Please, God, let me get to the gas station without running out of gas. I don't want to have to walk in the rain.
Please, Phoenix, my sweet, sweet, blind and deaf Aussie puppy, stop that crying bark that annoys the neighbors. They don't know you're terrified of being left alone in a world you can't see or hear, and you're going to get the police called on me. It breaks my heart to hear your gentle-souled little self crying because you don't know where I am, but you can't go with me to the store and you have to stay in your crate.
Please, my dear son, stop stretching Mommy's belly so tight. It hurts Mommy and she already looks like a damn empty distressed leather purse. The last thing I need is another stretch mark.
Please, behemoth boobs of mine, save your leaking for when I have breast pads on. Springing a leak when my bra is off still bugs me.
Please, credit card machine, take my card. I don't know how much money is on there, but I think it's enough and I need these groceries and it's terribly embarrassing when my card gets declined in front of other shoppers.
Please don't look at me like this. I look bloody awful right now and I don't have the energy to put makeup on. Or decent pants, not that they'd fit anyway...
These are the times I've said please already today. I know there will be more...
I say please a lot too
