Thursday, 1 August 2013

Signed, Sealed, Undelivered

Mamma's Imaginary July Correspondence

Dear postman,

do you think it would be too much to ask that you place my parcels discretely by the front door rather than launching them across the lawn? Perhaps you are in training for the discus event at the next Olympic Games in which case I wish you all the very best, but would you mind so very much not practicing on my packages? Not only does it rattle the contents dangerously, it also makes the entire house shudder when they collide with the front door screen. Regrettably, this also tends to coincide with the moment I have just managed to get my daughter to go to sleep. 

Might I also request that you place my letters in their designated destination: that is, the letterbox. As I am sure you are aware, it's winter at the moment and that inevitably means rain. When my letters are scattered on the ground around the letterbox they get wet. Funny that. 

I look forward to seeing an immediate improvement in the above-mentioned areas.

Dear Nameless Noisy Toy,

I am writing to request that you ask your manufacturers to add an OFF switch to you. I can understand that you are a very nice toy from my daughter's point of view, but I am afraid that if I accidentally stand or sit on you one more time and have to hear you play Old McDonald had a Farm one more time, just one, that I might just have a nervous breakdown.




Dear Lillian Moller Gilbreth,

I have just finished reading Cheaper by the Dozen, the book two of your twelve children wrote about their experiences growing up in the Gilbreth family. It is one of the best non-fiction books I have ever read. I wish you were still alive so that you could write a blog and I could read about all this from your point of view. I can't believe you managed to be such a successful psychologist and industrial engineer whilst bringing up a dozen children. I only have two children and work less than 5 hours a week outside of the home. I think I need you to do a time-motion study on my life to help me work out how to write a blog and get my housework done. My organisation skills are obviously lacking because there never seems to be time for both and I think you can guess which one I prefer!



(you can read my review of Cheaper by the Dozen here). 


Dear ants who live in my pantry,

please feel free to vacate the premises. There really is no need for you to stay now as I have moved the honey to the fridge and have eaten all the chocolate. 

Dear possum who lives in my roof,

I regret to inform you that you have overstayed your welcome. Your presence is no longer novel, nor is it cute. I have enough reasons to be woken up in the middle of the night as it is without your help. If, in the future, I find myself in a situation where I do need to be woken up several times a night, I will know who to call.

Dear Other Half,  

I appreciate that you have to get up at Stupid O'clock to go to work in the morning and that that is not much fun for you. Do you think, however, that you could at least try to achieve this without banging every door in the house several times over and waking every other sleeping member of the household? Could you also at least try to remember everything you need to take to work before you slam the front door the first time so that you don't have to make multiple trips in and out of the house banging and re-banging it repeatedly?? How is it that you are always surprised that I am grumpy when you come home from work? You really are very good at being genuinely astonished when I tell you that you made so much noise you woke the whole house. Darling, I am being kind when I say that: you actually made so much noise you woke the whole street.

Dear me,

seven months of the year gone already! My my. Your baby is now almost 5 months old. That is such a lovely age, but unfortunately for you, it means she is no longer a newborn anymore. Actually, she hasn't been one for quite some time, meaning it is no longer acceptable for you to use the excuse that you've "just had a baby" as a means of justifying your lack of exercise. Walking to the letterbox to collect the mail will no longer suffice as sufficient daily exercise I'm afraid. It's time to actually get out of your ugg boots and go for a real walk. I know it's scary, but I genuinely believe you can do it if you really try. It will also be good for your mental health and, no offence, but you do need all the help you can get in that department!


That's all for now,


Goodbye July.