Day 28.

Dear New Husband,

What a great Saturday spent apart!

I feel like that sounds weird and perhaps slightly insensitive and cold. But I think a misconception many people have is that you spend every waking moment with your spouse and never need a moment alone again.

But the individual-ness and the together-ness must both be balanced and enjoyed. These are things you already know, but I know I need to write it down so I remember how necessary it truly is.

I am so enjoying seeing you become a part of my family. And enjoying that you love my family's kooky and zoo-y sense of humor as much as I do while we're laughing so hard we're crying whilst playing Apples to Apples.

I love you,

Your New Wife.

Day 27.

Dear New Husband,

I enjoyed spending time with you and my family today. Strolling around outside - not a place to be or a care in the world.

Today was so relaxing and I enjoy you getting to be a part of my family and celebrating important holidays with us. Such as my birthday. And Easter too. . . Do I need to go back and put Easter first? I think that's okay. That's not sacrilegious, right?

You are the best and I am enjoying these uneventful days with you!

I love you,

Your New Wife.

Day 26.

Dear New Husband,

How do I make it a point to bring Mad Libs and then not have any writing utensils?! Lame pants.

But I still throughly enjoyed our road trip today; solid quality time to just be together - whether talking or not talking. I cherish those moments so much with you and I'm so glad I get them with you.

And now I'm going to crash into a King sized bed. Because I want to savor not having to share a Queen. Because now I can sleep with the knowledge that you are nearby without feeling you nearby :)

I love you,

Your New Wife who sleeps like she lives: Spastically.

Day 25.

Dear New Husband,

I apologize that I become a giant baby. . . Well wait. I am 5'2". I hardly think you can count that as giant. How about 'overgrown' baby? That sounds better. Anyway, I am sorry I become an overgrown baby when I stub my baby of a toe on the wheel of your suitcase. I wanted to slap a kitten. And thanks for not being too annoyed when you brought me a band aid and I said: "That band-aid is too big for my baby toe." How atrocious.

I'm glad you found my note to you in your sock drawer. You know how horrible I am at keeping surprises secret. Because if you had packed your things to go visit my parents without looking in your sock drawer, I would've made up awkwardly random reasons for you to rummage in your sock drawer. And that just would've been uncomfortable for the both of us.

I'm so excited to have a mini-roadtrip with you this weekend (Don't worry, I already packed the Mad Libs) and to show you my most favorite of museums. And for you to meet the Layla dog. I'm clenching this as a win for us to get a dog. I've already told her that she has to be on her best behavior so we can win you over to the dog lover side. My sister-in-law has even said she may even spring for a new collar for Layla, just to win you over. The jig is up pal, you might as well raise the white flag now.

I love you,

Your New Wife who loves leaving you sweet notes, in your sock drawer, regarding otters and how much she loves you.

Day 24.

Dear New Husband,

I know all the enrollment nonsense with graduate school has got me in a funk; I'm incredibly bummed that I'm going to be missing our home group for the entire summer. But you have been encouraging and let me rant - two things a woman needs. Especially this woman.

As we continue to navigate new changes, which will occur for the rest of our lives, I hope we can always remember that we are each others cheering section and on the same side. And a few new treats from Ikea put salve on the frustration of botched enrollment.

I love you,

Your New Wife who is so pleased with how her birthday week is going.

PS - I really cannot tell you how glad I am to be sitting next to you on the couch, watching Downton Abbey. Mrs. O'Brien is suuuuuuuspect!

Day 23.

Dear New Husband,

You know how I know you love me? You spent the evening celebrating birthday week with me, complete with dinner at a wine bar and listening to the Dallas Symphony Orchestra's Brass Quintet, instead of eating wings, drinking brewski's (Is that still a thing? Brewski's?) and watching the end of the madness of March. What a hunk.

I'm so glad I married a man that looks at sweet baby-faced, 18-year-old college students who are so awkward and you're just as endeared as I am to them. I almost wanted to adopt that 18-year-old college Freshman at the concert tonight. . . That would've been too far, right?

No, seriously. Would it have been? I'm seriously contemplating this.

No. No. Boundaries. Too far, Liz. Too far.

I love you,

Your New Wife who may have an adopted 18-year-old boy for you to come home to instead of an adopted 3-year-old dog.

Day 22.

Dear New Husband,

We have successfully budgeted for March and the beginning of April and we have successfully grocery shopped for the beginning of April. I feel empowered. Like we could take Dallas down, one manufacturer coupon at a time.

Thank you for taking care of me when I was hangry (That's when I'm so hungry, I'm angry/irritable) and for actually loving Downton Abbey as much as I do. In fact, right now, per your suggestion you're at Target, buying Season 2 so we can watch it tonight. Even though you don't like Gilmore Girls as much as I do, I'll take your love of Downton Abbey. Because right now, I feel so blessed that you appreciate PBS Masterpiece Theater and British Dramas as much as I do. You're the best. And I hope you know, everyday, that I think that.

I love you,

Your New Wife that will probably faint if you end up liking Doctor Who.