'The honest letter I wish I could send to my children. But won't.'

What every parent wants to say to their children. But doesn’t because we’re good f*cking parents:

Dear children,

Please stop talking.

Your voice is annoying to me and I can’t seem to ever please you. You’re like tiny angry dictators who makes poor choices we have to fix all the time, while you just move on with your life. So basically you’re Trump.

I try my hardest but all you care about is where the next chocolate milk is coming from or who just farted, and I quote “hehehehehe”.

I spend hours brushing your hair, tidying your room and losing at monopoly even though I’m the boss at Monopoly. Do you know what it means that I let you win at Monopoly? I must really f*cking like you. And then all you do is ask to go to your grandparents; constantly.

No, I don’t want to make your sandwich with the crusts cut off. You’re having cheese and all the salad. Did you hear me? All of the f*cking salad.

I will not remove one salad item per sandwich per child. I don’t care if one of you hates tomato or loathes lettuce. Just eat it.

I couldn’t think of anything worse than reading a sixth bedtime story. Fairytales are bullsh*t and were all going to die – some of us early, some of us later. True loves aren’t found and declared in a day and marriage is f*cking hard work.

Bet ya Rapunzel has some bloody princess blog somewhere that is all about how her prince husband doesn’t come home on Fridays after work… Where’s that in a Disney movie?

A post shared by Krechelle (@eightathome) on Oct 17, 2017 at 1:51am PDT

You’re not all bad, you do smell like some version of heaven right on the top of your head. Except for when you’ve done a massive poo from last night’s bolognese and then the whole house smells like some bad version of onion poo for our new friends coming over in six minutes. Thanks a lot, you asshole.

I know you like the word Mum. I used to like the word Mum too. But now I like the word “DAD”, say it with me now, “DAD”. It’s not hard. I’d say it might even be easier. I love being a mum so much. I love it even more when they’re calling out Dad at 3am.

You know what else? Stop jumping onto the couch just as I’ve sat down with my coffee. I don’t know why you insist on doing that. Or why half my clothes are covered in coffee stains. But it’s just ridiculous. I just want one quiet coffee alone that’s not at 4.45am or on my clothes.

And they say to “appreciate it” and don’t ever be “ungrateful”. I’m not. I promise I just haven’t showered today and I would really like to shower for a good 45 minutes, y’know, and really get into all those spots I’ve been missing for the last seven years. I’m fairly certain my bum is a jungle of hair. But I wouldn’t know because “ain’t nobody got time for dat”.

In closing, I would just like to say how much appreciate these soul-sucking little assholes. Especially for my empty tit bags. And unwashed places. You guys are my whole wide world. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And, well it’s not like I’ve got a choice.

This post originally appeared on Eight At Home and was republished here with full permission. To read more from Krechelle, click here.

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