An Open Letter of Apology

Sometimes, I feel totally overwhelmed. Sometimes, I feel like I am failing, just failing. Sometimes, my house is messy, my kids are out of control, my to do list has become so long that it is now a mobius strip and is, literally, unending. Sometimes, I just don't know how to get ahead or even just catch up. So, until I figure that out I am going to make myself feel better by issuing apologies for the things that I should or should not have done. Maybe if I can just get some things off my chest, I'll feel better. So, uh, here goes:

To the plants in my garden: I am sorry that I did not nurture you properly. I'm not sure if you need more fertilizer or if you just needed better soil, or if you need counseling but apparently I have raised you with a fear of having a family. I promise your children will not be as difficult to manage as my children. You've already put down roots, like physical roots, so it would be okay, really, to bear some fruit. Don't be afraid to make the commitment. I'm sorry if I haven't been supportive enough. I am also sorry if I did not express enough appreciation for the one radish and handful of basil you have produced so far.

To the random man at Walmart: I am sorry. Just really sorry. I had no idea that when my son walked in the general direction of your cart that he was planning to stop and purposefully sneeze all over you and your food. If you would like copies of his medical records to prove that he does not have any communicable diseases I would be happy to provide them. It was just seasonal allergies. Besides, you'll have to cook all of that sausage anyway and any germs should be killed in the cooking process. Frankly, if you are planning to eat all of that sausage yourself then that the sneeze is the least of your health problems, but it still was very very wrong of him to do that. I have had a long talk with him and I am hopeful that there will be no more sausage-sneezing in the future...... maybe. Your look of disgust was, unfortunately, a big incentive for him to do it again.

To Tobias: I am sorry that I took too long to prepare lunch for you and that your hunger drove you to bite through an entire stack of tortillas... while they were still in the package. I am grateful that none of your brothers noticed the little bite marks out of each quesadilla that I served them. I will try to cook faster next time.

To my neighbors: I am sorry for the screams issuing from my house. We are not filming a horror-movie, nor am I abusing my children. Please do not call CPS. I am just cutting their hair.

To Elijah: I am sorry for ruining your life by cutting your hair. I realize it was your ambition to grow up to be a rockstar/fringe spiritual leader/hippie/the next Samson/hairstylist and I have likely destroyed your dreams at the tender age of 6. I understand, completely, why you feel you must scream as though your very soul were being ripped from your body when, in fact, I am just removing some dead cells. So sorry.

To the random Walmart employee: I am sorry for the doing a double take in your direction the other day. I know it was terribly rude of me and that you might have felt embarrassed when the five little boys in, under and hanging-off of my shopping cart also looked. It was just that you were wearing extremely tight leggings that matched your skin tone EXACTLY and it took my brain a moment to process what I was seeing. I apologize. I cast my eyes down in shame, also to avoid seeing what I thought was a half-naked person.

To David John: I am sorry for failing to have appropriate supplies for your sea monkeys. It broke my heart to hear your conversation with your brother:
D: Sea monkeys do not have birthdays because they are sea creatures and sea creatures are not borned they just grow.
E: But they hatch out of eggs. When they hatch out that is like their birthday.
D: Yes, but sea monkey still cannot have birthdays because you can't put a party-hat on a sea monkey.
I should have anticipated this and found a supplier for sea monkey party hats. I know you were feeling bad for your sea monkeys' lack of birthdays.

To my readers: I am sorry for the lackluster state of the blog this summer. I have been searching for the cause of the drop in quantity and quality and have a working theory involving potty-training, accidents and bleach. In the last two days alone I have sat in, slipped on, and waded through bodily fluids. This, combined with the fumes from the clorox wipes and intense cleaning sprays has caused a semi-permanent cloud of chemicals through which coherent thoughts cannot traverse. I am sorry, so sorry.