This is a note to let you all know that I have run away from home. I wouldn’t bother you by leaving the note, but I figured when night came and no food was put in front of you, you might notice my absence. Please understand that it’s not personal, it’s just I am tired of being the middle parent, I am striking out on my own to find my identity or at least to find out where my I.D. card is.
I am not accusing anyone of anything nor am I trying to lay guilt on family members for actions, but I am sick of having children get off the school bus, hurl backpacks and sweaters at me, then look me directly in the eye to inquire, “Is anyone here?” When I say that I am here, I get an eye roll and the response, “Yeah, I meant anyone fun!” Let’s face it, I am just not up to the standards you all require of me. Whatever I cook for food, someone doesn’t like it, someone else had it for lunch and the third person throws up before even trying it. I wash and dry clothing, put it away and someone will wear four different outfits in the space of an hour. Somehow at least two out of the three of you will tear, rip or permanently stain at least one article of clothing per day. All I can surmise from this is that both of you kids go to schools that have attack weasels in the recess yard that you must fight every day for exercise, and Chris, on your way to work every morning you must hit a deer!
I am not a maid. When I have stated this the response I receive from my loving daughter is, “You are the mom, it’s the same thing!”
I am not wait staff. When I have stated this the response I receive from my beloved son is, “Then why did you have kids?”
Furthermore, I am sick of being nagged at. I don’t want to be lectured because I play my music too loud or because you don’t like it. No matter how I wear my hair or what color I make it, it’s never right. Even when I dress like all the other mothers do, somehow it’s too baggy, too tight, too old, or too young.
If I kiss or hug you in public, its embarrassing. Yet, every five seconds I must give you attention or you think I don’t love you. I am not allowed to use my own phone, television, computer or couch, unless its okay with you. Nothing that I have seems to belong to me either. My good chocolate is found and eaten, only wrappers left, my hair clips are being worn by Barbie dolls, my hair elastics are used by Chris for his ponytail, my books are scanned by Mark for the dirty or scary parts and even my bra was found in the yard doing catapult service!
It is high time that I shared some painful truths with all of you. There is no Cleaning Elf! There is no Food Fairy! There is no Laundry Wand! You may not believe this now, but when you are all wandering naked, hungry and stuck to the floors, perhaps you will remember me more kindly.
Goodbye Forever (or until my Dunkin Donuts extra-large coffee is done),