I get it. I have a belly. I am nearly 19 weeks pregnant. Yes, there is a child in there. No, I will never be one of those mothers who winds up on TLC's "I Didn't Even Know I Was Pregnant," because the second I peed on that stick? I got a belly. Do you not remember the 9lbs. 10oz. man-child that I gave birth to in 2010? I get it. Please. Now shut your face before I tell you how big I think YOU look.
Love and Hugs,
Remember that day (Monday) where you climbed out of your crib and walked down an entire flight (12) and a half (6) stairs to surprise Mommy while she worked on the computer? Please don't do that again. Mommy doesn't need to know what it feels like to have a heart attack at twenty-eight. I sure hope you weren't playing in the toilet either.
Your Big Boy Bed Arrives Next Week,
If you'd ever like to sleep with a sane woman again (I'm speaking about myself, your wife here, so to avoid any confusion), our child will be sleeping in a Big Boy Bed by next week. Don't worry, I already ordered the bedding off of Pottery Barn Kids. And yes, it already arrived. I'm about to pull the trigger on the bed, too.
Pregnancy, Heart Attacks and Grey Hair Do Not Suit Me,
Your Loving Wife
Dear Victoria's Secret,
Please replenish your stock of adorable cotton pajama sets. Blissdom is coming up and I'm pretty sure my roommates don't need to see me wearing my husband's ratty (and inappropriate) fraternity t-shirts to bed. Remember, I need to make a good impression on these folks and a T-shirt bearing the phrase "We (picture of a screw), We (picture of a nut), We (picture of a bolt) does not scream, "nice little girl from Maryland."
Jennifer and Whit Will Love Me More,
Dear Makers of Heath Toffee Bits,
Please don't ever discontinue these delicious bits of toffee-heaven. Perhaps, however, you may want to include a large straw with your bags as to facilitate their movement more quickly from the bag to my mouth.
Your Loyal Devour-er of Bits,