Medical School

Personal Letters

G. is finally making progress on her letters when she is rudely disturbed by a text message:

“Time’s up.  Kids are driving me nuts.  Your turn.”

She’s not even half way done but she’s over her word limit.  “Fantastic,” she says under her breath.


She heads downstairs and begins to plan dinner with the two scoundrels following at her feet. “MOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMY”

“Get out of the kitchen, please.”


“You know the rules.  Get out of the kitchen when Mommy’s cooking.” She says more sternly.


“Get out of the kitchen. NOW. Before Mommy loses her sh*t!” She yells through clenched teeth.

At this, DH cuts in: “I know you didn’t know what you were getting into before you had kids, but now that you have them, I don’t know why you want another one; you don’t even seem to like the ones you have.”

G. glares back with a silent “F*ck off” in her eyes.  “Let’s see how much you like your kids when you’re preparing for your boards.”


Silently, she turns back around and decides to make peanut butter sandwiches.  She places the plates haphazardly on the table and decides to go for a drive to clear her mind.  She finds herself at Walmart, perusing the isles.  Then she sees it: an Amaryllis kit.  “Perfect,” she thinks.

G. strolls back into the house with an all-too-calm demeanour and her Amaryllis kit in hand.  DH watches as she slowly and meticulously unpacks the contents of the kit onto the kitchen counter.  “Is everything okay, Honey?  You seem a little… piqued.”

“Oh, I’m fine.  Just planting my Amaryllis.”Amaryllis

2 thoughts on “Personal Letters

  1. My jaw dropped to what he said. Someone accuses me of not liking my own kids, they’d be getting a smackdown. lol. But you handled it well, dear. 🙂


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