My husband is a trooper

The home stretch has some benefits. Last night at the Hawkeye gymnastics meet, Bill and our friend, Brian whose family was with us, both went to get me a soft ice cream cone at two different times. Brian's daughter, Taylor, commented that "she sure eats a lot" :-) I couldn't help myself; it is just so tasty. Though feeling Lucas kick and move around my belly kind of freaks Bill out, we have divided up some parenting tasks. He said he can do diapers and vomit but I'm on for the rest-- right now that doesn't seem like that bad of a deal :-) I am getting plenty of back rubs and foot rubs and Bill has been regulated to about 1/2 foot of the bed because I need a lot of pillows in the attempt to try to sleep comfortably. Now he ties my shoes. And he bought me flowers for Valentine's Day delivered to work to make everyone jealous. And he gave me his Twix bar from his snack on the way home from England. And he hasn't complained. He has been a trooper. I have been irritable and tired and lazy and grumpy and he continues to wear a smile and serve me well. And all the times I think he is being a bad husband, uncaring to my delicate state it is just me being a grump and not him. He probably is counting down 9 weeks in his head until I can stop complaining about being fat, unable to move or sleep or roll over in bed. That's ok I'm counting down too.