Open letter to my children (Possibly exaggerated to prove a point)

By Stacy Johnson

Dear sweet, special children of mine, (except the baby who doesn't know any better),

When you got home from school and I asked you to finish up your chores that didn't get done this morning, told you to sit down and do your homework, and reminded you to go to piano lessons, you gave me "that" look again. You know what look I'm talking about. The one that says, "but what did YOU do all day?" I'd like to share with you all I did today so you don't think I sat around and watched Little House on the Prairie all day and drank my diet pepsi.

I woke about 3am to feed the baby. When I couldn't go back to sleep, I read from the Ensign and my scriptures, then worked on some homework for my class at ASU. I feel asleep for about 45 minutes then woke all of you up for the day. I read scriptures with you while I nursed the baby again, served you your breakfast (with groceries I purchased earlier in the week), asked you to pack your lunches (with homemade bread, I might add), and reminded you to grab your poster for the science project due today. I did the little girl's hair, helped you change your newly pierced earrings, and encouraged you to do your morning chores. I told you to get dressed (in clothes that I purchased, washed, dried, sorted, folded, and took to your room for you to put away. Had you put them away, they wouldn't be so wrinkly.) I kissed each of you, told you I loved you and sent you to school.

I put the baby down for her nap. I vacuumed the family room, swept the kitchen, rinsed the breakfast dishes, and wiped off the table. I straightened up the playroom and vauumed it. I stopped what I was doing to run your library book to you at school. At this point, I did sit down and drink a diet pepsi for about 30 minutes while I listened to my sweet visiting teachers give me a message on the divine role of motherhood.(Not really, but that would have been the icing on the cake, wouldn't it have?) After they left, I ate my breakfast. I made a phone call about your softball team, the one I am coaching with your dad. I threw in a load of laundry, folded a load, and hung up all the clean towels. I picked up the mess in the little bathroom and then my nephews came over so I could babysit while my sister when to my mom's house to help unpack from the move.

I made lunch for us AND cleaned it up when I was done. I changed three diapers, washed my hands, fed the baby her lunch and nursed her...AGAIN. I straightened the girls room and played with all the little ones as I worked.

I did spend some time checking on my friends (I facebooked and blogged for about 30 minutes). I made a few phone calls about ward choir, youth choir, scout campout, high school reunion, and girls camp. I read Dr. Suess for about 20 minutes. I got dressed just before you got home from school.

I cut up some apples for your after school snack and helped you do your homework, I took your shoes to you at volleyball practice. I drove you to your baseball practice, participated in your music class, and reminded you to go to activity days. I coached your softball team.

I made dinner and fed the baby some cereal while eating my own meal. I led the cheers from the Cheer box at pack meeting and then went to mutual to work with the youth choir. While you watched t.v., I finished up my homework. I gave you a bath, reminded others of you to take showers, I brushed your hair, read you a story, and put you to bed.

I finished up the dishes, re-swept the floor, started the dishwasher, started the washer, went for a run. Took a shower, put away some of my laundry (so I could climb into my own bed) and promptly fell asleep. Then, I dreamed about you.

So, as you can see, my life isn't all about me, it is all about you. You'll please forgive me when I forget things, constantly remind you to do YOUR chores, and ask you to make YOUR bed. You'll turn the other cheek when I get frustrated and lose my temper and start to cry. You'll forgive me when I can't come to your class and volunteer like the cool moms or when I can't buy you candy from the ice cream man every day cause it isn't in the budget. I'm a stay home mom, I don't have time for a "real" job. You'll thank me when my book on parenting becomes a best seller and we are rich enough to take you all out to dinner at a sit down restaurant.

I know someday you'll understand this, someday when you have a family of your own. My daughters should understand as they become mothers and if my sons don't, well, I'll let their wives write their own letters.

All my love, Mom