Since I really don't want to come across as the most bitter pregnant woman to ever walk to the earth, I have decided to take this time to write a heartfelt, lovey dovey blog about my pregnancy so far.
In the midst of feeling exhausted and gross, I realized just how lucky I am to have my husband. I've always been lucky to have him (which I don't tell him nearly enough) but he has really stepped up and dealt with a lot from me over the past weeks.
Case in point: The Chicken Incident.
He calls to tell me he's bringing something home for dinner. Oh thank you sweet baby Jesus that I don't have to cook. The options are KFC, Taco Bell or Wendy's. KFC is fine but I wish it was Popeye's. Fast forward 40 minutes. Where the heck is he? In walks the most perfect husband with the most perfect bag of Popeye's goodness. He went wellllllll out of his way just to pick up fried chicken and biscuits from Popeye's since he knows KFC is not my first choice.
He is awesome.
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