In my mind, I’m the kind of assertive woman that speaks her mind. I’m a good role model for my children and will always stand up for myself, especially in front of them. I ain’t afraid of nobody and will tell them what’s up with all the confidence in the world. In reality? I’m just a really tired lady that thinks of witty comebacks about 45 minutes too late. So instead of telling all of these people what I really think of them in the moment – I’ll just leave these open letters here, and dream of the day they become viral and all the people that need to read them get the message.
Dear Lady at Swim Lesson,
Yes, my three year old straight up took my coffee and is drinking it. She likes it, okay? And I’m trying to get my four year old in the pool and keep my one year old out of it. The way I see it, that cup of coffee is doing me a favor by entertaining the three year old. So rather than stare at me like you’re debating if you should call Child Protective Services, you could, I don’t know HELP. Or stand there and judge me, that’s cool too.
Dear Mom at the Park,
Yes, my one year old is a bit of a daredevil, and I can tell that’s really stressing you out. But this is a park. Made for small children. So no, I’m not going to hover over her just in case she falls six inches. Into sand. I can tell you want me to. Hell, I can tell you want to. But please know I’m not being lazy. This is actually a parenting decision that I’ve made with thought and purpose. My other two kids survived toddlerhood and I’m pretty sure this one will too.
Dear Grandma at Chick-fil-A,
Look, I think it’s absolutely lovely that you decided to bring your one perfect grandchild to lunch. And I’m sorry that you have to share play space with my pack of hooligans. Turns out, it’s a play area. A little light climbing on the climbing structure and sliding down slides isn’t going to kill anyone. I promise your granddaughter is going to survive all the fun that’s being had in here. So grab a refill on your iced tea, and sit a spell. Chill out. We’re all gonna be just fine.
Dear Teenage Target Employee,
Yes, my son fell off the cart he was attempting to climb, and when I picked him up I said, “awww, buddy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” as he screamed his head off. No, the “I’m sorry,” was not some sort of admission of guilt, so no, you don’t need to ask your teenage co-worker, “dude, did that lady just drop her baby? Do we need to, like, tell someone?” Kids get hurt. Moms say things to make them feel better. No paperwork needs to be filed and no authorities need to be called. But thanks for the shade and accusations, dude.
Dear People That Drive By My House,
The ones that slow down and honk, the ones that come to a complete stop and lecture me, and the ones that just yell what a terrible parent I am as they drive by. I’m talking to all of you and letting you know that you suck. I have three little kids and a thousand carseats, so I need get two of my kids in the car on the street side. Apparently this is the worst thing I could ever do. Except they don’t run in the street, they don’t cross the bike lane line, and they walk calmly to get into the car. Basically, I laud their responsible car loading as my biggest parenting achievement. So I really don’t see what your huge complaint is. We live in a residential neighborhood and I don’t have a driveway – so where exactly WOULD you like me to load my kids into the car? How about you drive the speed limit and worry about yourself instead of yelling at me for being completely safe and cautious? Better yet, stop driving down my street and leave me alone.
Dear Waiter Who Clearly Doesn’t Have Kids,
Just bring us a never ending supply of biscuits until our food gets here and no one gets hurt.
Dear Lady in the Car in Front of me at Starbucks,
Bless your heart for making it this long without going to a coffee shop! But please – the drive through is NOT the place to ask for a lesson on the difference between a machiatto and a cappuccino. If you have one thousand questions, for the love of God, just go inside!! I’m sitting back here with three screaming kids and the world’s largest coffee craving. Just order something – anything – and drive along.
Who do you need to send a letter to? Add it in the comments!
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