Posted in Parenting and Random Shit

My Ransom Letter

Dear Family,

I am running away.  It’s not you, it’s me.

Okay, that is an outright lie.  It is not me, it is you.  I am not sure how long I will be gone.  Maybe an hour, maybe longer.  Really, I have decided that the answer to that all depends on you.  I am ransoming myself.

Here are my demands for the children:

  • If you look on the back of the toilet, you will notice this shiny handle.  This may come as a shock but that handle is NOT just decorative.  If you push down on it, the toilet water and anything you deposited within will swirl around the bowl and disappear down that hole at the bottom.  If you are going to drop the kids off at the pool, for the love of Pinot, flush the damn toilet!!  Just push that magic handle and it will all go away and then I won’t be forced to stifle my gag reflex every. single. time I walk into the bathroom.
  •   I know this is going to sound like crazy talk but I just want you to try to hear me out and give it a shot–stop treating the entire house like it is your personal trash can.  I am not sure if you guys just wouldn’t care if we lived in filth and squalor or if you are convinced that there is some magic maid fairy that follows you all around and picks up after you.  Whatever the case may be, you are wrong.  There is no magical force picking up the trail of shit you leave in your wake, it is me.  Even if you don’t, I do happen to wish to avoid living in a house that looks like it could appear on an episode of “Hoarders”.  CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELVES!
  • Stop expecting me to referee your arguments every 10 minutes.  I don’t give a rat’s ass if you were playing school and Sam isn’t doing his pretend homework assignment.  I could not care less if, in the course of pretending to camp, Macey put out the imaginary fire when you were roasting an invisible marshmallow.  You want to know how I am going to solve these issues?  I am going to send you to your rooms and drink mass quantities of wine.  It won’t solve your problem but it sure works as one hell of a band-aid for me.
  • Stop touching the television screen.  I am tired of cleaning peanut butter fingerprints off of the flat screen because Super Why asked you where the “super letters” were and you felt you had to touch them directly or else he wouldn’t know where you were pointing.  The next time I see you touch the television screen, I am going to take your arm off and beat you with the wet end.  Are we clear?
  • You are more than welcome to lift a finger and clean shit up without me telling you to do so.  Take a little initiative.
  • I don’t know where the confusion began but it is time to clear this up, your bedroom is limited to the four walls behind your door.  I did not allot any extra “spillover” space for you outside of your actual bedroom.  If your room becomes too cluttered because you have thrown all your laundry into a big pile, along with papers, art supplies, shoes, books, etc and have discovered that, as a result, you don’t have anywhere to put your backpack, more laundry, toys, etc, you do NOT have permission to extend the perimeter of your space to the hallway and/or living room.  Here is a novel idea:  CLEAN YOUR ROOM!!
  • Pushing things in your closet, does NOT constitute cleaning your room.

My demands for my husband:

  • Stop snoring.  At this point, I don’t care what it takes.  If they say that removing your left leg would solve the issue, you should go through with the procedure.  My happiness depends upon it and, as you know, your happiness is contingent upon my happiness.  I used to have a lot of fun holding your nose and watching you gasp for air after a few seconds but the novelty has worn off.  Fix it.
  • Stop putting shit on top of the refrigerator.  Seriously.  It is not your storage shelf.  You are more than welcome to put your keys and wallet in a drawer or in the bedroom.  Stop moving my decorations aside for these things and your loose change.  Just because I can’t reach it, it does not become acceptable.
  • I have pushed a baby out of my vagina and had two others (and another in the near future) surgically removed from my abdomen.  In return, I ask that you take out the trash when it is full without me asking.
  • Setting folded laundry on top of the dresser does not constitute putting laundry away.
  • You fold towels incorrectly.  Do it my way.  They should look almost like a terry cloth burrito, not a messy square.
    This is how towels look when folded correctly.

    This is how you fold them and it is wrong.
  • Maintain a constant inventory of Dr. Pepper and Nutella in our home.

If my demands are met, not only will I  come home but I won’t be such a bitch all the time.

Hope to see you soon.


I am a stay at home mother with 4 children. I drink a lot of wine and curse like a sailor.

18 thoughts on “My Ransom Letter

  1. Haha, another great post as usual. Glad I’m not the only one with the towel folding issue, dang, that makes me almost go postal. If your needs aren’t met, well, I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to Mexico.


  2. This is so funny – – except I have to call bullshit…Sorry, but it must be done. Anyone who knows and loves you is well aware that you are not in tune with your cleaning muse. Therefore, your offspring haven’t the foggiest notion of how to be tidy. I’m not knocking you. I love you ‘as is – no warranty.’ The obvious solution is that Matthew should work 3 jobs and hire you a slave/maid. If he has leftover cash, he could get me one too! (;


  3. Hey! I don’t claim to have OCD cleaning practices or expectations.. Truth be told, my expectations are pretty low, which is why it shouldn’t be that hard to meet them. If every one did the bare minimum, it would make my life a whole lot easier and, in turn, theirs. I am asking them to flush the toilet, to not throw their trash across the house and stop leaving their shit everywhere. Seems pretty reasonable to me.
    I do like your slave/maid idea. That would make me happy. Why can’t everyone realize that when I am happy, they can be happy? You would think they would have caught on by now.


  4. Thanks to DaddyKnowsLess I found you. You sound like a younger version of me. Fyi: the toilet flushing issue bothered my husband much more than it bothered me. His solution was to march all children to the bathroom & make every one of them look at it, every time. It still didn’t go away completely but they really didn’t enjoy looking at it either.


  5. The sink is right next to the dishwasher- Why the fuck are there dishes in the sink?! When my children were younger (They are “adults” now. LOL!), I would call to them, “C’mere, you gotta see this!” When they would arrive in the kitchen I would remove a plate from the sink, open the dishwasher and state, “Amazing, isn’t it?” This only worked a handful of times, but it certainly got the message across.


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