Dear Co-workers and friends with small babies and toddlers,
I really love you guys and also I love your children.
However? I know this is hard for you to remember, but I’m a mother too.
No, my children are not small and cute and cuddly and adorable. They no longer do things like pee-pee in the potty to get applause and say things like, “mama” and “baba” when they see me or, you know, sheep. But they are still children. They are my children. And I am a mother.
I know it’s not easy to be friends with me when we have very little in common. I know my kids are past the stage of being interesting to you, and that’s okay. Really, it’s okay. I know that everyone is extremely fascinated with little babies and little toddlers and that’s okay too. Hell, *I’m* fascinated with your kids.
But I’m fascinated with my own kids.
Therefore, it really hurts my feelings when you talk about things like Mother’s Day and pretend I’m not even in the room. Yes, I’m excited for you because it’s your first Mother’s Day, or the first one that your kid will remember, or the first one in which your child bought you a present. Honestly, I am.
But it’s Mother’s Day for me too. And really? Everyday of my life is Mother’s Day. Because when you think you can’t have any babies at all, ever, and you get handed two in one fell swoop? Well. It’s pretty sweet.
Also? Inviting all the mother’s to a special lunch and leaving me out and then half-assedly mentioning it once you got back and telling me you “forgot”? Sucks.
The mother of TWINS who raised them BY HERSELF for five years, thank you very freaking much and might actually have something to bring to the table
Dear woman in the burgundy mini-van in the furthest left lane on Interstate 40,
Sweetheart, I feel you.
Honestly. I do.
Because it was pretty darn apparent by the insane faces you were making toward the backseat of your mini-van? That you had a screaming toddler back there. Likely, a screaming toddler who was NOT amused.
I’ve been there.
Once? I drove over five hundred miles by myself with two infants. BY MYSELF. I had to stop to go to the bathroom and I went to this McDonalds in North Carolina? And a really, really skeevy man asked me if he could hold one of my babies while I went into the bathroom. Seriously. It was crazy.
So I can sympathize with your plight.
However, dear, really? You should consider NOT DRIVING IN THE FAST LANE DURING RUSH HOUR TRAFFIC WHILE TRYING TO TEND TO YOUR BABY. Sorry, I had to yell because it’s possible you might not hear me over your child screaming. It is dangerous, it is rude, and you darn near took out a FedEx truck because, while this may come as a surprise to you, you actually DON’T have eyes in the back of your head. Seriously. You can’t see the road in front of you if you are completely turned around looking at your baby.
Move over. Stop. Do something. Just don’t subject everyone else to your child’s tantrum. We understand, we do. We just don’t want to be killed.
That Chick in the Hyundai Santa Fe
Dear Makers of Ouidad products,
Will you marry me and live with me forever and ever?
Because seriously. My hair has never looked better. And it looked pretty darn good before!
Your loyal customer forever
Dear Vitalicious company,
Your brownies are the new crack.
An overweight woman who is desperate for her chocolate fix
Mother’s day is SUNDAY. This Sunday. Not next Sunday. Not some Sunday twelve years from now when my children have their own jobs and cars and can go purchase something for me by themselves. THIS SUNDAY. Like, two days from now.
Also? I showed you a piece of paper that had what I wanted CIRCLED on it. I advised you that the store that carries this particular item is less than one mile from your office. LESS THAN ONE MILE. It’s less than FIFTEEN DOLLARS. We just bought you a new suit that was over $400. Really, I don’t think buying me a fifteen dollar item would tax us financially in any way whatsoever.
Dear person I work with,
I know this is something you are unaccustomed to, since you work for the government, but when I say I am here to help you, I really mean it. Please stop looking at me like I’m a Nazi spy.
Your co-worker. I know you can’t remember my name