An open note to my children (to be read every January)

Dearest children,

I probably owe you an apology. I do not like January. This stems in part from my deep-seeded disdain for cold weather.

I love Christmas time. But when it’s over, it’s all downhill for a little while.

I’m sorry this means there must be a significant decline in presents, vacation days, and festivities in general.
I’m sorry this means we have to return to routines like chores and homework and early bedtimes.
I’m sorry this means the period of un-rationed goodies is over (unless you’re me).

Another reason I don’t like January is we always get sick in January. Right now I can only breathe out of one nostril. During this past week alone, our house has been graced with coughing, fever, vomit, diarrhea, croup, congestion, and oh, another urinary tract infection.

Dirty dishes and dirty laundry piles sit a little longer in January. You may want to get used to me saying things like, “Who wants to make macaroni and cheese for dinner tonight?”

While some moms see January as an opportunity to rekindle their love affair with the gym, your mom sees January as an opportunity to eat Toaster Strudels and Reese’s peanut butter cups for lunch.

I just want to reassure you that I still love you. I wish I had any desire to play Princess Chutes and Ladders with you, but I don’t. I’m afraid that January is the one month out of the year that if you want to spend quality time with your mother, you probably need to start reading Pride & Prejudice, or take a sudden interest in Latin music, or save up your allowance for a trip to Europe or a warm location of your choice (or even better, my choice.).

I have no idea why you were so lucky to be born into my care, but I promise I’ll try harder to wade my way through January and be the kind of mom you deserve.  Remember that I’m a pretty rockin’ mom in the summertime.

Feel free to print out this picture and tape it on a Popsicle stick and wave it in my face as needed.

When you do, I will try really hard to count to ten in my brain and get over it.

Much love,

Your mother

P.S. Your dad is a rock star in January because he steps it up a lot, and he’s not nearly as irritable as I am.  I love him all year, but especially in January.

P.P.S.  I’m really not as pathetic as this letter makes me sound.  I do plenty of good stuff in January too.  Let’s just say that the ratio of good stuff is a little more sparse than usual, and I’m keenly aware of it.

P.P.P.S.  Would it be presumptuous of me to alter President Monson’s quote to say “Courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, ‘I’ll try again tomorrow [next month]'”?

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Ode to winter (time for a poetry contest), and a teensy bit of whining

I will now relate to you just a few of the events in our family in the last 48 hours.  Pretend you care.

Coughing

Snot

Fever

Waking at night

Lab visit

Strep Test

Antibiotic

Urinalysis

Another Strep test

Carbon Monoxide alarm going off

Evacuate house for hour

No notable danger

More fever

Bubble Gum Motrin

Bubble Gum Yum Tylenol

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Doctor visit

Blood test

Chest x-rays

Stomach x-rays

H1N1 test

Urology referral

Another antibiotic

Make cake

Grant’s birthday

Antibiotic battles

More sore throat

Two peed beds

Doctor visit

Strep test

ANOTHER antibiotic

The end.

Kill me now.

So, out of necessity and the spirit of survival, I will now change the subject.  I think it’s time for the Diapers and Divinity Winter poetry contest.  The winner gets a spotlight on my blog sidebar for the rest of winter AND this lovely crown:

Let’s do an ode this time, shall we?  An ode is “A kind of poem devoted to the praise of a person, animal, or thing. An ode is usually written in an elevated style and often expresses deep feeling. An example is “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” by John Keats.”  (Thanks, dictionary.com.)  We’ll be much less formal here, and modify the ode rules.  Pick something or someone to praise (Anything related to winter) and write a poem about or to it/him/her.  Can rhyme, doesn’t have to.  Can be serious or sarcastic.

I’ll cough up two here as examples:

Ode to my fireplace

In the midst of painful winter, wise birds have flown away.

Yet, we foolishly remain.

Thou art my only consolation.

Thy gentle warm breezes and intoxicating flames dance about,

and I rest by your side.  Waiting, Waiting.

Come Spring I’ll bid thee farewell.

Or given my current list of whining:

Ode to Antibiotics (Did I say I was going to change the subject?)

(in the form of a limerick.)

Winter affects us a lot.
There’s pressure, and coughing, and snot.
Write the doctor some checks.
Go pick up the Rx.
Enjoy 10 healthy days that you’ve bought.

My favorite part of antibiotics is “Take with food.”  I’m pretty sure they mean this:


Can’t wait until my next dose.

We’ll let the contest run for several days.  Leave your poem(s) — as many as you want to write– in the comments on this post by midnight the night of Tues., Jan. 19th.  I’ll pick my favorites and then we’ll vote together on a winner.

I think I need a nap.