The day has come

The day has come. I am my mother. Crap.

When I was younger, and even now still sometimes, when my mother is frustrated with me or just simply wants to wring my neck she writes me a letter or an e-mail. Usually it starts out all irritated and I can tell my mommas pissed at me. When she uses ALL CAPS I know she's exceptionally pissed.

Her letters would go on and on and on and on and I often would fall asleep, drooling and had to rouse myself to finish the novel that was written for me. The caps were the killer. I knew my momma meant business when she made the extra effort to type in caps.

Nine times out of ten the letters would end with a positive spin. She would tell me how much she loved me and how proud she is of me. Almost every time the letter ended with an I Love You.

You see where this is going, right?

My oldest son, Derick, is 13 and in 8Th grade. He signed himself up for advanced English and science classes. He's capable of making good grades in both classes but he's gotten lazy and thinks it's 'too hard'. I got an e-mail from this English teacher the other day and I was furious with Derick.

I was so furious I wrote him a letter. WITH CAPS. And I went on and on and on and on. I found my letter, discarded, in the trash can in Derick's bathroom. I think I even detected some drool on the paper. And I'm positive he fell asleep while reading the novel I wrote.

And so it begins. I am my mother.