And still no husband. Poop. Work is a cruel mistress, but work must get done. And we are so very thankful that our daddy has a job that occasionally keeps him late at night, for at least he has a job.
As I sit here with a hand on my full and rapidly growing belly, I am thinking of things that made my day a little sunnier.
...This face...
... The question from Jackson, "Mom, can you use your cutterinkers
to get the skin off my apple please?"...
...This surely tacky but oh-so-cute memory of a three-year-old
who can put on his underoos all. by. himself. ..
...The thought that the most handsome man in the world will shortly walk through that front door, happy to, at last, be home...
1 comment:
What a sweet post Jennifer. Love the photo of Jackson in his Underoos! (You sound extremely organized!)
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