Because when I come home from a long day at work, feeling like I’m going to throw up at any moment (thank you hospital food), he will be right there, rubbing my back and running up and down the stairs with new cold compresses for my neck. And I’ll tell him to get out of the bathroom, but he won’t. Instead he’ll continue to rub my back and bring me ice cold water to sip as I pitifully moan that baby is not helping the situation. (She seemed to think it was a fun game to punch mommy in the stomach while mommy tried really hard not to throw up). And even though my nastiness totally ruined our Sunday night movie date, husband won’t complain at all. Instead he’ll just tell me that the movie will still be there next weekend and ask what else he can bring me.
Lessons learned from this: 1. My husband continues to amaze me with his love 2. Hubs is totally on puke duty when noodle gets sick because he’s obviously so much better at this then me. And 3. Hospital food sucks.