super spouse

It's Super Bowl Sunday, and while I couldn't care less about football, my husband loves it. It's pretty much the only thing he gets visibly excited about, and that's only around August when it's about to start up. So, in honor of my husband, whom I wanted to write about in this post, I've come up with this pretty lame title. But honestly, he is super (and I'm mentally rolling my eyes imagining the inflection he would give that if he said it aloud right now). Most of the time I think I don't deserve him, and I'm eternally grateful to him for loving me, and to God for bringing (and keeping) him into my life.

Now, it may be the pregnancy hormones kicking into overdrive, but there honestly is a reason to sing my husband's praises right now. Since Wednesday morning, he has been downright miserable (physically). He seems to have a horrible, no good, very bad cold that's been going around, one that was accompanied by a slight fever the first night. One that twice tempted him to stay home from hockey, and even my crying, ranting, and raving when I'm in one of those moods can't do that (although, come to think of it, I'd be wanting to get away at that point, too). And while he hasn't been the most pleasant person to live with while he's in this condition--he does get cranky sometimes--his first concern has been for me. I told you a few days ago that he called me from work wanting me to take echinacea so that I wouldn't get sick. But since then, he's asked if I can take cold medicine (you can if you're careful) in case I do get sick, saying that I'm already feeling miserable enough and he doesn't want me to have to go through a cold on top of it; he's instructed me not to use one of our two throw blankets since he's cuddled under it; he's refused to kiss me goodnight or goodbye in the mornings (I miss that); he's generally refused to touch me; and if he does touch me (or I touch him) or breathe, cough, etc. on me, he instructs me to keep my hands away from my face and wash them immediately. If I was sick? I'd be a big baby, whining constantly, asking him to do stuff for me and wishing my mom were still alive to take care of me. My husband is a good man.

The way Al has reacted to his sickness, miserable as he is, has made me a better person, too. I actually talked him out of doing work in the baby's room and around the house despite my eagerness to get everything done and set in place. I insisted that he rest on Thursday and not do anything, and it just goes to show how bad he felt by agreeing to do so. He did work Friday, but confessed when he came home that he shouldn't have; it just made him feel worse. We rested Friday night and were in bed by 9:30 pm. He slept til almost 11:00 am yesterday and did want to make a trip to Home Depot after brunch so he could buy a heat register cover for the baby's room, so we did do that (ended up buying trim, too), but once we got home he plopped down on the couch, me at the computer then the recliner, and we relaxed until time to go to church and our friend Matt's birthday dinner (hibachi--I had never eaten it and found it absolutely delicious; too bad I couldn't try the sushi). He was exhausted by the time we got home so I made him cookies while he took a shower (he likes cookies and milk before bed). Today, I'm just planning on doing what I can to prepare for baby and not worrying about the rest--I'll start the sewing I need to do, including the crib bumper, curtains, and chair pads.

Al's illness has turned me into such a good wife that I offered to leave the Super Bowl party we're attending at our friends' house if he doesn't feel up to attending when he gets off work (at 7:00 pm). Of course, this is wishful thinking. It's not that I don't want to attend, just that--ugh--it's football. I'll probably be the only one who doesn't care about the game. And if he does feel that bad, I'll feel bad for him. Anyway. Off to sewing.