A note to my children.

Dear Child,
This is your mother speaking to you late at night. I have just came from my laundry room and am perturbed by the state it is in. I made great effort to organize this room into an easy to use and functional facility that even a blind person could use.

You have proven to me that you are lazily handicapped and losing your eyesight would probably be of benefit to you. Then maybe you would put your dirty clothes in the correct hamper. As of this day, (sorry, night, mind you), I WILL NOT SORT the clothes of anyone over the age of 4. I will not separate your socks from your inside out turned jeans that have been tossed into the whites basket. If they land there again they will be bleached and you WILL be wearing them as a fashion statement to school later that week. Depending on how social I feel, I might get angry enough to do a Madea move and BURN them on the grill in a blazing smoke cloud of glory, causing the fire department to be called to my house and after explaining to them why the clothes are on fire, join me and watch the pyrotechnics while eating some freshly baked cookies.
That is how angry I am at 11:37 tonight.

Also, there are these necessities of life called chores. EVERYONE needs to do theirs or my clock will be ticked off. Well, my clock is really off this week due to the laundry person not folding and putting away the CLEAN LAUNDRY! If I go into your room again because I can't find your baby sisters' clothes that were washed 3 days ago and disappeared from the dryer, only to be resurrected on your bed in a ginormous pile of folded clothes surrounded by a moat of pillows, underneath the missing towels and washcloths from LAST WEEK, I might have to make things disappear from your life. Important things, like your cell phone charger, then the cell phone, Identification card, and then, your mattress!! (Don't ask me where I'll put it! I WILL find a place!)
I will make your life miserable and the world will know it. They will see your embarrassment when you wear those bleached jeans to school, can't answer texts from your friends and look like you've had no sleep for a week.

And that smoke alarm that keeps going off while you're at home? That oven is a bit sensitive. Start counting your socks because aren't you missing a few?

Love,
Your Mother

P.S.
Whew!I just had to get that off of my mind! Now, please forgive me for losing it!