I love my husband's job for one main reason: it makes him really happy.
I love love love that he's blessed with a job that he enjoys. It's a privilege.
The thing I hate most about his job is that it requires him to travel.
I'm so excited that he gets the opportunity to travel, and I'm really proud of him.
I just really, really hate being left behind every time.
Last night he flew into NYC (first time he's ever been there.)
We had always hoped/daydreamed we'd be able to visit for the first time together (sigh.)
When he called last night he said "this would be so much more fun if you were here."
And of course I cried in the most unattractive, blubbering way.
Because he is really, really sweet and loving that man of mine.
And I am really very pregnant and emotional this week.
And I don't even know what the point of this post even is.
But I'm sure I'll look back on it in a couple of years and be like,
"Gosh I was a big whiny baby. Grow up already 27 year old me. Ugggh."
But I'm posting it anyway because, gosh darn it, I'm a pregnant mom with two crazy kids, and it's raining outside this morning so there goes our "wear the kids out at the park" plan of attack, and my husband's waking up in a beautiful hotel room in Manhattan this morning, and our kid that looks just like him woke me up at freakin' 6 AM, and why is it so hard for me to fall asleep when he's out of town, and man my back hurts, and now our other kid (who also looks just like him) is yelling at me from the bathroom to come wipe her bum.
I most definitely will regret this post.
(Apologies future much more mature me.)