Really.  I had no idea they were the most ungrateful, selfish, demanding, and loud humans I've ever come in contact with.  That's right, I heard Deacon erupt into a seven minute whining fit when you ran out of scrambled eggs Tuesday morning.  Of course you cooked 14 eggs… but no.. that wasn't enough was it?  I overheard Story screaming and stomping the wood floors in the kitchen because asked her to clean her room… four times.  Oh yeah, I heard Amos tell you that you never do anything fun… and you never take them anywhere… as I'm sure he was finishing his strawberry-lemon slush from Sonic that you purchased for him on the way home from school.  I'm sorry.

Good Lord, the washer and dryer is on the other side of this bedroom wall, and I swear I didn't hear that washing machine stop sucking our precious planet's water supply the entire week of my flu-coma.  I guess that explains last month's $240 water bill.  I shouldn't have yelled at the tyrants for taking too long in the shower; it turns out you actually do five loads of laundry EVERY single day.  Then, the tyrants complain each morning that they don't have any underwear.  I'm sorry.

This does explain our $500 a month fuel costs… I shouldn't have blamed the neighbor for syphoning our gas.. turns out we actually used it.  But it doesn't explain why a family has to travel to and from a school SIX times a day?  The way I figure it, that's almost two hours every day you spend in traffic, listening to stupid kids music, and checking your Twitter at red lights.  No wonder the car is an absolute wreck!  You don't want to touch it or look at it or think about.. because 15% of your day is spent sitting in a cheerio-lined-leather-seat with a steering wheel in your hand.  I'm sorry.

Really.  Having four kids is not having four individual children.  That sort of “simple math” does not apply to children.  1+1+1+1 does NOT equal 4. Adding up children is like another form of Eastern math that none of us understand.  1+1+1+1 clearly equals 64.  You have 64 children.  That's the only thing that could explain why my bedroom sounded like an overcrowded daycare in the hood from 7-7:30am and 3:45-8:00pm.  The correct (eastern) math is 1x4x4x4.  And that equals 64.  You have 64 children.  And I had no idea.  I'm sorry.

Kids are at school.  Husband is working.  Dog is sleeping.  I assumed you were just reading People magazine…. meeting friends for lunch and margaritas… catching up on re-runs of Ellen and The Bachelorette… and throwing a few socks here-and-there into the washing machine while laughing at some text conversation with your bestie.  That explains why when I come home from working all day (writing songs and singing….so lame), and my first thought when I see laundry everywhere and the sink full of dishes.. my initial thought (previous and stupid) is… “dang girl…whatchu been doing all day?!  you think you could clean up around here instead of eating ice cream on the couch during The Biggest Loser re-runs, huh?”  Well, as I was laid up in bed everyday this week, I realized that you spend every morning cooking breakfast, packing lunches and carting kids off to school.  Then, you come home and get Story read for school.  Then you might have 1 hour (on a good day) to get groceries, take a kid to the doctor, or meet with the women you disciple, before you have to turn around to pick the kids up at 3:30.  Then you come home, help them with homework, wait for your husband to come home, have a few hours of family time, then you're drowned again with emails, writing articles, volunteering for something at the kids school, studying for women's development program, talking on the phone to another mom that's struggling through adoption, getting the stains out of a kids' school uniform, and talking to your husband about how HIS day was… Dang, girl.  Moms are amazing.  And I don't know how you do it.  You deserve every glass of wine, every girls night out, and every monday night that we have for date-night… Actually you deserve much more.  I'm sorry.

So, cheers to you.  And to every mom that's ever lived and ever will live.  Because as rewarding as “mom-hood” may be (pshhh)… it's undervalued, under-appreciated, and definitely undert-noticed.  But I took notice this week.  Maybe every husband on the planet should get stricken with the worst influenza virus we can find.  That way he can lay in his bed and hear through his walls, like I did, and notice that his wife is a rockstar.