Dear Family, Mom is Going on Strike!
tagged: humor, parenting
(Photo Credits: Photo Pin)
Consider this letter to be your official notification that I have gone on strike!! You cannot talk me out of it, and I will no longer be fielding any kind of negotiations. This is not up for debate. A bottle of wine and cookie dough will not sway me (this time).
First, please understand how much I love you and appreciate you. Especially all your contributions to the laundry pile (yes, the one up to my knees) and the overflowing sink with dirty dishes. I do love to trip over the shoes in the hallway and am always delighted to see another pair of smelly brown socks on the dining room table. (?? really??) I also know how difficult it is to find a roll of toilet paper and actually do the mechanics of taking the old roll off and putting the new one on. I would assume it takes a college degree to learn how to master such a feat, but your father has his Masters degree and still hasn’t figured it out either. Can we also all agree that the collection of old razors and empty bottles of shampoo in the shower are unnecessary? If we threw them out when they were old, (gasp) then we may not have that rust in the corners.
When you see me banging my head against the wall and talking to myself you shouldn’t be alarmed (this time).
I have decided that it is time to break the news, no matter how difficult this may seem to digest, and you may need to sit down. Here are the hard truths you will need to know during my strike.
There is NO laundry fairy, sock magician (that produces clean matching socks on demand)... nor elves that do the dishes and clean the kitchen at night. Nope.... distressing as it may be, you are going to have to buck up and (ewww) touch a wet dirty dish. Oh my. Please don’t faint my dear princess, I will provide you with a list of therapists you can call or I’m sure you can reach out to Oprah... she seems to care about these things. When you storm about in the morning wondering where all your pony tail holders are, check out the shower floor... or bathroom floor ... or the hallway... or the car floor... it’s amazing that the several boxes I have bought to store all these wonderful elastics are empty. Apparently there isn’t a pony tail holder fairy either.
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