I waited for it.  I could have settled for less.  But I waited.  And it was worth it.  

He is the best.  God’s best.  For me.  

I often wonder if people really understood how tough marriage can be, would they go through with it?  So many quit just before it gets good.  There is a sweet certain something about having weathered something fierce together that tightens the marital bond.  And believe me, there have been moments.  Curve balls come.  Finances get tight.  Sleepless nights ensue.  But he is there.  And he loves me.  And he models His greater love for me.  

And it works.  

It’s our favorite time of year.  And time to celebrate something special.  It’s our date-a-versary.  

Twelve years.

And it’s time he had a name.  Of course, he has a given name, but as of yet, in the blogosphere he has only been known “Sweet Hubby” or “Dear “Hubby” or any other cheesy sort of moniker I can conjure up at the given moment.  Of course, my girls are known as Peanut, Ladybug, and Lovey… but hubby?  I have no idea.  I have been thinking on this for some time and continually draw a blank.

Naturally, there are the ridiculously sweet sort of names such as Honey Buns, Pookie Bear, and
Love Muffin, but I don’t think I want to go there.

He is unwaveringly devoted to technology and all things computer-related, but “Mr. Roboto” doesn’t seem to jive with me. 

He is hopelessly analytical, but “Anal” doesn’t seem the best way to go here, either.

He is enthusiastically drawn to all things outdoors.  He is a man in every sense of the word.  Tall, strapping, handsome, and makes-me-weak-at-the-knee rugged.  Perhaps, that would suit him best:  The Man.    

My dearest, you are heretofore known as “The Man.”  As if you needed any confirmation.

Happy Date-A-Versary!  

(See Creature Comforts)

  Love & Coffee.

Pssssst.  

Please, don’t tell my calendar I am here.  It scares me.  

I am officially in hiding.  I have gone a little AWOL as of late.  And every precious moment of down time I can wrangle has been devoted to my sweet angels.  (That would also include my hubby.) 

How did September get like this?  October isn’t shaping up to be any better.  So I embrace the fullness of life and make the most of every moment.  Sans caffeinated coffee.

I would also like to take this moment to state that my hubby is a rock star.  Numero uno:  He has resigned himself to decaf coffee for the duration of this pregnancy.  He claims it’s for health reasons, but I think he secretly loves me.  A lot.  Point #2:  After 4 days without hot water, that smokin’ hunk of a man fixed the water heater.  Fact three:  He bought me ice cream.

He.  Is.  My.  Hero.

Peanut is way too smart for her britches (she has bested me in science, but please, don’t tell her that), Ladybug lost her second tooth (popped right out onto the table at breakfast last week), and Lovey continues to eat my deodorant (I stumbled onto her secret stash hidden behind the futon in the spare bedroom today).  *sigh* 

In the meantime, I am thoroughly enjoying the cooler fall temperatures and feeling especially inspired to whip up all kinds of tasty food.  I have a whole slew of new recipes to post soon.

I also have a freezer full of deer meat and nary an idea what to do with it.  I am open to suggestions, should anyone have some.

Love & Coffee.

Patriot Day.

I am out of words really.  Tears speak louder these days.  Still so fresh.  I cried all morning as I watched the news footage.  Again.  

I cried all yesterday as I searched for some sort of age-appropriate activity or video to help my little ones commemorate this day.  In the end, it was better to just speak from my heart.  And show them a few photos.  And honor the heroes of the day.  

And, of course, squeeze them tightly with lots of kisses.

Peanut asked, “Were there children on those planes?”  Ladybug bravely stated, “If I saw a terrorist, I would beat them up and kick them in an important place.”  Lovey just kept coloring.

My heart is sad, yet full of hope for the future.  

I do not think I can recount the rush of emotion from that day any better than I did in last year’s post.  (I Remember.)  Still feels like yesterday.

So undeniably proud to be an American. 

Love & Coffee.

40 weeks yet?  *sigh*  No?

I admit this pregnancy is positively crawling along.  

I’m tired.  Dog tired.  Pregnant at 33 is a heck of a lot different than pregnant at 25.  Perhaps it’s my age or perhaps it’s simply the fact that I have three lovelies to chase around all day long.  Any way you slice it, I’m tired.  

Or it could be that I have successfully (well, mostly) kicked my caffeine habit for the time being.  (Except a couple of nights ago when I absolutely went crazy and had a lovely cup of coffee with dinner and found myself still wide awake playing Yahtzee on my Kindle at 2:30 am.  Bad choice.)  

 New rule.  If I must cave to the caffeine, it must occur before noon.  Period.  No exceptions.  End of story.

I have been waiting for that mythical second trimester energy boost to kick in.   

Still waiting.   

Mythical, I tell you.  

The good news is that after eight days of a nasty virus making the rounds here at home, we are finally well.  Finally.  

And I am nesting.  Early, I know, but nesting just the same.  I cleaned the rugs, scrubbed and polished the wood floors, reorganized the utility room and the pantry, and formulated a plan of attack for the rest of the house.

Come to think of it… maybe that’s why I’m so tired.

Either way. 

I’m tired.   

Love & Coffee.