An Open Letter To All The Things

Dear Open Letter Trend,

I know everyone's over you. But I haven't had my chance to get funny or snarky or clever or witty yet, and so I'm going to take an end-of-trend chance on you.

Let's do this.


Dear Children, Aged 6 and 4 years,

Summer is nigh. Your relentless talking to us and over us and at us and around us must be curbed if we're to survive so many days in a row together. I truly do find you to be fascinating little humans, and yet I find it impossible to be interested in what you're saying when I can't even hear the inside of my own ears due to your volume. Let us all pray, together, for a cool, sunny, bug-free summer so that you might find the personal fortitude to build yourselves a small house in the backyard, where you can wile away your summer days, lazing about and screaming, happily of course, at each other.


Dear Sparkle Stories,

I love you. I do. Martin and Sylvia feel like members of our family. And so I've tried to overlook how perfectly fucking perfect everything always is at their house. Mama and Daddy, with their socially-conscious/artistic dreams consistently fulfilled, Martin and Sylvia always eager to quietly and happily participate in journaling, fairy-boat making and racing, and long car rides with ne'er a hint of believable angst or discord. They love muesli, choose salad for lunch at home and bags of almonds when on the train, even though I'm sure they were standing face to face with bags of chips and bright packages of candy. Yes, Martin and Sylvia, the homeschooled children who spend their nights in their second-story loft bedroom, sound truly lovely. And because I so deeply respect your abilities, David, as a storyteller, I've made the decision to keep loving you, despite my ever-increasing feelings of parental inadequacy. And so instead of banning dear Martin and Sylvia from our home for the sake of my ego, I've come up with a few story ideas for you:

  1. Martin and Sylvia: The Epic Tantrum That Started Because of A Sticker
  2. Martin and Sylvia: The Time Daddy's Art Wasn't Selling
  3. Martin and Sylvia: "Martin Threw His Pizza Crust At Me AND IT HURTS!"

What do you think?



Dear Children, Aged 6 and 4 years (Reprise),

If you love Martin and Sylvia so much, you might consider imitating them. I know I've always encouraged you to be leaders instead of followers, but, in this instance, fuck that shit. I promise I'll buy you muesli if you want me to. You don't even need to say please (even though I know Martin and Sylvia would).


Dear Everyone On Instagram Uploading Beautiful Photos Of Your Lush Vegetable Gardens,

What's with all the bragging? Cut it out. You're making the weeds and grass that are currently planted in my vegetable garden feel really shitty about themselves. It's not cool.


Dear People Who Read My Writing, Comment On It, And Share It,

You are magical. I love you. I can't believe you exist. I would mouth kiss every one of you if it wouldn't make my husband mad. Every time I connect with you, it feels like fairy dust is being sprinkled all over me. And even though I try to remove my ego from my work - to remember that it's not all about me - it feels damn good having you around. Don't ever leave me or I might go crazy (ha, just [kind of] kidding).


Dear Self,

First, chill out about the Sparkle Stories thing. David and Lisabeth are not telling stories at you. Also, don't forget to swim and frolic a little bit this summer. The internet will still exist in the fall, when the children go back to school. And don't pretend you're not going to miss the hell out of them when they go back, or that you're not going to cry like an infant when you bring your son to his first day of preschool - you totally are. And lastly, eat some more vegetables.

You might even consider growing them yourself.