Ode to my husband.
For taking care of my sick butt, there’s no measure for that. When I wanted to take a nap you realized that wasn’t code for anything and merely a chance for me to pass out in our comfy bed child free, interruption free. When I repeatedly said I wasn’t hungry you insisted I eat something and made me super delicious french toast. (Sure Claire had to partake, but it WAS three huge pieces.) You bring me Luca when it’s time for him to eat. You changed Claire’s poopy diaper when the smell was almost too much for me to take.
You have yet to tell me I look like crap.
I reheated the soup I made yesterday for you and you acted like I cooked it from scratch again. You didn’t call me a grandma when I went to bed at 8:30 last night. You took Luca from me just now because he was beginning to fuss. You made me laugh. You made fun of the guy cheerleaders, calling them the “Gayvins.” You put dinner together in the crock pot because I was too dizzy to stand for that long. You even made up a song for Luca when he was getting cranky, and while it made him cry even louder, it made me laugh. You then played Luca’s bum like a bongo and further made me laugh and Luca drool.
For letting me lay here and be overdramatic while you run the household, thank you. Enjoy your football…you deserve it.
Oh, and a quick shout-out to the dog for licking up Luca’s spitup off the carpet. Many thanks, Sadie-dog.