A Letter To Princess Kate: A Distressed Duchess In The Dumper

A Letter To Princess Kate: A Distressed Duchess In The Dumper

Dear Princess Puker Kate:

While I hope this letter finds you on the mend, I must tell you I write  sincerely when I offer you some words of wisdom following your recent run-in with the morning sickness.

Suck it up, Sister.

Seriously, I am beginning to think this regal gestation is going to last longer than Simpson’s and Snooki’s …COMBINED.   And, I must admit, I fear I won’t survive it.  I haven’t the strength for another go-round of a pampered pregnancy.

So, get a grip, Girl.  Seriously.  Get.a.grip.  

If you think for a minute, this whole hyperemesis gravidarumis bump in the road is the worst possible event to deal with as a mum, think again.  As far as motherhood goes, this is the highlight, baby. 

Seriously.  Yep.  The.very.best.part.  Darlin’ consider it the  flippin’ cherry on top.

Some day, you will look back on wretching your guts out in the royal restroom, alone with your own thoughts, and consdider it a gift.  

ALONE, here, being the operative word.  

Believe me when I tell you it might be a year from now…or perhaps two…but one thing is for sure: you will recall early December 2012 fondly. 

NO!  Not because early winter was the joyus time you and Wills announced to the world your beginning of the magical journey toward parenthood.  Nope, you will definitely recollect this time simply as one of the last times you found a moment’s peace in the crapper.

Up-chucking  in the privacy of your own loo will be something you can only dream of once the majestic moppets are born. 

So, for cripes sake, get off the pity pot and embrace this goddamn thrilling time in your life, will ya?

Fast foward a few years and mark my words, you will long for the time spent with your head in the bowl all by yourself as you entertain banging on the bathroom door by the royal hooligans.

It won’t matter if you’re heaving up a the effects of tying one on, trying to take a shower, or taking a royal tinkle. 

Those little bastards will find you.

BANG! BANG! BANG!  “Mummy, he’s looking at me!” 

BANG! BANG! BANG!  “Mummy, He says He was born first!” 

BANG! BANG! BANG!  “Mummy, I wanna ride the pony, NOW!”  

BANG! BANG! BANG! “Mummy, Grandmum is on the tele…” 

BANG! BANG! BANG!  “Darling,  where is my crown?”

Now, between you and me, I could only dream of disruptions that you will no doubt become familiar.  Mine are more of the ho-hum variety.

BANG! BANG! BANG!  “Ma!  You got any toilet paper in there?”

BANG! BANG! BANG!  “Ah, MOM…helllllo….I’m hungry, when’s dinner?”

BANG! BANG! BANG!  “Maaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”  Followed by blood-curdling screams indicating there is no time like the present to wipe, flush, and put on the referee gear and grab the whistle…UNNECESSARY ROUGHNESS.

BANG! BANG! BANG!  “Hey! Where are my brown socks?”

See what I mean?

Remember a couple of months ago, when you peed on that spectacular stick and rejoiced at the prospect of impending Mom-dum.  Well, consider that point as reaching the top of the Motherhood Mountain.

And the morning sickness, merely a distraction, considering the record-breaking speeds you’ll reach as you begin your journey south.

Yep, it is all downhill from here, little lady.

Trust me, it really is, when you consider your “ME TIME” in the shitter.

Keepin’ It Real, Yo!

A Future Mother-of-the-Year Recipient From Across The Pond

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