I Married a Gypsy Boy

I love my husband.

So much.

And if possible, since getting pregnant, I've grown to love him even more.

Being a whiny, hormonal lady has this miraculous way of bringing out your significant other's true colors. And boy, my man is shining brilliantly these days.

Unrelated, but my cute gypsy boy also plays the drums on occasion ;)

Take for instance our phone conversation this evening on my way home from work. I have a one hour commute, so I usually call him when I get off to occupy myself for a bit. Anywho, on this particular evening, I had spent my entire 10+ hour working day wearing a bra that I mistakenly thought my preggo monster boobs could still fit into. Did I mention the word, "mistaken?"

My back has been hurting me a lot these past couple weeks and today during my lunch break I realized I was sitting all slumped over which could perhaps be contributing to my sore back. I already have terrible posture as it is, but it seems like the combined weight of aforementioned monster boobs and my ever-growing belly continues to weigh me down.

Our conversation this evening was focused on this newly realized epiphany and went something like this:

Kaity: I'm like Quasimodo!

Chuck: But you're the prettiest Quasimodo in the whole world!

Kaity: And you're my Esmeralda!

Chuck: That's right, I'm your gypsy boy and I'll play my tambourine and shake my gold coins for you.

This guy cracks me up.

And everyday he somehow makes me love him more.