Dear So and So...Earworms and Other Annoyances

Dear Brain,

I don't know why all of a sudden you have decided that I need the chorus of the 90's dance hit "What Is Love" by Haddaway to repeat over and over in my head this morning, but can ya stop? I have been nodding my head randomly to the beat in my brain and I must look like a complete idiot. Thankfully, I haven't actually left the house yet, so I haven't made an idiot of myself in public yet, so if you could stop by the time I actually do have to leave the house it would be much appreciated.

Ta, Kat

--------------------

Dear Cold,

I resisted you all day yesterday and apparently you didn't take too kindly to this and decided that you would kick my butt last night. I thought maybe I had gotten through the worst of it by the time I went to bed. Of course I woke up this morning with nose completely stuffed up and running, my eyes puffy, and my face feeling like it was going to either cave in or explode (one can't be sure with this sort of sinus pressure), so you win. I give up. You just have to vacate my body by 4:30 because I have a school disco to sort out.

A Mother's Job Is Never Done and All That, Kat

-----------------------

Dear Children of Mine,

No hitting, no biting, no pushing, no pulling, no yelling, no running, no jumping, no complaining, no begging, no demanding, no wearing my high heeled shoes, no cartwheels in the house, no asking what time the disco starts, no insisting we do it NOW, no playing music at the loudest possible volume on your radio... are we getting the point? Mommy is sick and just wants to lay on her bed and watch reruns of Law and Order all day. You can go play Wii or watch TV or you know, play with all those toys your dad and I have wasted our money on. Just give me a bit of peace for one day. Please?

Love, Mom

---------------------

Dear LaLa,

Let me say it again, I am sick, no I am not going to cook you an egg in a hole for breakfast. Yes, I know it is you favorite breakfast ever and that I "never ever" make it for you. There is a good reason for me not making it this morning though, I'm sick and we are out of bread. Stop crying and begging. It really isn't becoming on a seven year old.

Love, Mom

--------------------

Dear Post Office on Base,

I know it is a luxury to have an American post office over here in England. I really actually do appreciate it, but we have an issue. You see, there are about four different books in route to me right now and by my calculations they should have all been here about a week ago. Yet, they seem to have disappeared. Now, I know this is not impossible but highly unlikely, so could you triple check that you somehow haven't misplaced them? I really would like to read my trashy romance novels sometime soon.

Thanks, Kat

-----------------

Dear People,

Don't judge me for reading trashy romance novels. They are like junk food. I can't help it.

Slightly Embarrassed, Kat

----------------

Dear Readers,

Yay!! It's Friday!!! If you have letters of your own that you would like to link up, please do. Have a safe weekend. If your kids are out for half term may the force be with you.

Love, Kat

-----------------------

The Mom Cold

You try to fight it, feeling it sneaking up on you slowly- the slight sore throat, the sniffly nose, the tired eyes; and then you just admit it. You have a cold. Of course, Moms can't be sick, so you get up and make a cup of coffee and get on with it. You sort out the school clothes, pack the lunches, get the kids dressed, sign slips to go back to school, sign the reading record, practice spelling words, make breakfast, comb the kids hair, kiss their cheeks and then put them on the school bus. You then come inside and want to curl up on the couch but the washing needs to be started, errands need to be run, the living room looks like a bomb site and the dog still needs a bath- so you get started on that. Before you know it, it is three thirty and the kids are on their way home from school. So, you get a snack together, wait for the bus, get the kids inside, tell them to quit fighting, check their backpacks, feed the kids, ask them what they would prefer for dinner, get them started with their homework and reading, fold some clothes, and cook dinner. Then the husband is on the way home, so you get dinner on the table, wait for him to come through the door, eat dinner, help tidy the kids rooms, give the kids a bath, get the kids in their PJs, read the kids a bedtime story, send the kids off to sleep, and then tell the kids to stay in bed repeatedly. Then finally, you decide to crawl up on the couch and be miserable with your cold, because Moms do not get the day off.