Dearest Jackson, my son, light of my life, fruit of my loin……
Mommy loves you more than you will ever know for ever and ever. You are my everything…..but today…..you are the reason they invented contraception.

While I understand you have cabin fever, you’re approaching the terrible two’s, you’re weaning from binky, teething and frustrated you can’t communicate with us they way you want, Mommy is about to have her own epic meltdown, so she’s putting herself in a time out and taking five. Either that, or she’s going to hide in the closet in the fetal position for the rest of the day so you can’t find her until Daddy gets home.

What started as a nice morning, out and about, Mommy & son on another one of our, ‘secret adventures,’ quickly turned as ugly as a Christmas sweater when you decided to have what can only be described as a full-on-fit, bat-shit crazy meltdown in Barnes and Noble because you didn’t want to be there any longer and/or was bored. Kicking all the books off the lower shelves with your tiny, adorable but deadly Fred Flintstone feet quickly interrupted the happy sales associate singing her Christmas carols and produced such a look of horror and disbelief at this little troll of a person behaving so badly and to me, the idiot Mom who couldn’t control this creature from the black lagoon.

After more kicking, screaming, trying to pocket a Harry Potter collector’s item and then throwing all the Godiva box sets to the floor during checkout, Mommy stupidly thought maybe she’d have another ten minutes to run to the grocery store to buy the things needed to make your Toddler Time Christmas friggin brownies that she has to decorate after work tomorrow night…..

How you so do love proving Mommy wrong……

While trying to navigate the stroller in the stupid, narrow aisles that only Brooklyn natives tolerate, Mommy, now dripping in sweat under her boobs frantically looked for green and red sprinkles while you decided on an encore performance of, Sweeney Toddler: Return of the Little Asshole by taking jars of tomato sauce off the shelves until Mommy caught you a millisecond before you threw it on the floor only to turn her back while you decided you then desperately needed to knock all the glass jars of spices to the floor amongst more looks of horror by fellow patrons. This was only to be followed by us getting caught in the aisle amidst boxes of inventory while Mommy tried to get the fucking stroller through. She may or may not have kicked some of those boxes out of her way cursing like a sailor as the hardworking stock-boy, afraid to make eye contact gingerly moved out of her way.

To wrap up our morning events, I want to thank you for laying down face first in the hallway of our building screaming in protest that you did not want to go upstairs to the apt. You gave Mommy’s heart rate a second to come back down and her sweaty boobs a chance to cool. Mommy admires your passion and persistence, I’m sure the neighbors do as well….but kid….today is not the day. You’ve reached your quota of Mommy patience. So, after carrying you up the four flights of stairs under my arm like a sack of potatoes with four grocery bags on the other arm while you managed to take off your coat all while hitting Mommy in the arm and on the butt, only to come upstairs and throw your cup of milk across the floor at me while then climbing on the couch onto the bookshelves while throwing all the books off of them in an effort to get the remote controls, to then be quickly followed by ripping the speaker to the T.V. out to reach the landline phone, I would say your timeout in your room was well warranted. I’m not sure if a vampire crept in your room last night and bit you, dragging you to the dark side or an alien landed and possessed your little brain, either way I’d like to ask them for my funny, sweet little boy back…please.

I had hoped our calm, little chat on the floor afterwards helped you understand why Mommy might be upset about this morning’s events but then when you decided to throw your peanut butter sandwich to the floor like a chimp in a cage…it clearly became nap time. And when I say nap time, I mean, little chimp, that you are going back in your cage, I mean crib and I don’t care if you nap, stomp your feet on the walls, or stare at the ceiling for the next two hours…..Mommy is saying peace out, see you later ….

Good times……

I love my son. I love my son. I love my son………I do love you my son……

Merry Christmas to all and to all a fucking good night……

Love Always & Forever,
Mommy
xoxoxo