A Note to Negative Nelly

An open letter to my husband, heretofore known as Negative Nelly. 

1. First and foremost, I know you had a bad day at work.  It sucks.  It sucks that all the responsibility for our fiscal security falls on you.  But seriously, you need to leave ya baggage at the do’.   You’re in your safe place now.

2. I am an anxious woman.  We have been together for 16 *blissful* years.  I suggest you embrace my anxiety as part of my charm and strive to NOT be a contributor to said anxiety.  Step one would be recognizing that when I’m carting our offspring to My Mecca Target in my Swagger Wagon for our annual eye appointments and you call to tell me you’re on your way home and how about I get all that laundry finished up and get packed so we can drive to the in-laws’ TONIGHT, you are making my armpits all persweaty again.

3. It is unwise to harp on me about all the things I forgot to pack when I just packed clothes and bathing suits and baby food and bottle and toys and toothbrushes and shoes and friends and jackets and snacks and ETCETERA for all of our children and myself while you packed a little bag with clean underwear, socks, and necessary toiletries for yourself only. 

"Wha?  There's TRAFFIC?  On 95 South?
At 6 pm?  I did NOT see this coming!"

4. News flash: I do not control the traffic on Interstate 95.  However, I am pretty sure that all of the other drivers are not involved in a vast conspiracy to piss you off.

5. The baby does not enjoy being confined in his car seat for hours at a time, and sometimes he gets fussy regardless of the volume of music, the volume of his brothers, or the fact that I turned the overhead light on so you could put mustard on my burger.    

6.  I apologize for not embracing your theory that nuggets would have been a better choice than a cheeseburger because it would have prevented you from expending the effort it took for mustard  application.

7.  I apologize for liking mustard.

8.  If you used it last, don’t get all pissy when I don’t know where it is.  BTW, I totally know where it is, but I’m not telling you because I’m all mature like that.

That is all.

I adore you.  You are my True Companion.  But if you keep it up, I WILL smother you with a pillow as you slumber.

Love,

Your First Wife

(Y.F.W.)