To my dearest, darling children,
It has been a wonderful summer. If you were old enough, or I were so inclined, we could've hashtagged the hell out of it—the beach, the ice cream cones, the fireflies, and fireworks. It was all so much fun and I'm so grateful to have had this time to spend together. And now, loves of my life, I need you to get on that bus. Immediately, if not sooner. And since I so rarely tell you what it is I need—here is a list:
I need breakfast to be something that happens perfunctorily as you run out the door; not an endless parade of waffles, cereal, yogurt, and fruit that goes on for an hour.
And speaking of food, I need to go grocery shopping without four extra hands trying to sneak things into the cart (did you really think I wouldn't notice the peanut butter cups?).
I need six straight hours a day without anyone asking me for a snack (if you think my kids sound like they have tapeworms, trust me, you're not alone).
I need you to wear one outfit each day instead of six, so that eventually I can emerge from under this pile of laundry and rejoin society.
I need to be able to leave the house for two hours without a bag packed with snacks (again), water bottles, hats, books, and sunglasses as if I'm going on a weeklong camping trip.
I need to stop being late for everything because I inevitably forgot to factor in the 20 minutes it takes to chase you down and slather you with sunscreen.
I need to be able to have a private conversation on the phone, instead of reverting to my unique blend of half-spelling and Pig Latin, designed to confuse a six-year-old but generally not understood by anyone at all.
I need to take a shower without simultaneously making pleasant conversation.
I need to be able to use a public bathroom without an entourage.
I need a break from refereeing vicious hair-pulling fights.
I need you to spend some time away from each other, so that you can have a ceasefire that lasts past 9 AM.
I need your regularly scheduled bedtime to be the rule again and not the exception.
I need to be able to clean the house faster than you can mess it back up, which is never going to happen as long as the only time I'm here without you is when you're upstairs sleeping and I'm draped across the couch, willing myself to move.
I need to go back to being able to mindlessly put the radio on in the car, without censoring every song and worrying which choice lyric you'll be repeating in mixed company.
I need to stop humming the Paw Patrol theme song.
I need to read something that doesn't include talking animals, princesses, or dinosaurs.
I need to stop tripping on your shoes all over the house, which seem to materialize out of nowhere and multiply like Gremlins.
When I go to Costco, I need to be able to use my cart as a cart, and not as a vehicle for riding in or on.
And finally, like every parent across America, I need to NOT watch you whip or watch you nae nae. Ever. Again.
And so, my little ones, for all of these reasons, it is time for us to go our separate ways. But I also need you to know how much I love you and that I miss you already. I'll be at the bus stop in just a few hours, anxiously waiting to hear all about your day. And yes, I'll have snacks.
Love, Mom
