So let me clarify my statement to you--Erin, Jack and even Mary Beth.
On January 13, 2013, you did not, in fact, suck.
You SUCKED more than anyone could ever imagine someone SUCKING. You SUCKED to the highest degree. If there was a world championship for SUCKING, you would have SUCKING won. The Guinness Book of World Records called and said they wanted to include you in their book for SUCKING the most.
How about an explanation? This year the WORST flu season has hit early. And even those who do not have the flu – you kids included – are getting this SUCKY flu-like illness that is SUCKING the lives out of people. So last week you, Mary Beth, stayed home for 3 days because of this SUCKINESS. At the same time, your Daddy was in bed for a few days and even went to a doctor (gasp!). And you twins, well, you took it to a new level. High fever. Like so high I was going to take you to the emergency room if it didn’t go down the next time I took your temperature. Stuffed up nose. Runny nose. Horrible cough that made you cry every time you coughed. Ear tugging. Incredible fussiness. Refusal to go to bed. Refusal to stop crying. And refusal to do all of these horrible things at the same time – oh no, you twins rotated. Erin cried on Sunday night from 7 to 920. Then passed out. Then Jack started at 930 until about 1115 when your Daddy put you down in the crib and said “Cry it out, son. We’re done.” You cried for another 40 minutes and then passed out. But then both of you woke and cried throughout the night.
YES. YOU SUCKED.
But that doesn’t mean we don’t love you. We just didn’t like you at that moment. I’m not sure it is humanly possible for anyone to have liked you at that moment. Mother Theresa couldn’t have liked you and she was a freaking saint. But the point is, why are parents, especially moms, supposed to pretend that we like our children at every given moment?
Kids, it just doesn’t happen. SPOILER ALERT: being a mom is HARD work. I’m literally providing food to you daily, which requires me to burn an extra 2,000+ calories but not get any of the rest needed. And somehow I’m supposed to do this but still have time to work full-time so we can provide food, shelter, etc. to you. You wake in the middle of the night and I have to race into your room to see if you’re OK, hurt, hungry, annoyed, etc., and that you don’t cry enough to wake up your brother/sister. I have to watch what I eat and drink so I don’t pass any spices, gas or alcohol (don’t I wish) to you. I have to carry you two everywhere in carseats that are starting to weigh a ton – which means Momma needs a massage. Or seven. And before you ask – YES. Your father helps. He helps more than a lot of fathers do. But it’s still me who has the intuition to protect and comfort you, and I’m still the one you go to when you don’t feel well or stub your toe or want some love.
Now, if all you heard in your life was that you SUCKED, then I could see being upset with me. But kids, by the time you’re old enough to read this, and I’m sure you will, reading YOU SUCKED is not the first smartass comment you’re going to have read. Pretty sure it’s a prerequisite to be a part of this family that you’re a smartass. At least on my side of the family it was. You didn’t get to meet either of my parents, your maternal grandparents, because they were already gone from this earth before you were born. But just as a peek into my smartass life, my dad used to say that I was his second-favorite redhead kid. Yes. Think about it. Look at Auntie Kim and Uncle Rob. That’s right, I’m the ONLY redhead. I spent my childhood hearing stuff like that, and all it did was prepare me for the real world. When I got into school and someone picked on me for having red hair (hard to believe in our family, I know), well, it didn’t bother me. Carrot top? A carrot’s top is green, not red. That’s the best ya got?
I grew up in a family where I was told I could do anything if I put my mind to it. Good grades. Good schools. Good athletics. Good whatever I wanted. I was praised for doing well and encouraged when I felt I was faltering. My parents were always there for me. And let’s get something straight here, too. I often didn’t like them! They SUCKED too! How dare they not let me go to a party where the parents weren’t there? Why couldn’t I go to a slumber party the night before a big soccer tournament? I wanted to spend the night at a friend’s house and they said NO?! How rude! See, it goes both ways.
So no, I did not like you this weekend. You were horrible to the nth degree. And I’m so glad you’re starting to get physically better. Because Mary Beth, you crack me up and can make me feel better all the time. Jack, your smile lights up a room (you big flirt!). And Erin, oh darling you are strikingly gorgeous and smart as a whip. I can’t wait to see what you all are going to be like when you grow up.
Now stop SUCKING.
Love, Mom
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