When I logged in yesterday, I happened to mention to Matt that I'd forgotten to bring my rice sock to work, as I'd meant to. (It's a sock full of rice. You put it in the microwave for a minute, and it's a heat pack for about 20 minutes.)

Matt said, "I forgot my lunch. Do you want me to bring your sock to you when I go home to get it?"

"Sure," I said. I'd been thinking about going home around lunchtime to get it, myself.

But Matt went home at 9 instead of at lunchtime, and the net result was that I had lovely soothing heat for my back for the whole day.

But wait! There's more!

He's been offering to do things like go to the grocery store without me for months now. I told him I was saving it all up for the last month or so, when I'd really not feel like doing anything. And my back was hurting enough without being on my feet for any length of time. So I cashed in one of those offers yesterday, and sent him to the grocery store by himself.

We have this running joke about me buying doughnuts at the grocery store. We'll walk by the little shelf of Krispy Kreme, and I'll say, "We need some doughnuts." And Matt will say, "No, I don't think so. It's not on the list."

Every now and then, I'll put "doughnuts" on the list. And when Matt checks over the list to make sure I haven't forgotten anything (because I frequently do) he'll add a little "no" in front of the "doughnuts."

It's just one of those silly things. It goes back years, to before we were even dating. I'd just started a diet, and I took him up to the store for a munchy-run. He'd got his chips or whatever, and I had successfully avoided temptation (whining the whole time) and gotten some sugar-free something, and just as we were leaving the store, an announcement came over the PA that doughnuts were going on sale. I thought Matt was going to burst something laughing.

So anyway, when I made up the list for him to take to the store yesterday, I put "doughnuts" on the list, fully expecting him to chuckle and ignore it. But no. He came home with a half-dozen doughnuts for me.

That's not even mentioning that he does most of the household chores (and if I must be honest, he did most of them even before I got pregnant and had a vague excuse). After I got pregnant, he took on my cat-litter chores, too, with not even a mumble of complaint, despite the fact that changing the cat litter is probably his least-favorite chore of all time. He loads and unloads the dishwasher, nine times out of ten. He takes the trash out, ninety-nine times out of a hundred. He makes sure the bills get paid on time. He does his share of meal-preparation and cat-feeding. He does his share of the laundry (and just a little bit more than his share, for the last couple of months.)

And when I complain that I feel especially slug-like and unhelpful, he says, "You are working very hard to nourish the baby!

And then he wonders why I am sometimes overcome with gratitude.

For our last Lamaze class, the moms were supposed to write a letter to the dads, and say why we thought they'd be great fathers. Mine took almost four hours to write, and it still didn't say half of what I wanted it to. I couldn't distill it into words. I still can't.

I didn't intend this entry to turn into a glurge-y love-fest. My sincere apologies to anyone who just yakked all over their reeboks, or had to dive for the insulin kit. This is just what happens when I stop to think about how very lucky I am, to have him in my life.

Even if this stupid backache is, ultimately, all his fault.

--Liz