A Letter of Congratulations to My Children for Mentally Breaking Me!
Lauren Morris, Contributor
Congratulations, children who I refuse to address by your given names! You have pushed me to the point of no return and while I will always love you, I definitely don’t like you. Throwing all 120 crayons into the dryer has proved everyone has a breaking point, so lets’s all cheer because mommy’s soul has also melted.
I’m tired. But not the “Oh, I haven’t had a full night’s sleep for the past 14 years” tired (which is true). The type of tired that my bone marrow hurts, I have no more chakra because it’s dried up, and my emotional state is that of a diaper filled with rotavirus feces that was left in the driveway for three weeks.
I no longer care that you haven’t taken a shower in 6 days and refuse to wear underwear. That your nails so long that the postal worker called you Edward Scissorhands. Your diet has turned into consuming nothing but chocolate chip ice cream with a side of Bailey’s infused-muffins washed down with Dr. Pepper for several weeks.
Felicitaciones! You scream, I scream, we all scream because life is a cesspool of despair and artificial flavoring!
What’s that? Your sheets have gone unwashed for 7 weeks, it’s been so long since you have done your homework you don’t even remember how to use a pen, and the last thing you watched on TV was the sex scene between Jessica Jones and Luke Cage? If I wasn’t so deflated by your mere existence, I would ask you to write a research report on the unexpected struggles interracial couples face.
Huzzah, you did it! No more homework and more TV!
I’ve resigned myself to buying paper plates and never washing dishes again. How is that we have plates and bowls in the cupboard but not a single fork available to use? Even Daniel Tiger uses utensils and he’s a literal TIGER!
Hip hip hurray! I now compare our lives to that of a fictional talking animal and the animal is coming out ahead!
Speaking of animals…actually, I love our dog very much and walking her at least gets me out of the house.
Truthfully, I don’t want to leave the house. I cannot fathom the amount of energy it is going to take me to get the shell of my former self out of bed.
Leaving the house means finding an article of clothing that doesn’t have an array of tie-dye crayon designs because of the dryer fiasco AND put on at minimum foundation and concealer, so I don’t get accused of being a vampire.
Mazel Tov, people think mommy is a vampire and not even the sexy kind!
Frankly, it’s easier if we order UberEats once again and rent Sophie’s Choice from Amazon Prime. At least Sophie had a choice! I’m pretty sure I would have passed on all of you.
Three cheers! While my heart will forever love you, you have mentally broken me!
Your mother who is bleeding out on the living room floor after puncturing a posterior tibial vein because of your Legos being left out AGAIN!