An open letter

Dear 3:00 p.m.,

I want to send a huge thank you out for your being so dependably craptastic. As you know, I have very little time to myself and I usually am working on Very Important Things while the girls are napping. Until 3:00 p.m. when I finally have a chance to relax for a moment and be Very Extremely in ALL CAPS QUIET so they won't wake up. Then, 3:00 p.m. , something happens and the entire world conspires to wake them up. It starts with Lots of Cars Who Have No Business Driving on This Street going past, many of whom have no muffler. Then the kids in the neighborhood begin walking past the house discussing VERY LOUD THINGS on their way home from school. The mail is delivered and Fred Puppstein the Wonderdog loses his mind. The ice machine that I never hear during 23 other hours of the day makes ice, I believe just to spite me. The heat comes on. Phones are ringing. I have to pee in the bathroom adjoining their room. The UPS guy. Really? I haven't received a package since early 1998 and you are here NOW? With that, all hope is gone and the girls are awake and grumpy and guess what? I don't get a chance to relax until 3:00pm tomorrow when it all starts over.

I have tried to beat you, 3:00pm, but you prove to be a worthy opponent. I have resorted to desperate measures far beyond turning off the phone, turning off the heat, putting signs on the front door and one unfortunate incident where I relieved myself in the backyard. To no avail.

3:00pm, I hope that you are a mom someday and will be payed back for this. Until then, you can suck it.

Yours,

Kirsten