Dear Santa Maria Post Office employee woman,
I realize you will probably not read this letter, because I don't think you read my blog. If you did, you would probably not have told me what you told me yesterday.
In case you don't recall, right around closing time last night my three children and I entered the post office. Two of them were riding nicely in their stroller, the little girl sweetly holding a package to be mailed. The third child was walking calmly and quietly beside me. They waited patiently as I mailed my package and adoption finalization documents, and as we were leaving you asked me if they were all "mine."
"Yes!" I said proudly as we proceeded to leave. That's when you looked at me and said without smiling, "You're crazy."
Now I really want to believe the best about you. Maybe you've had a bad experience with children in the past--maybe at the post office even. Or maybe you genuinely thought I look like I suffer from those delusions of grandeur I learned about in my Abnormal Psychology class in college--perhaps you'd even recently consulted your DSM-IV manual. (I wonder if that's where the term "going postal" originated?)
Either way, it seemed a little impolite to call me crazy, especially in front of all three of my children, none of whom are hard of hearing. I am an at-home mom and it's what I do each day, just like you spend your days working for the US Postal Service. In the future I hope to have a better in-person response to such comments than my standard, "They're great kids." But for now, this letter will have to do.