There's nothing like a good foot rub. And let me tell you, there's nothing like a man who rubs your feet. Really. Yes, I love chocolate and cake and cookies, but sometimes a good foot rub is better. (See that, Husband, the word sometimes?)
I'm a very lucky girl. When I was pregnant with my munchkin, my husband rubbed my feet a lot. In fact, he ultimately kind of wound up in charge of taking care of my feet, once I could no longer see them. He even painted my toenails a few times (and I hate to admit it, but he did a pretty awesome job). After Baby was born, I was eager for the foot loving to continue, so I just continued to deposit my feet in Husband's lap at regular intervals. After all, I was a new mom, tired and often overwhelmed, and the foot rubs were often very relaxing.
Fast-forward to Baby verging on his seventeen-month-a-birthday in a few days, and the foot rubs are still a part of our regular habit. Sometimes I'm super lucky, and I can get one every day. Sometimes I'm not as lucky, and Husband will go away for weeks at a time, and my feet with atrophy with the lack of attention (perhaps I'm exaggerating here). Either way, though, I think it's pretty darn awesome that my husband rubs my feet. Especially since I don't rub his back. And for good reason - my hands are really wimpy when it comes to massaging. They're pathetic. So instead I do nice things like bake oatmeal cookies for my husband or buy him birthday cake flavored ice cream from Publix. I think that's pretty fair, right?
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