So yesterday Luke and I were coming home from some random errand, and I saw this old man with a 8 month preggo belly wearing tall black socks, tennies, shorts, a sleeveless shirt, a fanny pack (worn backwards, because that makes it all right), a sweat band, and head phones. You could tell that this was this first jog he had been on in, oh, 20 years or so, and it begged the question: Do you have a mirror? Do you have a wife (she should not have let him leave the house like that)? My heart immediatly felt sad for him, and then jumped to the thought "Cody better not ever. Ever. look like that. Even for a jog." If something ever happens to me and Cody is a widower trying to get back into the game, please someone come and lay out work out clothes for him. Okay, whew. The burden is off me and now on you.
Today Luke and I didn't leave the house at all, and it was so nice. I like to just stay home every few days just to let him play and eat as needed. This first month of my official SAHM status has been fantastic. At the end of the day I feel so fulfilled knowing my house is in order, I have provided nourishment for my family, and given my kid the attention he deserves from his mother. I don't ever go to bed ready for the next day to be over already. Although, Luke is cutting a back molar right now, and so he hasn't been quite the pleasent child he once was. Hopefully soon I will have my sweet content boy back. But even though he has been a whiney booger lately, the kid still melts my heart every day. I found out on FB just a few minutes ago that my friend is pregnant with a little boy, and for some reason hearing about her little boy made me even prouder of my little boy. Is that weird? I love him so much it hurts sometimes, I look at him and think I might physically burst. But in a good way.
Who couldn't love this beautiful face?!