That crazy little thing called love...

On my way to work today, with my daughter chatting happily to me from the backseat, it hit me, like it does often enough, how much I absolutely love my baby girl.  She's smiling at me and singing and for those few moments that it takes for us to get from the house to daycare are so bitter sweet because while it is our time together, it is so brief and then it's off to work I go.  I ache, when I leave her at daycare and head to the job site, even though I know as soon as I leave the building, she is already playing with her friends and having fun.

She's checking out the water. :)

Now, you have all already met my two dogs, Rowdy and Leah.  Funny story, Rowdy definitely belongs to my baby girl and Leah to my husband.  After my baby goes to bed at night is when I get some attention from the dogs and I think it's only because I'm the one that goes to bed first and they like that.  After I get cozy in bed, updating my blog on my laptop, Rowdy will jump and lay next to me (taking up m husband's side of the bed) and Leah will plop down, very dramatically, on the opposite side of the floor, sticking her head underneath the bed for reasons I have never been able to understand.  So, even though they both can frustrate the life out of me when at five in the morning and my alarm is going off and they are both so happy to wake up and start the day (I mean, come on - at least let me get some coffee first), I still love them.  I feel that even when Rowdy absconds with one of my shoes, just one; and Leah pouts at me because she wants attention.

There are so many husband stories, I had to narrow down to just one.  (He'll appreciate this...I think.)  On our recent celebration trip to Austin (birthday and anniversary), we were getting ready for a really fancy dinner and my husband decided that this was the prime time to eat one very large cinnamon roll.  Now, it was a celebration, so I figured he could do whatever he wanted and I would curb my "mom voice" which wanted to say, "You're going to spoil your dinner."  Not only did he spoil his dinner at our fancy restaurant, he made himself downright sick.  I honestly thought at one point he was going to have to duck out of there and make a run for the bathroom.  Thankfully, the restaurant was in our hotel, so he wouldn't have had to run far, but how could you not smile at this situation.  We gracefully declined dessert since someone already had his, and we departed for our room so he could rest.  To my husband, my knight in shining armor who swept me off my feet, I love you.  More than you can know or measure.

He's hiding. :)