The joys of having a pregnant wife

I have a very good husband. It's nice to have a very good husband when you are pregnant and want your feet rubbed, the dishes done, the kids put to bed, or a late night snack. (Okay, for the record he does all those things when I'm not pregnant)

For example, two months ago I really wanted some buttery movie popcorn, and what did he do? He went to the theatre and got me some, and brought it home. (He said he felt stupid carrying a bag of popcorn out of the theater, I told him most likely, no one noticed or cared.)

Last night, I got into bed about 1:00 am because I had fallen asleep on the couch watching So You Think You Can Dance after spin class, and when I woke up I still needed to shower. Anyway, John and I chatted for a little while and then I asked him if he could bring me a glass of ice water. He got out of bed, and as he walked out of our room I called after him, "Oh, the joys of having a pregnant wife." I heard him from the stairs reply, "Yes, they are joyous times." (I'm not sure if I detected any sarcasm or not...)

Then, after I drank my refreshing ice water (with a straw) I tried to get comfortable in bed. I am now at that point in my pregnancy where I can not lay on my belly, sometimes I don't want to be on my back either, and being on my side gets old after a while.

"John, can you move so I can lean against you?" (When I'm pregnant the perfect solution to getting comfortable is me almost sleeping on my side with half of my body leaning on John's side of his body. It makes me feel like I'm sleeping on my back and my side at the same time while my body is being supported. It really is perfect.) John obliged and moved over, and put his arm down at his side. I moved my body to the comfy position, and John said, "Just don't stinker on my hand."

I guess, even a very good husband with a pregnant wife has to draw the line somewhere.