A letter to my children
My darling children,
I write this to both of you knowing you will never read it. Why? Because God forbid we actually read anything that isn't
1 - homework, of which you will complain incessantly and wait until the last minute to read 20 chapters
2 - your friend's My Space
3 - the life story of whatever celebrity/sports figure you love this week
4 - the Victoria's Secret catalog (yes, both of you).
And what better way to do it, than on my blog where
First - Your grandparents (God love them, they must have felt sorry for me that Christmas) bought you both boom boxes capable of reaching ear-shattering volumes. That are in your rooms. Therefore, it is not necessary for you to blast the latest Daddy Yankee (why is he called that, anyway? He is from Puerto Rico and didn't speach English until recently. But I digress.) song, complete with video, from the computer in the great room so I can't hear the voices in my head telling me to run away from home.
And while we are on that subject...I don't want to see the video. I didn't want to see it on tv, I don't want to see it on the computer and I sure don't want to see the "Mom, you gotta see this hot guy" video the 10th time you ask. It sucks just as bad the first time you asked.
Second - My darling Princess. It is not necessary for you to scream at the top of your
Third - Dearest Baseball Star. Plain and simple, stop annoying your sister. Don't throw candy wrappers at her, try to trip her, knock on her door and run or do any of the 5 million other things you do that cause her to make The Noise (see second point). We all know you are home, you don't need to do
And finally. Yes, you both have to do chores and yes you both have a bedtime. I'm sure that it totally sucks Cheerio holes that you have to actually do something around the house ::cough:: Baseball Star ::cough::, but I'm not a maid/laundress/chef. And, while all your friends might not have a bed time, you do. Get over it. When you graduate high school you can go to bed whatever time you want. You aren't missing much by "staying up a half hour, Mom".
In closing, remember that I love you with all my heart. However, you are both driving me freaking insane. Also remember that should I go completely insane, you will have to be the ones to take care of me when I'm a dribbling idiot who needs to be fed all her meals.
Posted by Heather at 12:46 PM