Post 201: 201 Things About Me

Oh, just kidding.

But I did make myself laugh when I thought of this post title yesterday.

I even scored some Sweet Pea hand soap out of that post. Thanks MH! That was awesome. I showed it to J and he said, "What, they were out of Vanilla Fluffy Fluff?" He thinks he's so funny.

So, it's correspondence time!

Dear Road Crew Working On Our Street:
I'm totally stoked that you are widening the street. It makes me not be annoyed with the hassle of coming and going. However. I need you to know--when I'm looking at you in your little tractors or diggers and I look like I'm talking to you or making eyes at you, I am actually talking to my children in the backseats.

I know the windows are tinted and you can't see them, but I assure you, I am talking to them, I am not mouthing the words, "You're hot" or "Can I get your number?"

This is the truth.

What may look like, "I think your tractor is sexy" is actually me saying, "It may well be a backhoe Bo and not a 'baby tractor', but you shouldn't tell grownups they don't know anything."

And to be fair, "Avee, stop screaming, I see the man inside the net on the widdo lellow tractoh" could easily look like, "Take me, take me now." That's the only reason I can explain the leering and the winking and the...oh, this is a PG blog. Mostly.

Besides, I haven't showered since Sunday and that was just because I had to go to church. If I shower begrudgingly for church, just imagine how much less I will do for you, Mr Widdo Lellow Tracto Drivoh!

Sincerely,
Frumpy In The Minivan


Dear Bo:
It is not polite to tell your mommy she doesn't know anything. I know you passed me ages ago in the smarts department, but it is your duty, still being under 4 feet tall, and as my child to keep that to yourself.

And also--I explained to you what Fast Food was because I thought you'd like to know that little bit of information. I definitely didn't think you'd use the information to yell out the window at the paaaaiiiiinnnnnnfully slow Taco Bell employees, "This isn't fast food, this is the slowest food ever! Slow food! Slow food!"

That is rude.

True, but still rude. As your mother, it is my duty to teach you the difference between rude--but needs to be said, and rude--but shouldn't be said. I will teach you because your father, bless his honest little heart, still hasn't quite gotten the knack for it.

Your future wife will thank me.

Love,
Mom


Dear Cute Little Town Right Down The Road From Us:
Why didn't I know you existed until today? I'm so disappointed. While I love our current location in this city, I think I would have loved spending my days in Mayberry. If only I had known how close you were.

Disappointed,
Nobody

Dear Sarah Who Just Had A Baby Boy:
Congratulations!
I am lame for not saying this sooner, but thank you for the awesome book for Bo's cards.
He doesn't know how lucky he is, but I do and I think you are very kind and thoughtful.

Love,
Nobody



Dear Y Pump Instructor:
Next time just yell, "Yo Nobody! Straighten yer arms ya heffer!" I'd actually prefer that to you stopping your instructing, making everyone wait, and you straitening my arms yourself.

I thought you were sweet, and I know you were trying to avoid hurt feelings, but having 20 people stare at me balancing my opposite-of-petite body on an amazingly-petite-once-I-lay-on-it ball AND have crooked arms, is prolly worse. Yeah, it is. If you want, you can leave off the "heffer" part. That way, it will be a compromise.

Sore To The Core,
Working The Muscle Incorrectly
p.s. Sorry I leaned against the wall that has a nice big sign that says "PLEASE DO NOT LEAN ON THIS WALL!" I saw it after class when I was rolling up my mat.


Dear Avee,
Maybe sometime when you are feeling sweet and affectionate, you could tell me that you love me and that I'm your best friend without continuing on to tell me that so is Grandma, Uncle David, Ella, Christian, Nyah, Tippany, and Daddy. Methinks perhaps the term "best" is lost on you.

Aw, it's okay. It's too doggone adorable to complain about.

However, please do keep in mind that the cookies on top of the refrigerator are there so you won't get into them. Not there to challenge you to greater heights or so you can tell me that you did it "without bweaking yo' leg".

I'm serious.

Love,
Your Mom Who Doesn't Need The ER Interrogation Again
p.s. Please keep in mind, while you are standing in the living room, hitting me in the arm with your popsicle, to get my attention so you can nark on Bo for being in the living room with a popsicle, that you are in fact, standing in the living room, hitting me in the arm with your popsicle.


Dear Elementary School Who Thinks I Can't Raise My Own Child:
Did you know that Bo weighed over 9 lbs at birth? No, you did not? Ohhhhh. Well that would be because you didn't give birth to him!
He is not your pride and joy. In a way that you have never felt pride and joy before.
His smile does not melt your heart.
You have never stayed up all night with him when he is sick.
His inability to say his R's does not make you smile every time you hear it.
You don't worry about his future so much sometimes that you can't sleep at night.
His happiness and success in life is not one of the single most important motivations in your life.
You didn't even know he was locked outside in the rain when he was left in your care.
And you didn't have to mend the broken heart that came with that experience.
With a broken heart of your own.
You don't know why he cries before he's crying.
You don't know exactly what he's going to say sometimes, before he says it.
You haven't spent hours on end answering his questions because you want him to know every little thing he wants to know.
Except for how the baby got in my tummy.
His laugh doesn't fill your heart with happiness.
He doesn't have your red hair.

I am an imperfect mother, and by most standards, a novice. But I can assure you that my best intentions as a mother, will far exceed your "procedure" any day.

I just want you to know that when my son is sick, and I have the courtesy of calling and letting you know, I may just tell you that he's sick of you and that's why he's staying home. And if you insist that I give you TWO SYMPTOMS before it's considered okay by you that I keep my own child home, let me be clear right now--what those two reasons will be:
1. Your mom
2. Goes to college

And should I ever need to take my child out of school for an appointment of any kind, and you ask me to bring a note verifying from another person that I have done what I said I would do---I will. Every time. And every time, it will be a note from our dealer, letting you know just how much hoot we bought to smoke before I brought him back.
You are welcome.

I appreciate the services you offer.

But please remember: Before anything else, I am his mother. I reserve the right to maintain that position at whatever cost. Should you feel inclined to encroach on that sacred role, I will smash you. Way more fiercely than Tyra on a good day.

Ever So Sincerely,
The Mama Bear


Dear Neighbor:
It will never cease to amaze me how you can be the most uninvolved and seemingly negligent parent around, and still have two of the most well-behaved children in the neighborhood.

It makes me want to let the neighborhood raise my children. I could let the neighbors take my kids in when they are locked out after school --regularly-- and I am nowhere to be found. Neighbors could take them to school because I will send them out in the rain and others can feed them breakfast because I can't be bothered. The will be outside moments after waking up and won't go in until long after a reasonable bed time.

And maybe in turn, they will be polite and kind to others and respectful every time you are around them.

I don't know how you do it.

Baffled,
Nobody