There are husbands, and then there are husbands.
The kind of husband who takes on a fussy, gassy, 12 day old newborn and his mama's boy brother so his wife can have a minute alone to see the core duo of one of her all time favorite bands is just ridiculous. The kind of husband that plans such an outing to surprise his wife (who wasn't even remotely aware that said duo was in town) just doesn't exist. Except that he does. And he's mine.
Also, this is that rare moment when living across the street from a live music bar proves advantageous. 99% of the time we curse the sloppy drunks and sloppier musicians.
Right now I'm just trying to wrap my head around wearing a non-maternity outfit that doesn't have to coordinate with my Moby Wrap, and hoping that the unwashed state of my hair comes off as emo irreverence. Mostly, as much as I crave time by myself, I'm wishing ZB could be my date tonight. Because he's the best. Even if he refuses to be pictured on his wife's blog.
Darth Vapor Strikes Again (And Again)
1 day ago