love letter for a friday

Dear Husband,
Hi. Remember me? I'm the needy brunette you married three years ago. I miss you and wish you could come home right now. I want to see you. Really see you. You know, without that romantic glow of the computer screen lighting your face or that attractive 'work-is-consuming-my-life' frenzy in your eyes. Can you make that happen?

Remember Emery? She's our adorable 18 month old. I don't like talking on the phone so I haven't been able to tell you all the crazy things she's been doing the last couple days. For instance, today at lunch she was taking spoonfuls of applesauce and wiping them on her face for the sole purpose of wiping it away with a napkin. Then, after lunch she used a washcloth and wiped away every surface she could imagine including the carpet, the walls and my back (in that order). All along she was singing "keen up, keen up". Enchanting, I know. Yesterday we played 'Ring around the Rosies" approximately 100 times and I thought I was getting vertigo. She demanded that we watch Barney & friends simultaneously. She didn't want to take my word for it that we (just the two of us) could actually play that game without Barney's help but she wasn't having it.

She misses you too. I already told you about her finding your computer mouse. Then when she was 'helping' me with laundry she would yell, "Daddy!" every time she picked up a shirt of yours and proceeded to squeeze it tightly!

I should make one things clear though. I am so proud of you. You know I appreciate staying home with Em and I know you work so hard. I also know somewhere in my brain that you would rather be with us than work. Sometimes I forget it in the moment; I think I misplaced it under all the neurosis and doubt. You amaze me with all the technical things that are far beyond my comprehension and understanding. You understand though and that is why you are so good at what you do. I am proud to have a husband that works hard and is in demand for his skills. That's hot, babe!

So, without further ado and on behalf of myself and our sweet girl; I have one plea. Come home. We would be much obliged.

Love, your wife