Dear Justin Bieber, I LOVE you!

Dear Justin Bieber,

I’m sitting at my laptop computer … trying to find the words to tell you how much you mean to me now. But, I can’t. I’m sorry. My kids are on the verge of starting World War III in the living room over a chair.

My husband is yelling at me to clean the kitchen. (I actually cooked tonight and you were there with me!)

And all I want to do is escape into a world that only revolves around you and your new album, “Purpose.”

Is it too late now to say I’m sorry?

I’m sorry that I it took me so long to become a “Belieber.”

I’m sorry that you are a mere 21-year-old with the sculpted body of a Greek God and I’m just a 37-year-old mom of three with my unwashed hair tied back with a pony-tail rubber-band, a face sans make-up wearing a hoodie and yoga pants.

I’m sorry.

Yes, you heard me correctly … I am a 37 year old mom of three kids who has simply fallen in love with you within a matter of days.

The blame falls on the American Music Awards I watched on Nov. 22 while folding a mountain of laundry. Socks, underwear, t-shirts, jeans have never been folded so quickly while you serenaded me. I was in heaven watching you dance in the rain … when I try to dance in the rain, I end up looking like a drowned rat but somehow you made it look sexy as hell. You were even fully dressed and I was still glued to my HD television, watching the rain cascade off your body.

My husband thinks I am delusional. He only likes musical groups from the 1980s … that was before you were born. Plus, he’s 40, so he doesn’t understand you like I do.

Your new album, “Purpose” has given me a new purpose in life …

I dance around my house, with my Bose speaker blaring as I roam from room to room with a dust rag in one hand and a can of Pledge in another.

Dinner time has become somewhat pleasurable as I continue my performance in front of my twins who have deemed me the “WORST DANCER EVER” as I moved from leg to leg doing my own rendition of “What Do You Mean?”

Your music has provided a bond between my almost 13-year-old son and me. He isn’t a fan of your new album, but that doesn’t stop me from signing out lyrics at the top of my lungs as I drop him off to basketball practice. Today, we actually communicated when I was driving my mini-van.

“Mom! This song sucks!” he quipped.

“OH, I’m sorry … What do you mean?” I asked him.

It was a two-second conversation that I will hold in my heart forever.

Thank you!

If you are ever in Ohio … look me up and “I’ll Show You” around town!


Mom of Three Living in BFE