Dear Family

Dear Family of Mine,

This is an open letter from your wife and mother, respectively. I'm not writing to accuse or judge, berate or belittle. I just want to give you each permission to you fully participate in our home life.

I'm writing because I've done this in person a million times (no exaggerating here) and ya'll just don't seem to hear me. If you do hear me you choose to ignore me, and I simply cannot believe that could be true.

Could it?

You see, I have noticed, dear family, that you leave empty containers in their places.

Perhaps this is to keep our trashcan from filling too quickly?

To conserve water lest you have to hand wash a reusable container?

I appreciate your conservation efforts, dear ones, but I want to set you free from unrealistic expectations.

You can throw that stuff out, darlings. If it is empty, it has no place in our pantry. Cereal boxes can be recycled, no need to set them back on top of the refrigerator.  I give you permission, sweet children and husband of my heart, to walk the extra two feet to the trashcan and dispose of the trash. 

Maybe I haven't been clear about this in the past. Maybe my accusatory, "Who ate the last one?" has caused you each to want to hide the evidence in plain site. I promise I do not really have a finger printing kit, and I regret telling you that I did. I also regret taking your fingerprints, as that may have been going too far. I'm sorry.

I am just trying to understand.

Sometimes I wonder if one of you, or all of you, want to go into spelunking and are trying it out in our fridge. I mean, empty tubs of yogurt and cottage cheese stacked on empty egg cartons block the light bulb - trying to find the dijon mustard truly is like belly crawling through a deep, dark cave. The result is similar as well, as I always return covered in stickiness and smelling funny.

Half eaten pizza hanging out on the shelf.

Cardboard does NOT need refrigeration.

I have also pondered why, oh, why, my loves, you feel it is useful in any way to prop the new toilet paper on top the empty tube still on the thingy.  Oh, my, there comes the berating. Allow me to step away for a moment.

Why?

Alright, I snapped out of it, thanks to some dark chocolate.
 
What I am trying to say, please help a mother out and dispose of disposables. 

Please.

Before I lose what is left of my ever-loving mind.

In love and appreciation,

Me