Okay, what the heck is going on in there? I am sick to death of being sick to death, and this has to stop! Are you on a permanent coffee break or something?

You started sleeping on the job when I was pregnant, and I was willing to cut you a little slack based on the reasoning that you would bounce back to normal after the baby was born. I hate to be too much of a nag, but the baby is fast approaching eighteen months old. Are you planning on returning to work sometime before he learns to read? Seriously, you weren't eligible for a maternity leave, let alone one quite so extended.

I can't fire or replace you, so you do have me at a disadvantage. Maybe you could tell me what I have to do to make this relationship work again. I've taken all the Vitamin C I can stomach, and nothing I do makes you happy.

Enough is enough.

Oh, my. You've seduced me back into your fold, and you don't seem to have held a grudge at all. I know that I had a legitimate reason for giving you up - embryos aren't fond of your caffeiney goodness - but I do so appreciate that you've waited around so patiently and pleasantly for my return.

I'll be seeing you on a more regular basis from now on, I think. I even bought a new travel mug for your increased comfort. I hope you like it.

I appreciate how happy you are to be home and to have my undivided attention once more. I can tell from your grin and your happy little dances that you're a pleased little boy. Trust me when I say that I, too, am grateful to be home once more.

Please do bear in mind, however, that a return to home means a return to the status quo and to normal household chores. Mommy sometimes has to mop floors, wash dishes, and cook dinner, and she can't really do that if you're clinging to her knees and demanding to nurse every ten minutes. I'm happy to play trains with you, but I can't do it all day long. Believe me when I say that I wish I could.

Hopefully when this dratted cold leaves me alone again, I'll have more patience and be better able to balance the running of the house with your playtime desires. For now, I'm doing my best. Forgive me for losing my temper?

Guys, I know how much you love your grandson, and I can fully appreciate that you want to make the most of your time with him. That's my goal, too, and I hate that we live so far apart that every visiting moment has to be stretched so far. When we're together, I'm more than happy to allow you as much latitude as you want in tending to his needs - dressing, bathing, feeding.

I say this, then, with love in my heart: next time you guys get the desire to feed Sam two large cups of orange Jello, you'd darn well better stick around to change the subsequent dirty diaper. Good God, what a sight.

Yes! After last year's crummy record, I am so, so proud to be able to claim allegiance to my alma mater once more. (Not that I ever claimed otherwise, but you know what I mean.) Thank you Coach Rodriguez. Thank you, Rasheed Marshall. Thank you, Avon Cobourne. And thanks to the rest of the team.

Now, let's really put to rest the old joke about West Virginia's resemblence to marijuana (and how you both get smoked in Bowls). Got it?

I'm working so hard to be able to thank you for everything. You know that's been a little goal of mine as of late, and I think that I've been doing a pretty good job.

Today has been one big setback, and I feel awful. Thankful? I've been a regular Negative Nancy, I'm afraid, and quite the potty-mouth to boot. If I could just get one good, deep breath through my nose, I'd be a happier camper, but as it is, I'm just too down to be positive. A cranky baby, a blowy snowstorm, and a cluttered house are all working to make me miserable. What I need is a great big hug.

Thank you for giving me Eric to fill that need.

(See, I can be thankful.)

November's WordGoddess collaboration: "Write letters."