I hate when he works sundays, sundays are always breakfast day. Cuddle day. Spend time with the growing little boy in my belly day.
But one sunday a month I have to sit here and enjoy the cool breeze in our room by myself. I have to occupy my time with tiny laundry, netflix, idle conversations, showering & naps.
I’m allowed to complain all I want to. It’s hard letting those bright eyes, dark curls and that soft skin out of bed when all I want to do is feel his hands on my bump (the baby made SUCH a thump for him last night.) and talk about where we’re going to go for hashbrowns, and coffee adventures.
I’m a sad little miss.
Our first valentines day. <3
When we went to have dinner at my dads, we were all done up. I wore a dress and pretty earrings and he had a red polo on with his usual skinnies.
This is how I like us best. Freshly showered, snuggled and being stupid. Just being together and being us. There’s nothing better in this world.
The shirt I have on is the shirt I got from the Batman movie preview, the night we told all his closest friends that we’re having a baby. Every time I wear this that’s all I can think of.
Life is beautiful. <3
Abe just looked at me and said “I’m so lucky to have a girl like you”
I asked why, and he said “I don’t know, I just feel that way when I look at you.”
If any girl would like a clone of him, I’m working on it. I feel like the world needs more super-sweet, hard working, talented men/great dads-to-be. Might cost ya a hefty fee though.
The Postal Service, The Gaslight Anthem and Death Cab will always and forever make my heart swell now.
Any of those three may have been on when my child was conceived. They’ve been there for so many kisses, touches, longing gazes and feelings.
Recycled air by the postal service just came on and my little hairs stood on end. It makes me think of darkness, heartbeats and breathing.
And my darlings pretty eyes.
The only other album that will forever make me melty is Damnesia by Alkaline Trio. We played it on our first date, when his car was still noisy and I was shaky, almost speechless and completely flustered.
Oh, memories. <3
I love the new camera my honey got me for valentines day so much. It hardly ever leaves my hand these days.
Here are a few shots from today.
1.My view looking down. Mismatched sox, big ol’ belly.
2.My lunch. Microwave bean burrito, mini sweet pickles, a huge glass of whole milk (which I’m not supposed to have, oops.)
3.Missing hubz pretty bad today. Crazy outfit brought to you in part by venturing out in the cold to fix my truck. (which didn’t even happen.)
4.WHAT IS UP MESSY HAIR. Jesus, no wonder everyone in the gas station was looking at me funny. =/
I used the record player that my dad bought me for Christmas for the very first time today.
Here it is, playing my Ray LaMontagne record. I sung along like crazy while sorting through our laundry and tidying our room. I bought that record, originally, to be played in the baby’s room. I couldn’t help myself today though, regardless that I have his whole discography on my Spotify.
It sounded so good with the crisp crackles and pops in the silence between songs. I had the window open, the sun shining in and all the love in the world in my heart.
I love days like today.
(I also love my new camera that my amazing boy got me for valentines day. Canon Elph. So lovely!)
Made me cry the biggest tears ever on the way in today.
Never Grow Up came on the radio, on the local college station.
I was alone on the highway, in the fog.
And I don’t usually like Miss Swift.
But there I was, one hand on my belly, the other hand on my steering wheel with the biggest rolling tears splashing down my face into my lap.
All I could think of was this sweet baby bee in my belly, someday being a rebellious teen. Not needing me anymore. Moving out. Doing big things on their own. And I fell apart completely.
Someday, I’m not going to need to give baths or read stories or do tuck in time.
And it makes me feel like someone’s picking at my stitches and pulling me apart every time I think of it.
I need to savor every ounce of this pregnancy. Every single day. And every day of newborn-ness. Every hard night. Every little baby noise. Every smell. Everything.
Because when I wake up and I’m seeing a 16 year old version of myself bouncing out my front door, I may or may not implode.
Stupid Taylor Swift.