My dearest children,
You know mommy loves you. I really do. But in the last few days I have had to seriously consider just how much social interaction we should have with other people in public places.
Banks are not places where we play hide-and-seek, tag or test fort construction methods with waiting room chairs. Offices in banks are essentially glorified cubicles nowdays. That means the walls can topple over. Therefore, tackling them is not a good idea. Oh, and the glass walls? Banging on those can be fairly catastrophic. Please refrain. Finally, climbing ATMs will not make us any friends and we may not be allowed the priviledge of using them any longer.
Let's discuss parking lots. Parking lots are not parks, even though they start off sounding the same. The best way to tell the difference is to look for a severe lack of grass or playstructures and a large amount of motor vehicles filled with people who aren't paying attention. You run in a park. You walk in a parking lot. You can hide behind tress in a park. You can't hide behind cars in a parking lot. In parking lots, you can get hit by a truck. In parks, the worst thing that'll hit you is an overtired child. Are you starting to see the difference?
All about libraries: They are quiet places. I know you don't get the whole 'quiet' thing, which is sort of ironic given your hearing impairements, but it's important to grasp the concept. We have outside voices and inside voices. We have inside voices and then we have library voices. Library voices are in "hushed tones". That means that we don't have to yell. Yes, it's true: sometimes we don't have to yell. Or even talk loud. It's a beautiful thing. You should both try it sometime. Another thing about libraries: climbing check-out rails and posts is generally discouraged. Oh, and that bell, Intrepid? That's for when there's nobody at the service counter. It's a ring for service bell. You don't need to ring it when there's someone staring at us from the other side of the counter. And when I say 'Don't do that, please', replying with 'Why? It's fun!' is not the smartest thing to say.
Finally, let's tackle the great outdoors. When you are provided with a large space to run around in and explore that is complete with a duck pond, beautiful wooden bridges, snails to observe, paths to which to walk and many other fun things, why, oh WHY must you do the ONLY things you're not supposed to do? Mainly: walk right on the edge of the pond and almost topple in, run full-throttle into people on the path because you're not looking and - the highlight of our epic adventures - pull an enormous, gushing, city hose out of the pond so that it sprays absolutely everyone and everything. In fact, it sprays so much that Jobthingy has to run over and try to turn it off, enlisting speedy as her helper while we stare dumbfounded from a bench where I've coralled the two of you for safe keeping. Jobthingy can then get absolutely drenched and full of duck pond scum and poop. Mommy can look at her in a very mortified and apologetic manner, vowing never to take you two out of the house again.
These things eventually make mommy sad. Mommy comes home, puts you to bed and cries while she's in the bath. Grab your invitation, because it's a pity party! Admit one pregnant woman who is hormonal and often helpless in public places due to her enormous belly and ever-growing hernia.
Tomorrow, mommy is keeping you home. You may play in the fenced backyard on your playstructure. Mommy will stick her head in the sandtable and avoid more frustration and embarrassment. Her mantra will be 'Only 11 more weeks. Only 11 more weeks. Only 11 more weeks.' Then I can run and lift again. Thank goodness.
I hope we can try this going out in public thing again soon. I also hope I can start feeling a little more in control and less like a prime candidate for the Worst Mother Ever award. However, if there's money or some kind of domestic help as a prize, it might not be such a bad thing.
Loving you always, despite the havoc,
Mom.
You know mommy loves you. I really do. But in the last few days I have had to seriously consider just how much social interaction we should have with other people in public places.
Banks are not places where we play hide-and-seek, tag or test fort construction methods with waiting room chairs. Offices in banks are essentially glorified cubicles nowdays. That means the walls can topple over. Therefore, tackling them is not a good idea. Oh, and the glass walls? Banging on those can be fairly catastrophic. Please refrain. Finally, climbing ATMs will not make us any friends and we may not be allowed the priviledge of using them any longer.
Let's discuss parking lots. Parking lots are not parks, even though they start off sounding the same. The best way to tell the difference is to look for a severe lack of grass or playstructures and a large amount of motor vehicles filled with people who aren't paying attention. You run in a park. You walk in a parking lot. You can hide behind tress in a park. You can't hide behind cars in a parking lot. In parking lots, you can get hit by a truck. In parks, the worst thing that'll hit you is an overtired child. Are you starting to see the difference?
All about libraries: They are quiet places. I know you don't get the whole 'quiet' thing, which is sort of ironic given your hearing impairements, but it's important to grasp the concept. We have outside voices and inside voices. We have inside voices and then we have library voices. Library voices are in "hushed tones". That means that we don't have to yell. Yes, it's true: sometimes we don't have to yell. Or even talk loud. It's a beautiful thing. You should both try it sometime. Another thing about libraries: climbing check-out rails and posts is generally discouraged. Oh, and that bell, Intrepid? That's for when there's nobody at the service counter. It's a ring for service bell. You don't need to ring it when there's someone staring at us from the other side of the counter. And when I say 'Don't do that, please', replying with 'Why? It's fun!' is not the smartest thing to say.
Finally, let's tackle the great outdoors. When you are provided with a large space to run around in and explore that is complete with a duck pond, beautiful wooden bridges, snails to observe, paths to which to walk and many other fun things, why, oh WHY must you do the ONLY things you're not supposed to do? Mainly: walk right on the edge of the pond and almost topple in, run full-throttle into people on the path because you're not looking and - the highlight of our epic adventures - pull an enormous, gushing, city hose out of the pond so that it sprays absolutely everyone and everything. In fact, it sprays so much that Jobthingy has to run over and try to turn it off, enlisting speedy as her helper while we stare dumbfounded from a bench where I've coralled the two of you for safe keeping. Jobthingy can then get absolutely drenched and full of duck pond scum and poop. Mommy can look at her in a very mortified and apologetic manner, vowing never to take you two out of the house again.
These things eventually make mommy sad. Mommy comes home, puts you to bed and cries while she's in the bath. Grab your invitation, because it's a pity party! Admit one pregnant woman who is hormonal and often helpless in public places due to her enormous belly and ever-growing hernia.
Tomorrow, mommy is keeping you home. You may play in the fenced backyard on your playstructure. Mommy will stick her head in the sandtable and avoid more frustration and embarrassment. Her mantra will be 'Only 11 more weeks. Only 11 more weeks. Only 11 more weeks.' Then I can run and lift again. Thank goodness.
I hope we can try this going out in public thing again soon. I also hope I can start feeling a little more in control and less like a prime candidate for the Worst Mother Ever award. However, if there's money or some kind of domestic help as a prize, it might not be such a bad thing.
Loving you always, despite the havoc,
Mom.