Dear Baby in My Belly –
I love that I’m feeling you move now and that you are growing like crazy, but I’m a wee bit tired of being tired. And then waking up in the middle of night either nauseous or just AWAKE for no reason. My second trimester is supposed to be the easiest!
All my Love,
Your Mom Who’s Used to Sleeping Like a Log
Dear Everyone –
Yes, I know I should sleep as much as I can now. BUT IT’S IMPOSSIBLE.
Tired of Advice (pun!)
PS: I’m not really tired of advice because, really? I have no idea what I’m doing here.
Dear Dark Cherry Mocha –
I shall try you this afternoon and you shall be delicious.
Dear Most People at Work –
I’m not fat, I’m pregnant. Just an FYI. I know you won’t read my blog to find out (oh dear God, I hope not), but I just needed to get that off my chest.
Secrets are Fun, but Hiding is Still Tiring
PS: I probably could stop eating so many donuts, though.
PPS: “Best” annoys me as a sign off. Not sure why.
Dear Phoebe Buffay –
Thank you for giving me the song that’s been stuck in my head for months. (“Are you in there little fetus? In nine months will you come greet us? I will buy you some Adidas.”)
I Wish I Could Be As Cool As You
You can be quite overwhelming. Also, I wish I had fewer decisions to make.
Dear Anyone Who Emails Me Ever –
I’m terrible at returning emails in a timely fashion. Just. AWFUL. I love you all dearly, but I need your patience. Please?
[Insert electronic signature here]
Dear Sewing Machine –
You. Me. Quality time this weekend, baby. I see laptop sleeves and more coasters in our future.
Unless it’s Nice Out
Dear Cherry Pomegranate and Orange Juice –
You taste good mixed together. Also, I’ve never been much a juice girl (something about not wanting to drink my calories), but lately? I’m all about you guys.
May Have Overdosed on Vitamin C
Dear Big Love –
We just finished season three and I think we need to talk. You’re taking yourself far too seriously –enough with the excessive drama! You are pretty and interesting and fun without having to be so darn serious all the time.
President of the I Hate Nicki Club
Dear Belly -
Wait. Is that a baby or indigestion? Now I'm not sure.
Dear Weekend -
Squeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I love you.