Love,

Self


Dear Caiden,

This afternoon we went for a walk around the neighborhood. As usual, during the last stretch I let you get out of the wagon and run home all by your “big boy self”. Watching you so free and happy made me smile ear-to-ear. Literally. I may not use the exact words or say them aloud, but I thank God for you each and every day.

Love,

Momma



[Okay. So maybe there is an occasional bit of sentiment to my daily existence. But if you live in this house and want to survive, you gotta know how to laugh.]

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