By Nicole Hardy of She Emerges
Dear my beloved children,
I’m sorry it’s come to this, but you’ve given me no choice other than to hold myself hostage. After a week of intense feuding stemmed from your blatant inconsideration, defiant rants, and selfish behavior, I have decided to take drastic measures. If you wish to see my face again, you must meet my unwavering demands in return for my sanity. Please deliver ALL TWELVE requests in full, and I will return home as if nothing happened. And remember, you are sinking ship without me, so do us both a favor and comply with the following:
(Note: there are also specific consequences included.)
1. Eat what I serve you for dinner. Period. If I slave over the stove, cooking another hot meal that rots away in your dish, I will change your flight from your school field trip to Washington D.C. to a third world country for a lesson of a lifetime.
2. Bath time is bath time; I don’t have any other words to describe it. Please don’t make me remind you or I very well might drown myself. (Thus leaving you without me to care for you, again.)
3. Stealing from your parents at any age (yes, including three years old) is considered a crime. Give me back all my damn pens, lip gloss, credit cards, shoes, bras and tampons that you’ve pocketed or I will go ballistic on your ass.
4. Do not, I REPEAT, do not let me find another cup of spoiled milk and a half-eaten, moldy turkey sandwich in the corner of your bedroom or I will unleash a juicy roach in your bed and equally make your skin crawl.
5. Spray your hair EVERY SINGLE MORNING with (one of the 400 bottles of) Lice Spray I bought from Costco so our heads and homes are not infested with those disgusting, super-resistant, hyper-populating beasts. I would hate to send you to school looking like Sinead O’Connor in the 5th grade.
6. Stop jumping on the couch. There is not enough wine in the fridge, bar and cabinets to alleviate my anxiety from you potentially busting your forehead on the end table. Notice I didn’t say coffee table because I already sold it on Craig’s List.
7. Stop interrupting. Stop interrupting. Stop interrupting. Did you hear me or were you interrupting? Stop interrupting so I can share a full sentence with the man I once knew fourteen years ago who impregnated me with sperm to create you.
8. Close the door behind you. Do NOT slam the door, close it (softly.) If I have to smash another disease-carrying mosquito flying indoors, looking for the only host with Type A blood (AKA, this unlucky victim) I may lock you out.
9. I know this concept is hard for you to grasp so I will put it in simple terms: “Negotiations are for adults ONLY…because I said so.”
10. Washing your hands after you go potty is not optional. Neither is brushing your teeth (at least) twice a day. So wash and brush away!
11. Follow instructions the first time around, or I am sending you to boarding school.
12. And by the way, I don’t care what your friends do. So stop telling me. If they lived here with us, they’d be doing the same thing as you. If you want to move in with them, you’ll quickly learn you’ve traded in a damn good life for an extra hour of mind-numbing TV.
Love, Mom
P.S. Hope to see ya soon!
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About the Author
My name is Nicole Hardy and I am a 40ish-year-old mom of two, obsessed with coffee, my children and my hair. After 14 years in Corporate America, I’ve ditched my cubicle for my calling, and launched my blog: She Emerges. I’m finding myself, feeding my soul, and baby I’m emerging! Follow Nicole on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.