As much as I love you, my dear family members, here are some things I want you to know. You have possibly not heard them before because……
I am too polite.
I was raised to be accommodating.
It’s my job to make everybody happy.
You weren’t listening anyway.
It’s just easier to do it myself!
However, please memorize the following:
I am not a GPS system designed to locate your iPhone, glasses, the television remote, or whatever else you may have misplaced in the last 10 minutes.
I’m not sure what you can eat for lunch. I presume food, but what do I know?
Dishes normally do not fill the sink with soapy water, jump in and wash themselves.
My name is not “somebody,” as in “Somebody needs to take out the garbage.”
It is not my responsibility to identify the takeout you saved in the refrigerator, that now smells like the back end of a mule. It really isn’t my responsibility to take it out of the refrigerator and get rid of it, either. I just do it because if I don’t there will soon be a whole pack of mules back there.
I am sure our marriage vows did not include never letting you forget anything important, because if they had, I would have forgotten to agree to it.
I do not know why “my” son or daughter do stupid things, but “our” children are so amazing!
It is really not okay to wipe up the kitchen floor with the dish sponge.
Even though my pocketbook is large, it is not my responsibility to carry things. All of you are strong enough to carry your own stuff. (I would have used another word beginning with “s,” but this is a G-rated post.) If you don’t want to carry it, you don’t really want it!
I do appreciate you all doing your own laundry, but probably I did not sufficiently explain a few related concepts:
Putting dirty clothes in the washing machine implies that you are going to wash them. It is not your personal clothes hamper. When the dryer has finished, the clothes actually need to be folded and put away because a laundry basket on the bathroom floor is not your bureau either.
I’m sorry to say, but the upset stomach you have as a result of eating a half dozen cookies, a pint of ice cream and half a bag of potato chips is not the same as labor pains, kidney stones or a ruptured disc!
I swear that I fully support a person’s right to privacy, and since you are all over 21 not everything you do is my business. But when you leave your bills, bank statements, love letters or iPhone open to Facebook on the kitchen counter, all bets are off.
My friends in the blogging community probably have many more ideas to contribute. If so, I would love to hear them.
©Martha Hurwitz, 8/31/17