Dear Jay,
Happy Anniversary! As per the usual, we are coming home from vacation today and I'll be back to work tonight, but I daresay that this year is so, SO much better than last year. RIGHT? 
You know it is, I know it is. This year, man, it finally feels like it's happening. It's all been such baby steps for our careers, family, friends, and I think we're in this groove, now, you and I, I really do.
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Jay pretty much talks to Beck nonstop. When they're together and I'm working or doing other stuff he just chatters away to her, and usually she rewards him with coos and smiles, which means he keeps doing it. We're only 2 months in, but the gems that have come out of that man so far are quite the force to be reckoned with. I imagine that when Beck starts talking she'll think that it's completely normal to narrate the world 24/7 with no breaks even to breathe, but I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
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Guys, it's the last day of the year. Can you even believe it? It seems like five seconds ago that we were welcoming our neighbor's baby into the world and having a really quiet little NYE at our place with food and friends this time last year. This year we're a family of THREE, we're having an even more quiet NYE, and it's been just the best year. Also, as of about 6 weeks ago I was still writing 2014 on hospital forms, so let's see how long it takes 2016 to sink in! Probably until 2020. 
Stop, please, time. kthanks.
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The phrase, “zero to sixty” is usually reserved for the automotive industry. It typically describes how quickly a certain car can accelerate to sixty miles an hour. However, on rare occasions it can accurately illustrate how fast a man can move when awakened by his wife saying, “Honey, I’m in labor. We gotta get up and go.” I couldn’t have hopped out of bed faster if I had springs mounted on my ass. Like a bullet from a gun I was propelled into reality at break-neck speed. “Oh shit! What can I do? How are you feeling? Did your water break? Oh shit! What the fuck!?” All of those questions came racing off my tongue while running in place. If I were Fred Flinstone, there would have been a plumb of smoke peeling off my feet. We were off to the races.
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