Yesterday I told him, "You ought to try being pregnant. Even for a month. I wonder how you'd handle it." He laughs when I say things like that, but I can't help but wonder what my triathlon-competing fat-free man would look like with my pregnant belly.
Although I hadn't really eaten it in years, there's only one food item I've really, undeniably craved: CHEESE, specifically of the Colby Jack variety. I confess in a 48-hour period last month I ate an entire pound. By myself. I've done better lately about rationing, but ran out of Colby yesterday.
I never wanted to be one of those "send the husband at midnight for pickles" kind of pregnant ladies. Yet, last night I mentioned - in a more whiny way than I'd like to admit - how much I wanted more of my precious cheese after a long day of work and grad school class. Ryan's much too practical for frivolous midnight runs to the grocery store. Or so I thought. I woke up for my 3 a.m. bathroom wake-up, took a visit to the kitchen and discovered this gem in the fridge:
|"It's cheesy how much I love you." Oh, melt my heart!|
And for a couple months now, I keep finding all these little love notes around the house. Ryan knows I'm a "word person" and it means so much to me to see him taking time to love me how I love to be loved. A couple more:
|In our baby bassinet: "I love you Mommy"|
|On our office door: "You are wonderful to me" with our wedding announcement. Yep, I married a keeper.|