A Ten Dollar Bet & A Dream

So, thirty-five years ago today, my love was born. His dad bet his mom ten bucks he'd be a boy, and even though rumor has it that his mother never paid up, I sure am glad he was right. 7 pounds, 11 ounces. When Eva yawns, she looks just like him, and when I look at her feet, I think about how his feet were once that small. This time last year, we were newlyweds, and I couldn't imagine loving him more. Now, even when I'm half-crazed from no sleep and bouncing the baby up and down so she won't cry, even when I'm standing in the kitchen hooked to the breast pump and haven't showered in at least day, I feel such an intense love for him that I can't remember my life without him. So, happy birthday, my love. I sure am glad you don't read this blog because I know how you feel about sap...