"I love you Ni-nee"

Those are the exact words that I heard Nick's goddaughter say yesterday as I was folding clothes. She hasn't really said "I love you" to anything other than her bear that we got her that, when you press it's hand, says "Kristina, we love you." Knowing this, you should probably know that these kids hardly ever see Nick, but when they do see him, their eyes light up, and they won't shut up.

This is also true when I am folding his laundry, as was the case yesterday when those precious words came out of her mouth. I was holding up an orange button-up shirt of his when clear as a bell those words rang out it jumbled baby-talk. I could hear it though, and when I looked up at her and smiled, she giggled and ran into the other room.

Its moments like this that make it all worth it in my eyes. That plus the knowledge that things are sure to change soon enough. Nick took a risk and submitted his resume. It's hush-hush for now as I know people are watching him and his online pages like a hawk, but come July, things may change for the better. We really need it, and I think he will be a whole lot happier getting out of this situation.

I am personally sick of people telling me how to do things. I was berated this morning about how to properly vacuum a room. Now, not for nothing, but I have known how to vacuum a room since I was about five years old and was forced to do chores. He may think I don't know how to, but he can deal with his OCD tendencies and leave me alone. It was the same way for a while with his wife, when it came to me cooking, and I wanted to throw things. Why does everyone assume that I don't know how to be domestic? Is it because I am not Italian? Is there a stigma against certain backgrounds that make people think they aren't domestic? Sometimes I wonder.