A Post on Rory

Dear Rory,

This is a letter from your mother. Mom. Mommy. Mama. Remember me? You used to say my name all the time, but now it's Dada 24/7. So to you dear girl I say this...who picks out your clothes so you aren't wearing a church sweater and Adidas sweat pants every day? (Remember that outfit daughter of mine?) Who washes the toys so you aren't chewing on dirt? Who buys the bows and combs your hair and makes sure your mullet stays under control?

NOT DAD! :)

I am the one here, each morning, while we chase the dog, dance the Hot Dog Dance, watch the Mail Lady (Hi Gina!) walk up and down our street and whine our way to lunch time. I'm the administrator of the Motrin for your sore gums and Desitin for your sore bum. (Thanks, teeth.)

Yet WHY daughter of mine, do you only say "HI DADA!" when he comes in the room? In case you don't know, I threw up the first 15 weeks I was carrying your cute little booty around inside of me. I gave up COFFEE and you know how Mama loves her coffee. I didn't eat all sorts of things and took nasty vitamins that made me sick. I'd do it all again, 1000 times, because I love you that much. Would it kill you to give me a Hi MaMa once in a while??

I love you, my little green eyed girl. I would do anything for you. All I'm asking for is a HI MAMA like you give Dada every day. Let's try it tonight when I get home, okay?

Much love, your tired and stressed out Mama