(SPOILER ALERT: No baby yet.)
You know, I've been making fun of my husband a lot around here. And honestly, he probably only deserves...eh, let's say about a third of it. (THE SWING. THE SWINNNNNNGGGGGG.)
The rest is a combination of good-natured ribbing and the natural reaction to seeing your partner up and relatively spry and able to function like a normal human being while you loll around on the couch, grunting like a beached whale, wishing you had the ability to whip other people into a nesting-like frenzy using only the power of your MIND, like, seriously? Would it kill you to install the car seat already? I know you SAY it can wait until the baby is born and you'll do it on the way to pick us up at the hospital but I WOULD FEEL BETTER IF I COULD SEE IT DONE AHEAD OF TIME SO THAT I MAY FUSS AT AND CRITICIZE YOUR ABILITIES IN THE PRIVACY OF OUR OWN DRIVEWAY.
But really, Jason has been so, so great. Flowers for no reason. A constantly replenished stash of my favorite bath thingies from Lush. Back rubs and belly kisses and moving heaven and earth to make sure he never misses a karate class or swimming lesson with the boys because the man just freaking adores his kids and being a dad. He has brought me every possible food item I have craved, from boxed chocolates to ice cream to Indian food to burritos to matzo ball soup to deli pickles to this one fancy kind of imported Italian olive that's really hard to find but he tracked it down and bought two giant jars of them. He's made homemade chocolate pudding and tray after tray of brownies and one time I was like, "mmmm risotto" and BAM, he was up and making me some risotto.
He's put on more weight than I have, since I always puked up a significant portion of all those delicious, high-fat cravings, and he had no such difficulty.
And I don't even know where to begin with everything he did for me when...you know. The stuff with my dad. That whole...thing. When my dad died.
(Hellooooo mental compartmentalization! Welcome to Topics Amy Hasn't Really Been Dealing With For Awhile That Occasionally Are Like, OH YEAH, FUCK, STILL HURTS LIKE ALL HELL, MOVING ON.)
And! Here's the other thing: Back in January, Jason slipped while carrying Ezra down the stairs. He did that thing you do, when you have no choice but to protect the child in your arms at all costs, and took the full brunt of the fall, smack dab BAM, right in his lower back.
It never healed, and after MONTHS of getting waved off by various doctors, he got an MRI. Which revealed a pretty significant injury to a couple discs in his back. His doctor advised surgery. Jason said no, he can't have the surgery yet, because I am pregnant and need him. And then I'm going to have a baby and I will need him. So no three-week-recovery period is going to work, just yet. He's been getting by with physical therapy and medications, until the time comes when he decides that I won't need him quite so much.
(For the record, I told him to have the surgery if he felt he needed it, because clearly he's been in a terrible amount of pain and that sucks and I will ABSOLUTELY SURVIVE. But he prefers to wait and try the less-invasive measures first anyway. Which are working pretty well! As evidenced by his ability to get up in the attic and LOOK FOR MISSING SWING PARTS AT LEAST IN THE HYPOTHETICAL SENSE.)
In other words, my husband is deserving of all kinds of hyperbolic adjectives. But he'd rather me mostly post "funny" stuff about how he's deliberately annoying the crap out of me re: his refusal to get sucked into my wormhole of nesting insanity than get all goopy and embarrassing about him on the Internet.
(Though he DID install all those nice closet organizers. SAINT! HEAVEN-SENT! AMAZING! A GOD AMONG MEN!)
I ordered myself a pair of necklaces a few months ago (during a previously-mentioned Emotional Etsy Rampage). I wanted something with the kids' initials on it, and decided to go with this one from Soul Peaces, with three tiny stars and a crescent moon. And then...I splurged and bought a second version, with just one star, because there are four people I wanted represented. Who deserved to be represented, no matter what other manner of nonsense you may have read about them on the Internet.
From top, left to right, the stars are stamped J for Jason, N for Noah, E for Ezra and HA HA YEAH RIGHT LIKE YOU'RE GETTING THAT OUT OF ME THAT EASY.