Friday Letters

WOW what a crazy week! Mike and I kicked it off in NYC on Saturday, celebrating our first anniversary (more on that in another post). When we got back Sunday night, it was go-go-go all week and frankly, I don’t know why I’m not passed out in some kind of stress-induced coma right now. Whoever said that working moms “have it all” must also be cracked out on Ativan. 
Enjoy this week’s installment of Friday Letters, and be sure to check out this blogger and the original Letters. Happy weekend!
Dear New York Friends,
You’re AWESOME! Thank you thank you THANK YOU for a perfect anniversary weekend!
Dear Brooklyn,
Hey, I just met you– and this is crazy– but I’m in love with you. Mike and I have always talked about moving to NYC, and I could totally see us raising our little family here. Five year plan?
Dear Landon,
I feel like I’ve only seen you for five minutes this week, and I hate it. The best part of my day is coming home to your dimply smiles and snuggling you tight, if only for a few minutes before I’m out the door again. Part of me is glad that you won’t remember this time, because I’m not around as much as I’d like to be. I keep reminding myself that the hours I spend working and in class are going to pay off for our family in the end, but right now it sucks. It just plain sucks.
Dear Roy Rogers Bacon Cheeseburger,
You were the only semi-real food I ate all day, and you were incredible in all of your 6,000-calorie glory. My tummy (and the lard around my waistline) thanks you.
Dear Motown Artists of the 1960s (and early 70s),
Thank you for calming my child. I don’t really know why he has such an affinity for your music, but we’re just gonna go with it. You’ve been the soundtrack to many a kitchen dance sesh, and I don’t hate it.
Dear Bank Account,
I’m sorry. Wishing you a speedy recovery.
Dear Mentor Teacher,
Sorry I send you an average of four emails a day. You should know that I’m a crazy perfectionist and it will probably only get worse. Don’t hate me.
Dear People of the World,
If anyone else wants to see my boobs, just ask.
Dear Husband,
You’re Super Dad. I would be even more of a mess than I already am if it weren’t for you. Thanks for putting up with me this year; hope you’re ready for a hundred more =]
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Author: Erica the Great

twenty-something + wife + momma + teacher + lover of nutella

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