A Letter

Dear Husband:

It’s 17 degrees here right now.  I tell you this—because as I type this, you’re on a plane bound for sunny Florida. 

It’s also trash and recycling night--a fact you might have overlooked in your hustle to get out of the door this morning.  I understand: screaming children have the same effect on me.  Also overlooked, quite possibly, is the state of our driveway.  You know the one: the long, steep one that we have to traverse to put out said trash and recycling.  Can you believe that we had four (count them: FOUR) huge trash cans to put out there tonight? 

But, I digress. As for the state of our driveway, it’s ice.  And, I know this because I almost died.  With our three kids deep in homework and play, I am certain that had I fallen, as I almost did on multiple occasions, I would have met my frozen death.  I mean, we’ve raised super capable kids, so when I didn’t return, I am sure the two older would have just put themselves to bed.  There would have been no search party.   The two-year-old was my best bet, but seeing how we had the worst afternoon in parent/child history, I think he would have cackled as he turned away from the window in “oblivion.”  Kuddos, by the way, on the responsible kids.

The ice driveway has scared away the mail carrier.  She’s dropping packages on the street, by the big rock.  You know, WAY out there.  The UPS guy delivered a package today by walking through the crunchy grass, as to avoid the driveway and walk.  I am pretty sure I saw him “flip me the bird” on the way to his truck.   Don’t bother sending flowers as a peace offering; the delivery person would most likely protest or break a neck, neither of which is an ideal situation for this frazzled mama.

Since I’ve been trying to extend grace, I’ll let this one slide.  But, if you ever leave me with three crazy kids and a driveway of ice again, I plan to summit the ice hill to come looking for you—even all the way in sunny Florida.

Now, go walk barefoot in the sand for me—and let’s hope you find some change to buy chocolates at the airport as a possible apology.  Or some ice melt.  That might make me happier in the end.

With warm thoughts,

Your wife