Tuesday, May 8, 2012


Dear May,
I love your sunshine and your beautiful blooms and your preview of summer. But May, why are you always so busy? You are so full of things to do that I can hardly enjoy all the beauty you have to offer. Between school projects and celebrations and finals and field trips and baseball and talent shows and recitals and everything else, I'm having a hard time. That's okay though, May, because things could be worse. You could be February, the longest shortest month of the year.
Keep shining,
Busy Mom

Dear Fat,
This is an eviction notice. Please vacate the premises immediately. You have overstayed your welcome and during your stay have contributed nothing worthwhile. Your landlord is working hard to see that once you have left, you will not be allowed re-entry.
That is all.
The Management

P.S. Make sure you take the extra stores you have located in the boob area.

Dear Exercise,
I know you are good. I know you are working hard at repairing the damage I have done and I'm sure it's not an easy job. But, Exercise, why do you take so long? 390 minutes a week doesn't seem like much in the scheme of things, but when you consider that I have to spend about that long in the laundry room every week, well, you can see how I'm getting a little thrown off. You have become a priority for me, but I'm just not sure how to rearrange everything else around you and make sure everything gets done. I will continue to see that you get done. But would you do me a favor and show me some results already?
Thanks in advance,
Fitness Queen

P.S. Stop laughing.

Dear Dumb Dog,
I hesitate to say anything, because you have finally (sort of) mellowed out. You haven't escaped lately, you haven't run into any neighbors' yards and brought them knocking on our door to complain, and aside from the incident with the Pit Bull--which wasn't your fault, because really, who lets their 8 year old walk a Pit Bull?--you have left me with very little to complain about. Oh, there's dog hair. There's ALWAYS dog hair. It's like laundry. You think you're done with it, but really, it just never goes away. But you've done little to give me blog fodder, is what I'm saying.
You've developed this new little um...thing. It's about you shifting your bed around in the middle of the night. It's not that you're getting up and turning circles to get more comfortable. No, you are taking your large dog bed and dragging it around our bedroom to another spot. I assume this is a little like flipping a pillow over to get the cool side, but I have to say, my pillow flipping doesn't wake you up from a sound sleep. You're like the Princess and the Pea over there and it's starting to irritate me.
Not to mention that you drag your bed to weird places. Squeezed in the corner behind the chair? Halfway under our bed? Right in the path of the bathroom door? It's a little strange, is all. Now, I can do strange, but it would be delightful if you could just be a little more quiet while you are fluffing, plumping, dragging, pushing, and tossing your bed.
Your Alpha

Dear Jamesie-boy,
You were fabulous in the talent show! If someone had told me 9 years ago when you did some odd little dance wherein you looked like a body builder showing off his pecs and arms while simultaneously shaking his tushie and throwing out his lower jaw and furrowing his brows that I would watch you dance in a talent show, I would have asked them what they were drinking and if I could have some. You, my son, have some mad skillz, yo. Last year, I had no idea what dubstepping was. Now, thanks to watching you, not only do I know it, but I think it's really cool. Just don't ask me to do it. Dude, I can't even do The Robot and just about everybody can do The Robot.
I am proud of you for working with your buddy and coming up with a cool routine. I'm proud of you for practicing. Mostly, I'm proud of you for having the courage to get up on stage in front of a couple hundred people and dance. Well done, grasshopper.
Mom (who dances like Elaine Benes in Seinfeld.)

Dear SeannieBuck,
Dude, you're batting is tickling me pink this year. I'm not sure where you gathered your confidence from this year, but I want you to hang on to it because at some point this season, you will probably need it. Just know that while your bat is hot right now, it might not stay that way and that you are still a good ball player. You know what else? I'm proud of you for helping out the kid on your team that needs a little extra of everything. We've talked about it and I've told you that he's already got a hard fight just because he's not typical and that you should do anything you can to not make that fight harder. I've watched you and you are finding ways to encourage and befriend and that? Well, son if you never hit another ball this season, I'd say you did enough to have the best season yet.
Mom (who's not a pitcher, but a total belly-itcher.)

Dear Blog Reader,
Thanks for visiting here. Thanks for coming back. Thanks for not staying away even though I've been so sporadic in my posting lately because of a combination of busy-ness and feeling as if I really don't have much to say. I write for me, because I must. But I appreciate that you want to read my words. Thanks for your comments both here in the comments section and on Facebook. It really is nice to know that you are out there.
Bless you.

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