Dear PMS,
While I acknowledge your so-called “purpose” in nature, I otherwise loathe everything about you. I want to see YOU weepy, uncollected, and all kinds of unhinged. I would make you do yoga and meditate until you’re so centered you want to puke. Then I’d have you read Chicken Soup for the Soul books until your teeth itch from the sticky-sweet feel-goodness of it all. Then I’d plunk you down on the couch to watch something like Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, precisely until the point that your eyes bleed out, feeling so warm and fuzzy inside from the corporate-sponsored do-gooding and community togetherness the show inspires. To cap off, I’d submerge you into a hot bath to scald the tension and hostility straight from your soul. Lastly, a sweet cocktail of Xanax and wine. Smile until your face cracks apart.
Hope it feels REAL GOOD,
pen.
***
Dear Cold Season,
First, thanks so much for making one or more of my family sick from Christmas 2008 straight through to the present day. I really do appreciate your undivided attention particularly to my children and husband; it makes my job so much more enriching, fulfilling, 24/7. Special props for the coughing and discomfort you’ve provided at night, because my family operates fantastically well on interrupted, unsatisfying, and appallingly short bouts of sleep. It makes each of us glow from within the whole day through. Most of all, from the bottom of my heart, I’d like to say thank you for lingering so long with your festering, funky presence and ultimately taking your “skills” to the next level, with ear infections for my daughter and husband, a sinus infection for my baby, and asthmatic bronchitis for my husband. And keeping me *just* well enough that I’m left to be the caretaker, never the taken care of. From the bottom of my heart, bite me. I’ll be sending you the bill for the money, energy, AND sanity that was lost during this special time.
Hacking hugs and snotty kisses from all of us,
pen
***
Dear Potty Training the Strong-Willed, Over-Thinking Child,
After more than a year of you, I really have no more words. After we parted ways last month, I haven’t missed you for a single second, and even went so far as believing a third child, someday, might still be a good idea. And now, due to the aforementioned Offender B, Cold Season, the resulting ear infection and a treatment of antibiotics that are simply not kind to a little girl’s stomach, you’ve shown up on my doorstep once again, bags in hand. And you have the nerve to bring a friend?! Offender A, PMS?? It’s audacious, and it’s cold. I’m taking out a restraining order on your stalker ass, looking into vasectomies, and in the meantime, heaven help us all.
Long-sufferingly,
NOT your pal,
penelope
5 tips left at the bar:
Totally brilliant post.
It's only fitting I have a cold too but dammit all we're going to have a good time. :P
Though as such I have no grievances besides a sore throat.
Have you ever heard the saying "Life's a bitch, and then you die?"
I think you just proved it.
Fabulously penned, Pen!
We've got a lot of woes in the bar, drink up, everyone!
will you write some strongly worded letters to this week for me, and to that boy, and to valentine's day, and possibly also to my work, and my brain for forgetting the pill one day this month, resulting in, i kid you not, 2 weeks of hormones/thatwhichshallnotbenamed and then, with the actual days set aside by the pack, mother nature had the nerve to show up AGAIN? ugh. so she should get one too.
thanks!
Absolutely!
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