Mail Time

So there are several letters I need to write. Some things are just driving me crazy, and others I need to thank. Feel free to make fun of me, or don't. I don't care either way. Here is an insight into my brain. And keep in mind, it's a pregnancy brain, which is prone to all sorts of craziness anyway.


Dear constipation: Thank you for leaving. My rumplestiltskin is very thankful. I could take a break from the gas though, and I think my husband would agree.

Dear heartburn: Take a hint from your good friend constipation, and get the heck outta here.

Dear guy who lives in the studio next door to us: Why must you ALWAYS be showering/using water at the same time I need to shower? This whole scalding hot/freezing cold water thing is getting really old. And I'm tired of having to climb back into bed naked because I'm too lazy to put my clothes back on while I'm waiting for the water to heat up. I mean my husband's not complaining, but really...cut a girl some slack and just don't shower, do dishes, or flush the toilet in case it's when I need to shower. K? Awesome.

Which brings me to....

Dear builders of our apartment: Why did you put two apartments on one water heater? It's really quite annoying.

Dear sugar cookies: Get in mah bellaaaayyy!!!

Dear Boobs: Really? REALLY? You think getting even bigger is a good idea?!? I'm pretty sure you're going to be the size of bowling balls when all this is over. I hate you.

Dear Patrick Dempsey: Why are you so dreamy? Thank you for providing me with some eye candy every Thursday night, even though you are the same age as my dad. You slay me.

Dear Baby: I am so freakin excited to meet you I can hardly stand it. I love you more than I knew possible and you're only the size of an ear of corn! Even when you kick me in the boob, I still love you. Hurry up and get here so me and your dad can love all over you. He's pretty excited you know. And he's going to be the best dad you could have ever asked for. Him and I are so grateful you're being sent to us.

And lastly...

Dear Albert: I don't know how you put up with me every single day. I am a snarky, crabby, grouchy old preggo lady who somehow finds something negative in just about every situation, and you still love me. You make me a better person, and for that I am grateful. Thanks for already being a terrific dad to this cute little fetus. I love you!