Some of the endearing things he does that make me love him more and more:

He is thoughtful and likes to surprise me. Last week he showed up at the door after work with several bags in hand. He had just done all the grocery shopping for me (definitely not one of his favorite things to do) and bought me all the little things he knows I like. He also regularly has surprises waiting for me at home, like: washed dishes, cleaned laundry, or the sandwich and fruit popsicles I mentioned craving the day before,


Yesterday, after mowing nine yards in 105F+ heat, he took me to the store so I could look at maternity clothes, bought me two shirts, then led me over to the baby clothes to look at teeny tiny outfits together (We also decided to have an impromptu date night at a new restaurant in the neighborhood, then went to the theater to see Inception with some free movie tickets. It’s as good as everyone says – go see it).


He regularly pretends his wedding band is “The One Ring to Rule Them All”



For the past three months I’ve been sleeping on the futon in the living room. Not that I don’t want to be snuggled with Matthew all night, but I’ve become such a light sleeper that any time he turned over I would wake up. At first he stayed in the bedroom by himself, but now he’s moved into the living room to be with me. Not on the futon though, no. He lets me have that all to myself while he takes the pillows off of the little love seat, arranges them on the floor with blankets, and sleeps at the foot of the futon next to me every night (and it always remind me of Micheal Scott sleeping on the tiny bench – except I don’t make him do this!)


Last night he had trouble sleeping. After awhile he decided to sit on the porch balcony and I looked up to see him waging some sort of battle out there against a giant cockroach with a spray bottle full of vinegar. The poor guy then fell over a small aluminum table and manged to scrape and bruise both knees, an elbow, his wrist, and both hands. He has since been wallowing in his little injuries and declared them his “war wounds”.

Every time he tries to stand up from his little makeshift bed on the floor he moans and groans and scoots slowly across the floor because he can’t use his hands or knees to help himself up.

Him: “It’s a good thing I’m a tough little soldier.”

Me: “Aw, Baby, you make me laugh”

Him:“Oh, good. I’m glad you laugh after I’m injured in battle”

And that’s just a little glimpse into why I love this guy so darn much.


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