Dear Me

Oh, Dear ME,
Hold still.

The smallest of personally performed motion might make you throw up at any moment. You are in the vortex, I'm sure, of a storm the likes of which we'll never see again. Or possibly we'll see it every day until the children leave for college. But don't think about that now.

Three days ago our eldest daughter was in hysterics because the dog might die... in the next five years or so. "But that means he'll be gone by the time I'm 14!" she wailed. She has had tears for too many reasons to count in the ensuing days, and you know you are supposed to have some mommy wisdom for these 'tween crises: "Zoe made fun of my jump rope trick." "Mr. Robertson made the timed test harder for our group!" "I have more chores than the others!" Her highs are nearly as stressful as the lows, because her normally adorably gravelly voice goes shrill with excitement while her Mary Lou Rhetton-like body becomes a 60-pound ricochet of joy.

Today the normally sunny seven-year-old has some sort of hypochondriaical tummy ache so severe that she's walking around at a perfect 90-degree waist bend. She can't ride bikes or run down to fairyland or check on the chicks, of course, due to this tummy ache. She probably expects you to do something other than Pepto-Bismol and water and a suggestion to use the bathroom. You cuddled her, you soothed her forehead and suggested she watch a movie and let the other girls stick to the rowdy outdoor play, and all you got for your efforts was a wailing protest that they shouldn't have fun *without* her.

Couldn't you think of a way to make everyone happy? Probably your motion would fix it, but DON'T GIVE IN TO TEMPTATION.

Don't move.

Yesterday the four-year-old changed clothes not fewer than six times, with several layers of clothing each outfit, and threw the discards in Mt. Washmore for your laundry enjoyment. At this moment she is hiding in the corner of the office mumbling "I still feel angry. There's no way to stop the crankies." Over and over again. Her five-year-old playmate refused to share a Barbie something or other and she quite understandably lost her temper. You want her to take the time out somewhere out of earshot, but the chaos out there is too much for her preschool self. She, like the others, changes moods even more often than clothing.

Take a cue from this. Hide out in the office as long as you feel is appropriate. Or legal.

Thankfully the baby is sleeping peacefully. Do not be lulled into believing it's a sign of peace and order to come. Today is bound to be your undoing.

So hold very still.

Sincerely,
Speaking from Experience

National Blog Posting Month April #2

Hey, 30 letters in 30 days. A snap. I am writing letters I should've written.

December 20, 2005

Dear Sir:
Please accept this resignation in the sincere manner it is intended. As much as I have enjoyed working as an independent broker at your family-run company the last four years, it is past time for me to go. In my experience, staying longer than I know I should will not serve either of us well. I have learned much from you and I appreciate your willingness to share from decades of experience.

I also recognize that you have made huge efforts to accomodate me and my quirky desire for mentorship. I appreciate the yearly goal-setting lunches. I appreciate even more the times when you were truly too busy for me but took time to hear about my deal anyway. I know once I had your attention it was your full attention, and you attacked the challenges as though they were your own.

You often asked if there was anything you could do to help me be more successful. My answer was consistent: please help me figure out a way to be with my family more. It wasn't fair of me, of course, to bring it up so repeatedly. So I can't blame you for never having an answer to that particular request. Along these lines, I ask your indulgence one last time. I am leaving, and I hope to do so gracefully. I am really leaving, and I need you and your family business to realize that I am at last recognizing that what you have done is put your family first. You did answer the question by example, and so I hope you can respect my decision as a choice you might have made.

Sincerely,
Finally Found Courage

NaBloPoMo

I don't know what this is. I read about "NaBloPoMo" on a good blog KL sent to me (MistyWagner.blogspot.com... Rainy Day in May) and I had some fun guessing what this strange word might stand for. I could ASK, but that would be too direct. So I gather that there is a challenge to write a letter every day this month. And because I firmly believe that the art of letter writing is endangered, I am so excited. I am so *there.*

I think I will try to write a letter each day that I wish I had written during some other time in my life. Who knows if this is in the spirit of the challenge. I just wanna see if I can do it. And maybe if my kids and the dinner bell allow I will try to look up the NaBlo etc. thing later.

December 11, 1998
Dear Madeleine,
Hello.
I said that word over and over again to you during your first moments in the world, your first precious minutes breathing air. You are our first child and we will share a bevy of firsts, so let me be the first to tell you how desperately I love you already. Mommy and Daddy love you, not the least reason being because we waited so long for you. But now that you're here it's all about you. We loved the idea of you and now we're in love with you. Your ten tiny toes and your smooshed nose and your head full of hair and ideas. Thank you for making us parents.
Hello.
Love,
Mommy