Hello! I hope you remember me—the one who brought those peanut cookies to the holiday gathering, almost causing a mini-crisis for two of your students. You were quick to act, swooping in to save the day by whisking away the cookies just before they could take a bite. I still appreciate how you had an alternative snack ready to go, all while helping me breathe normally again.
I’m reaching out to clarify a few things about my daughter and our chaotic mornings. There are days when I want to attach a note detailing why her shirt is stained or why she looks like she just rolled out of bed. Unfortunately, if I had the time to write those notes, I wouldn’t be rushing out the door with jelly on her face and clothes that could attract flies in your classroom. So, here it goes:
I haven’t always been quite this disorganized. Once, I had my life together. I used to wonder how parents could let their kids look so wild in public, with hair that resembled a bird’s nest. I thought parenting would be straightforward. But then came my kids.
Getting myself and my three little tornadoes out the door each morning is akin to a scene from a dramatic series—raw emotions, a bit of cursing, and the occasional meltdown. After I finally manage to squeeze into my Spanx, I tackle the kids.
I start with the best intentions, suggesting the matching outfits I picked out the night before, which we had all agreed on. But every single piece of clothing seems to be a disaster waiting to happen—pants causing wedgies and shirts with tags that feel like they’ve been dipped in poison. Suddenly, the clock speeds up, and we find ourselves in a heap of tears, with shoes left outside in the rain.
“Are you at least wearing underwear?” I yell as we dash out the door, late again. “You need that barrier between you and the world!” I count it as a small victory if she manages breakfast in the car. The jelly on her cheek? Just a detail in our morning madness.
“Hey, did you mean to brush my teeth with toothpaste?” she asks as she slams the van door and rushes inside.
I know her appearance reflects on me, and I can only imagine what you think of our household. While I’ve seen her shine at birthday parties and field trips, I’m aware that the energy she brings to your classroom is just a slice of the chaos we experience at home.
I want to assure you that we don’t engage in fart competitions, and we certainly don’t raise our legs like dogs when we let one slip. We don’t double dip or hurl insults like “toilet diaper poop” when we’re angry. Our family has never sat around the dinner table pretending to be walruses with pretzel sticks.
Rest assured, despite what she might say, I do feed her. My kids view vegetables as a personal affront, and I often face their wrath when I dare to serve broccoli.
So, thank you. Thank you for your understanding and support. I appreciate you not judging my parenting skills when I brought those peanut cookies. Thank you for reminding her that tissues are essential and for ensuring she has a drink at lunch on days I forget. I notice the jelly is gone when she returns home.
I promise I’m doing my best. I may be a frazzled mom now, but one day we’ll find our rhythm. Each morning, as I drop her off, I take a deep breath and remind myself, “This might be a mess, but I’m sure you’ve seen worse.”
If you’re interested in more relatable parenting experiences, check out our post about managing chaos in family life here. And if anyone you know is considering the journey of at-home insemination, I’ve found that Make A Mom offers reliable kits for the process. For more information on what to expect during your first IUI, you can visit this excellent resource here.
In summary, parenting can be chaotic, but I’m grateful for your patience and support. Together, we’re navigating this wild ride.
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