Dear Mothers

My 13-year-old devoured his breakfast, carried his plate to the sink and said, “You’re welcome.” I looked around to see who he was talking to. I was the only person left sitting in the room. I was the one who just made him pancakes. Why was he passive aggressively demanding a thank-you from me? “I put my plate in the sink for you,” he said. Pour Moi? Oh honey, you didn’t put that plate in the sink for me. You did it because it was your dirty plate. Does my name tag say Benson? After a brief lecture he washed that plate.
This encounter inspired me to write an open letter to mothers worldwide. Well, except those living in countries where women aren’t even allowed to show skin. You have a whole other battle to fight. I was sweating today wearing a t-shirt. I would die in a Burka. Is it too much to ask for a little brisk air in October? I live in New York State. If I wanted frizzy hair year round I would move to Orlando. Autumn is usually peri menopausal- friendly. What the hell is happening? To quote a friend, “We’ll tell our grandkids: In my day fall was for sippin’ hot cocoa not skipping over hot lava.” Anyway, here is my letter to mothers everywhere. Fingers crossed that Sinead O’Connor responds.

Dear Mother,

Please teach your son to change a toilet paper roll. There is nothing worse than going to the bathroom only to discover there is no paper to wipe. No woman should ever have to shuffle across a room, muscles tightened, to get a new roll. While you’re at it, show your son the difference between a decoration and a toiletry. Which one of these is photographed in a Pottery Barn catalog? A vase, candle holder or bottle of Right Guard? Deodorant, mouthwash, toothpaste, etc. may be returned to the appropriate drawer after each use. Force your son to put his dirty socks in a clothes hamper. It is in their nature to do the complete opposite. They will want to take off a pair of filthy socks and throw them to the ground. Without your guidance he will step over the dirty socks in the morning as if invisible. It is your mission to train him. Teach your son how to do laundry, dishes and vacuum. If you do everything for him now the hussy woman he marries will suffer. Do you really want your future daughter-in-law to go through this, too? The tramp woman who steals marries your son deserves better.