A Few Notes to the World at Large

Hi everyone! Well, today officially starts my vacation. I’m leaving in a few short hours to head to Santa Barbara to spend the night so we don’t have to get up TOO early to make our 6am flight to New York tomorrow. I’m excited.

This also begins my week of very exciting guest posts. And from what I’ve seen already, you’re in for a treat. So remember to keep checking back. There are some GREAT stories to read.

Like today. Today I bring you my dear friend Stacey. Known around the bloggy world as AnyMommy. If you don’t know who she is already, you must live under a rock are really missing out. She’s awesome. She’s witty, funny, intelligent…and, uh, I’m going to stop gushing now, because I’m SO excited for you to read her post. So, get on it. And come back tomorrow to see what my BFF Mike has to say. Once again he’s up to no good.

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Dear Asshole Old Enough to Be My Father in the Red Audi Behind Me at the Stoplight Today,

Really?  Was it really necessary to honk your horn for the entire five minutes?  I got that you were unhappy in the first thirty seconds, actually.  I’m quite sharp like that.  I pick up on things like blaring, obnoxious horns easily.  Here’s the thing, the lane in front of me was backed up into the intersection.  Had I moved forward the eight feet that you so insistently requested that I move, I would have then been blocking the intersection of two major thoroughfares during rush hour in D.C.  I preferred to sit at the green light, yes, I did realize it was green, I’m good with my colors like that, until I had a clear exit from the intersection.  You, obviously, from your liberal application of your horn, would have preferred that I not do so.  Clear.  You have no time to spare sitting in the traffic that you sit in every single day of your pathetic, hurried, angry life.  The rest of us adore sitting in traffic, because we have no where to be, but you, now you need to move that eight feet in a hurry.  I understand.  I really do.  You were probably on your way home to dinner, right, after a long hard day, whereas I, I love sitting through a light several times.  In fact, I sometimes just sit at green light for kicks, waiting to see if a poor unsuspecting sap will hit me from behind, not expecting some vapid, directionless, minivan-driving mom to take a coffee break at a green light.  And actually, if you must know, I was on my way to Kmart and I was in a bit of a hurry, but not so much so that I would risk my three small children’s lives to appease your anger displacement and misplaced outrage.

Your karma is bad.  I hope it bites you.

Sincerely,
Anymommy

Dear Six Hundred Passengers on NW Flight 1272 from Minneapolis to Reagan National,

I’m sorry.  In case you are wondering, no they never do shut up.  They just keep talking.  Incessantly. All the time.  Sometimes, a fork in your eye helps.  And yes, they are capable of asking the same question nine hundred times.  I know I stop answering them and they just keep asking, getting progressively louder.  Until your brain just can’t take it anymore.  I really hope you all had headphones.  Oh and about the Potty Song to the tune of “If You’re Happy and You Know It” sung over and over at 1000 decibels.  I did teach them that.  I don’t know why they busted out with it at 15,000 feet.  I was powerless to stop them.  In my defense, it really helped with potty training.  No?  Not making you feel better?  Okay, how about this – I’m going to hell, where the Potty Song will play on repeat for all eternity.  Forgive me?

If you pee-pee in the potty you get:  M and Ms!
If you poo-poo in the potty you get:  M and Ms!

Oops, sorry, I was already going to hell so I had nothing to loose.

All the best from Hades,
AnyMommy

Dear Northwest Airlines Janitorial Service,

About the eight million teeny stickers in row 22 last Thursday, I am really, really sorry.  I know they were stuck everywhere.  The seats.  The windows.  The trey table in the locked and upright position.  The floor.  I know you are still cursing the sticker family a week later.  I don’t blame you.  I had all three babies all by myself, you see, and the stickers made them really happy and really quiet for an entire hour.  That may not seem like a good trade off to you, since you had to scrape them all off of your airplane, but let me tell you, it was worth it.  They took a break from screeching the Potty Song and you have no idea how much I wanted them to stop screaming that song.  I take full responsibility for your hatred.  Curse me at will.  If it’s any consolation, I walked through National Airport covered in stickers.   I owe you one.  Okay, two, because I am totally letting them cover everything in stickers on the way back to Washington State.

Apologies in advance for the second sticker coming,
AnyMommy

Dear Dad,

Remember on Sunday at dinner, when you asked Gee if he liked the zoo?  And he said yes.  And then you asked him what his favorite animal was and he said “the elephants because they had big balls.”  I should have told you the truth right then, Daddy, but the look on your face was priceless and I couldn’t do it.  I let you flounder and choke and nod at him, speechless.  I let everyone laugh at you.  That’s what you get for not coming with us to the zoo.

Dad, the elephants have enormous balls.  Rubber ones.  To play with.  They kick them around the enclosure and bat at them with their trunks.  The kids loved it.  They like balls.  Toy balls.  Bouncy balls.  God, this isn’t working, everything I type is dirty and you’re my dad.  He’s your grandson and he was talking about elephant toys, not elephant family jewels.  Oy vey.

Love you, Stacey

Dear K-mart Check Out Clerk Who Didn’t Speak English,

I love you.  I mean it.  You are the nicest, most compassionate K-mart check out woman whose register I have ever had the good fortune to stumble across.  You could have made fun of me.  You could have said something snide or rolled your eyes.  There I stood, with a year-old baby in a stroller and two three-year-olds wreaking havoc on your check out aisle, paying for a pregnancy test and you were kind.  You smiled conspiratorially.  You said good luck, softly, as I walked away.  I hope good things happen for you.  I hope you win the lottery or write the next Oscar-winning screen play.  I hope your dreams, whatever they are, come true.  Kindness from strangers can be rare.

Thank you,
AnyMommy

Dear Universe,

Thank you.  I know it really has nothing to do with you and it’s just random biology and luck, but still, thank you.  I know I don’t deserve it.  I know I have three beautiful children already.  I know it’s selfish and greedy and crazy, but I wanted it so badly.  I wanted this baby, this one, last, beautiful, miraculous baby, so very badly.  My last.  My youngest.  Our fourth and final.  I am older and it was not a sure thing and I am grateful beyond belief.

Namaste, AnyMommy

Dear Me,

Congratulations!  Do yourself a favor?  Slow down.  Enjoy it.  Savor.  This is it.  The very last.  Don’t blink, my love.

Love, Me

Dear Me Again,

Are you insane?  Do you know what you have done?  In eight months, if all goes well, (knock everything in sight), you will have four children under four.  For later, keep in mind, you wanted this so very badly.  Nutcase.

Love, Me

Dear Meghan’s Readers,

Hi!  Meghan rocks.  I can’t believe she asked me to guest post.  It made me feel all shy and thrilled and fluttery.  I had written a very long, serious post on a deep and troubling issue, but then this happened and well, I can’t do cognac when I’m all floaty with champagne bubbles.  Thanks for letting me shout this into the wind before I exploded and told my parent’s mailman or something.  (I’m staying with my parents in DC right now.)  And, also, if you don’t mind, shhhhhh.  I won’t post it on my blog (where my MIL reads every single day) for weeks.

Nice to meet you all,
AnyMommy

Dear Fellow AllMediocre ’08 DC Attendees,

I am heart broken about the sangria.  I don’t know what else to say.  There are no words.  I still absolutely can’t wait to meet you.  Hopefully, my not-more-than-one (two?)-glass self will not be too excruciatingly boring.

See you next week, AnyMommy

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