You are such a big girl. And you are way ahead of where you are supposed to be developmentally. But I didn't know that you were old enough to steal the home phone and dial 911 this morning. This is WAY too advanced.
And I'm glad that after a week of sleepless nights with you, your first tooth finally came in and you're feeling better. Again, ahead of where you're supposed to be, at least ahead of your sister. She didn't get her first tooth until she was almost 15 months old.
Last night you threw up all night long, poor girl. The next time you think you want a bite of spicy Thai food, turn and run the other way. And the next time your mom hesitantly says, "I think it's okay if she has a bite," turn and run the other way. In fact, every time you see me, turn and run the other way. I think it might work out for the best.
One more thing, I would appreciate it if you stopped calling every guy you see, "Daddy!!!!" It's starting to get a little awkward for all parties involved.
Dear Police Officer;
I'm sorry you had to come to my door today. And I'm sorry that the first thing I said to you was, "who died?" Thank you for smiling and saying, "I hope no one. Is everything okay? We got a hang up 911 call from this number." And thank you for not making a point of my beet red face. And thank you for saying this sort of thing happens all the time. And thank you for believing me when I said it was my 8-month old that dialed 911, because it really is the truth.
And I'm sorry that my 19-month old ran up to the door and yelled, "Daddy!!!!" I realize it was a little embarrassing for us all.
I'm sorry that I air all of our dirty laundry on this blog. Literally and figuratively. I'm sorry if I'm a little crazy because I haven't really slept in over a week. I'm sorry that a police officer was called to our house today, and I'm sorry that our daughter called him "Daddy!!!!" I think it's pretty obvious that they are yours.
I totally understand if my ineptness in mothering as of late makes you feel the need to hire nannies. You can even hire four nannies like that lady off of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. And I'm sorry that I watch that show... especially sorry for the Atlanta one. But back to the nannies.... I would hate it* if you hired one, or four, because I'm opposed* to the sort of thing. But if you need me to send out an ad, I will hate* every second of it, but I'll send that out right away.
Are You There God? It's Me, Morgandi. Thank you for the book about Margaret. It really helped me through those awkward pre-teen years. But I need another book. One for moms, and their changing bodies, and emotions, and daily dealings with their children. I need a book that I can hide under my pillow, and pull out at night when I know that no one is watching. A book that will make me feel not so alone. A book that lets me know that EVERY mother goes through this sort of thing. And since you're the writer of books...really, really life-altering, best selling books (or The Book)....could just help me out with this one?
Don't ever assume that just because your 8-month old is feeling better, that your 19-month old won't puke all night long, thus; not allowing you that night's sleep you assumed you'd get. In fact, quit assuming that you'll ever sleep again. Maybe, just quit assuming.
And don't let your husband convince you that Thai food can be consumed by your toddler without making her puke.
And don't forget to keep the phone out of your childrens' reach. Apparently they know how to dial 911.
And don't wear a red shirt ever again. Because every time you wear a red shirt like you did today, you get embarrassed, and your face turns red. And you know what people are thinking. "Her face is as red as her shirt." And this will make you feel like you're dying inside.
And don't greet police officers at the door with, "who died?" Let the man (or woman) speak.
And teach your daughter not to say "Daddy!!!!" to every guy she sees.
And quit writing really long posts on your blog. Learn to edit.
And I think you should just end this post now, because it's headed nowhere fast.
Thank you, and good night!!
**Update-- Stella just started puking. So apparently it wasn't the Thai food. Unless someone snuck her some Thai food. And I know it wasn't me. I think. Oy.