Ah, children. They truly are a remarkable blessing, aren’t they? Do you recall the time before you graced our lives? Remember when acquiring nice possessions was as simple as stepping into a store? We could bring home those treasures, place them wherever we chose, and they would remain exactly as we left them—whole and unharmed. Those were the days.
Now, with children in the mix, everything seems to be in disarray—our homes, our vehicles, even our sanity. It’s as though my children are born with an innate ability to destroy everything I cherish.
As a result, I felt compelled to compose an “open letter” to you, my little tornadoes, primarily because you excel at leaving things open and never closing them. You probably won’t read it anyway, and given its open nature, this letter will likely become irrelevant in two days—just like the food in our pantry. But hey, I’ll write it nonetheless. It seems I enjoy conversing with myself.
My beloved children,
You are undoubtedly the highlight of my existence. You give my life purpose, yet you also drive me to the brink of madness. I cherish having you around, but perhaps not so much in my personal space. I had envisioned motherhood as a journey of endless selflessness, but surprise! I still have belongings that I would appreciate if you kept your distance from. Here are a few things I’d really like you to stay away from:
My Bed
I’ll confess, when you were little, I welcomed your tiny bodies into our bed. Now, however, you’ve grown—some of you towering over me at six feet tall. What was once cozy has turned into a wrestling match complete with drooling, random punches, and even the time one of you took a bite out of my ear. It feels as if I’m sharing a bed with a heavyweight champion.
My Guest Bathroom
This is a sanctuary meant for visitors—a rare space in our home that maintains some semblance of order. It serves as a reminder of my life before children, complete with pristine towels and luxurious soap. So when you come home from school and decide to use this bathroom as your personal space for dubious activities, my eye begins to twitch. You have your own bathroom for a reason—can’t I have one little area that remains untouched?
My Purse
You seem to think my purse is a treasure chest for your explorations—fishing for my phone, coins, gum, or even a spot to dump your half-eaten snacks. Just a reminder: my purse is not a trash receptacle. If you fancy discovering gooey bananas and leftover candy wrappers, perhaps parenthood might be your calling!
My Phone
Your phone is perpetually out of battery, and thus you often turn to mine. Why, you ask? Because while I’m engaged in my rare adult conversations, you’re busy streaming shows, snapping selfies, or filming your latest dance moves. Much appreciated.
My Bedroom/Closet/Nightstand
Unless you’re in the mood to discover a creepy box of baby teeth or my secret collection of items, I suggest you steer clear. And just to clarify, that is not a miniature lightsaber you found. Put it down and back away!
My Makeup
This is directed primarily at my daughter, of course, unless my son suddenly decides to adopt a Goth aesthetic.
My Good Chocolate
I implore you to leave my fine Swiss truffles alone and indulge in your Halloween stash instead. You wouldn’t appreciate the nuanced flavors anyway—they’re “spicy.”
My Food
It doesn’t matter what I’m eating; you’ll always request a taste. Only to suddenly remember you only enjoy bland foods slathered in ketchup. Thanks for regurgitating your rejected bites back onto my plate. Fantastic diet plan.
My Good Scissors
I had a pair of exceptional scissors—emphasis on “had.” Now, I’m left with a pair of safety scissors that are sticky with banana residue, which I found crammed in my purse.
My Adult Conversations
It’s nearly impossible to discuss significant matters with friends when your voice suddenly pierces through with urgent requests about your “green poop.” Of course, you’re in the guest bathroom. Why must you only seek my attention when I’m on the phone or trying to have a moment of adult interaction?
Someday, when I’m older and you’re reflecting on the chaos you’ve caused, you might say, “Oh, Mom, we’re so sorry for wrecking your home and your dreams.” And then, who knows, maybe you’ll send me to a home where I can reminisce about my good days while you visit every weekend, probably to snag my dessert.
Hopefully, you’ll bless me with grandchildren similar to you, and I trust those little rascals will avenge my honor.
With love,
Mom
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In summary, while children can bring joy and chaos into our lives, it’s essential to establish boundaries around personal spaces and cherished belongings.
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