Putting the SAINT in St. John

This is my husband St. John.

My friends gave him that nickname . . .

calling him a saint for putting up with me. I guess I can be a handful sometimes . . . like this past weekend.

Some of the reasons I loved

being St. John's wife this weekend:

1. He didn't care if my breath was really stinky. He kissed me anyway. Ewwww.

2. He set an alarm to wake me up in the middle of the night for pain medication. He brought the pills to me in bed with a cup of jello (just in case they upset my stomach.)

3. He pulled out the Betty Crocker cookbook and made me homemade macaroni and cheese . . . twice! I'm probably the only person in the history of the universe to GAIN WEIGHT after having their wisdom teeth taken out. It was so tasty!

4. He brought me ice packs every 20 minutes for my face. When I was too tired to hold them on myself, he held them there for me. Seriously.

5. He did the laundry, changed Megan's diapers, took the dog out . . . pretty much did everything even though I insisted I was feeling great. He made me rest.

6. When the first pain medicine was making me feel high-strung, anxious, dizzy, crazy, and hyper-active (like wanting to go to Target with stitches in my gums and begging someone to take me), he called the doctor for me, had my prescription changed to something nice and relaxing and then went to pick it up for me. I remember very little from the rest of the weekend. Ha.

7. He sat with me and watched all my favorite shows without complaining (too much)about missing Survivorman.

8. He let me drool all over his pillow.

I think my friends got it exactly right . . . He is a

saint

and I'm lucky to have him.

Don't you think?

My sister Katie took these photos for us. She did some family shots too. I'll post those soon!