A letter to my darling children

Dear Children o Mine,

In the car a few days back I wrote the following in my journal:

There have been times over the last days where I have felt more connected to my family than I have in years.  There are no screens (although the kids are often listening to stories on their iPods).  We are physically close.  We are all seeing the things out our windows for the first time.  We talk about how the country and traveling and how seeing new things makes us feel.  We joke about trip snafus, talk about what we are looking forward to about getting home, about meeting Zeni's birth family, about poverty and biology and volcanoes and Bugs Bunny.

Wasn't that lovely.

Not so much today.  Today you are driving me up the fucking wall.  I am sick of being in small hotel rooms with  you.  I am sick of hearing your whiney, nattering little voices last thing before I fall asleep and first thing when I wake up.  I am sick of how your small, sweaty bodies feel pressed next to me in the car.  

Hayden, I am sick of you coughing all the time, even if it is because the air here exacerbates your asthma.  Just have your damn asthma attacking quietly and QUIT CLEARING YOUR THROAT!  And while your at it, stop asking if you can "have" every wild animal we see, stop taking MY iPad into the bathroom and STOP being the largest, loudest, whitest child in every room we enter.

Zeni,  if you ask me to write you another math problem on a napkin I am going to wad said napkin up and stuff it in your mouth.  I no longer want to nurture your love of math or work out equations.  Maybe you could take up silent meditation?  Additionally, FUCKING STOP kicking your brother under the table at every meal and shrieking "you're hurting me!" Every time I insist that you hold my hand in public so we don't get separated.

Additionally and finally, please stop having any needs that are inconsistent with my desires.

Sincerely,

Your mother