friday's letters

I'm linking up with Ashley for Friday's Letters.

Dear James Michael, how is it that your first 6 months have flown by? Not only are you working on your core by sitting up, but you're also practicing turkish getups with your 0.2 lb dumbell. Your form is looking great, and I'm so glad you heeded daddy's advice when he suggested rolling out your muscles so you stay loose. Looks like you're still on track for competing in the 2030 CrossFit Games.

Dear Blogger, you've been good to me for the past couple years, but now it's time for me to move on to bigger and better things. I have a feeling I'll miss your easy usability, but you just don't have the plug-in options I want, so it's time I learned Wordpress.

Dear Husband, I normally think of you as a conservative spender. But in the past month, between the motorcycle and the demise of your smart phone, I'm really starting to wonder. You have no room to balk at my request for a bi-monthly housecleaning service. I guarantee you my hourly rate is 10 times that of a professional service. Consider the professionals your cheapest way out.

Dear Hilton Head, I c.a.n.n.o.t wait to see you in T-minus 15 days. The thought of fresh seafood and a week's worth of R&R makes my knees wobble. Oh yeah, and your beaches will be lots of fun for the little one.

Dear Twitter, I'm sorry, but I just can't make myself like you. I don't speak your language, I don't have enough interesting things to say and I don't have the time it takes to make you worth my while. I do, however, enjoy your picture counterpart Instagram. As the saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words.

Dear 100+ degree heat, thank goodness you gave your goodbyes before July 4. You made it super hard to keep a baby who loves the great outdoors entertained last weekend. Never again will I complain about the heat when it is a mere 95 degrees.

Dear Foodie Penpals, to say I am excited about participating in your food swap for the first time this month is an understatement. Who would have thought that not just receiving, but sending a box of my favorite foods to a stranger could be this exhilarating.

friday's letters...from james michael

I'm linking up with Ashley for Friday's Letters.

Dear Aunt Ellie, you are the silliest person I know. Mama says the same thing about you. She also says not to expect her to have as much energy as you until I start sleeping through the night. I told her that sometimes I wake up and miss her and daddy, so I scream in my bed. She says that she and daddy don't get any sleep when I do that. But I told her I'm still just a little baby.

Dear naptime, I'm kind of over you. Every time you visit, I always miss out on something fun, that's why I'm boycotting you as much as possible. This makes for an even more exhausted mama, daddy and babysitter, but I told them it's hard to relax when you know you're the life of the party.

Dear crossfitters at CFA, sometimes I like to watch you work out when I come to the gym because what you do is so crazy. Other times, I like to put on my own little squealing show so you'll pay attention to me. Mama is trying to teach me manners early on, and says I should say thank you to the many members who have entertained me while mama works out. So thank you for holding me and talking to me and playing with me at the gym. You all are so much fun!

Dear biggest bathtub ever (which mama calls a lake), I can't believe how huge you are. I want to jump in you and swim around like a duck, but mama says I'm too little this summer. She's afraid I might swallow some of you, and she's not sure what all lurks in your waters. I told her I'll try to be a big boy if she'll just let me in, but when mama says no, she means business. For now, I'll just enjoy watching other people splash around. But next summer, I'm gonna give those ducks a run for their money.

Dear baby food, I'm still not sure what to think of you. Mama's let me "test" you out a couple times, but I'm confused by your color, flavor and texture. I'll be 6 months old next weekend, and mama says then I'll start eating a little baby food every day. I told her good luck with that. She called me strong willed. I told her I only do what I want to do when I want to do it. She said I'm just like my daddy.

friday's letters

I'm linking up with Ashley for Friday's Letters.

Dear glutes, I know I've neglected you during the last few months, and that's why you've lost your perky shape. I foresee many deadlifts and squats in your future, and I don't want any complaining.

Dear husband, I know you're so excited to ride your new motorcycle, but please watch out for all the crazy drivers, as I'd like you to father more children one day.

Dear California, it would be awesome if you would relinquish your grasp on the Morgan Family and let them move to Georgia. I think Mama Morgan and I could be great friends.

Dear James Michael, I would really appreciate it if you'd stop this pattern of dirty diaper blowouts in the middle of the night. 4 a.m. baths are not your friend, even though you are all smiles and think it's play time.

Dear coffee, some days I put too much pressure on our friendship and then you fail to deliver. It's not you; it's me. I promise to ease off a bit, just promise you won't leave me.

Dear Hilton Head, I am counting down the weeks until I can frollick on your beaches. Contrary to what people might believe, those three months of maternity leave were a lot of work. I need a real vacation.

Dear blog, between my one hour of free time on weeknights and a couple hours on the weekend, I'm finding time to finally pay you some attention. I told the hubby that on weeknights I have time to either blog or cook dinner, and his face dropped. He knows how much I like you, and I know how much he likes to eat. So I struck a deal and told him I'd alternate my focus each night. I convinced myself I'd cook enough dinner to eat as leftovers for the following night. Who am I kidding?

Dear Game of Thrones book, I like you, I really do, but 807 pages is a lot of book for a sleep-deprived mama to read. I'm determined to finish you, but don't count on me reading book No. 2.

Dear mosquito that attacked these chubby baby legs 10 times, this means war.