It is hot. Like, uncomfortably hot. That’s my first thought when I open my eyes. In fact, I’m sweating buckets through my t-shirt. I look over at Jim sleeping peacefully beside me. His hair is sticking up adorably in a thousand different directions but he doesn’t look warm at all. He has even got the covers pulled up to his chest. I slowly extricate his arm from around my middle, trying not to wake him up in the process; he is making me even hotter. Good lord, its only May! This must be one of those crazy pregnancy things I’ve been reading about -–kind of like hot flashes without all the other stuff. I really need to get up.

I pull on a pair of my sleeping shorts which must have been haphazardly thrown off in the middle of the night and go into the adjoining bathroom to pee. Jim’s parents’ new bungalow is adorable and comfortingly quiet, almost out in the country but enough in town that you don’t feel like you’re completely isolated. It’s one of those nice things about Pennsylvania. I have a feeling this is the kind of house Jim’s parents always wanted to buy but never did. Now that we’ve released them from Jim’s childhood home, they’ve moved a step up. And the whole family has gathered for a Memorial Day weekend picnic. It’s a tradition, Jim told me – an excuse to get together.

I splash cold water on my face as quietly as I can, hoping it will make me feel less like I’m dying a slow death in the desert. I sneak a glance in the mirror. That whole happy glowy thing? I don’t think I’m there yet. I look super tired and the sweat has made my hair all frizzy. Ew. I’m anything but glowing. I am, however, five weeks pregnant, confirmed at our first appointment last week. I grin just thinking about it.

It is too hot to crawl back into bed and I’m not in the mood for reading the book I brought from home. Jim looks so cute curled up in the sheets with the sunshine slowly crawling across the blankets and half of me wants to go wake him up and snuggle. But I won’t – it’s still early and he could sleep all day if he really wanted to. Plus, we had kind of a late night last night. Jim’s parents normally condone to the whole separate bedrooms until marriage thing but since we’ve already had a longer engagement and now a baby on the way (!!) we were allowed an exception to the rule.

I need tea. And food. I gather my hair in a ponytail and close the bedroom door behind me, admiring the pale yellow hallway splashed with photographs of a happy family growing up. The picture of seven year old Jim playing Little League does me in every time. Corky, the mellowed out Golden Retriever has plated herself at the top of the stairs and I almost trip over her on the way down.

The entryway is bursting with skylight sun and I can hear the sputter of a coffee pot in the kitchen. I round the corner to find Jim’s mom, Larissa, already at the counter, stirring a mess of flour and eggs in a huge bowl. She smiles when she sees me. Every time I see her I am immediately reminded as to where Jim got his infamous smirk.

“Morning, honey,” she says cheerfully, cracking another egg into the bowl before gesturing for me to sit down. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah, great, thanks,” I reply, while yawning unsubtlely into my fist. “Can I help with anything?”

“No, no, dear,” she assures me. “Pancakes are all mixed up. Can I get you some tea?”

“Tea would be great,” I say, rising, “but I can get it.”

“Allow me,” she says, opening a big cupboard brimming with mugs. “Ooh, here’s a tough choice. As my husband is five years old, we have an overwhelming supply of cartoon mugs. So – Bugs Bunny or Micky Mouse?”

I decide on Bunny. She talks to my stomach as the water boils. I love Larissa and we’ve gotten along from the start. She’s in her late fifties, light brown hair cropped to her chin and going gray, with smiling eyes and laugh lines in all the right places. She is the more practical one next to Jim’s dad, but his entire family jokes around like there is no tomorrow. She is almost as easy to talk to as her son and whenever Jim and I come to visit, we have hour-long conversations over the simplest things. We have one now, as the coffee brews and the day slips out of its cocoon.

We are interrupted only when Tom’s kids tumble down the stairs, awake before all the adults. They tackle Pete, who is sleeping in a lump on the living room couch and then come nosily into the kitchen.

“Pam!” Three year old Charlie hugs me tightly around the legs. He is pretty much the cutest kid I’ve ever seen and surprisingly, I feel more comfortable around these kids than I ever thought I would. I guess it just takes me a little time.

“Hey, Charlie! Hey Vanessa!” I give my soon-to-be niece a little wave as the blonde preteen pushes her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose. “Are you guys hungry? Your grandma is making pancakes.”

“Pancakes? Pancakes?” Charlie looks flabbergasted and then breaks into a huge grin. “Grammy! Where’s my hat? I wanna help!”

Larissa chuckles, takes a small checkered apron and a chef hat from a hook behind the door and helps Charlie put it on. It says ‘Grandma’s Little Helper’ in painted letters. I can’t help laughing when the hat falls down over his eyes and he blindly runs into my leg.

“Pam, honey, why don’t you go wake up Jim?” Larissa suggests as the kids dive into eagerly into the batter. I can already tell I will return to a mess. I take my carrots and ranch dressing with me, a craving that had come on randomly as I sat and talked to Larissa about summer plans. I normally loathe ranch dressing but right now I could eat it by the bucketful.

I set my food down on the nightstand and crawl into bed. Jim is sprawled all the across it, snoring lightly. I rub a hand absently across my t-shirt while I watch him sleep, thinking about how much I love this family and him and how I feel like I’m already a part of it. Both our parents have been surprisingly low-key and accepting about this whole baby thing and I’m so grateful for it. But I am so ready to marry this man and become an official Halpert. I run a hand along his back to wake him up and he turns to find me with my head propped on my hand, smiling down at him.

“Watching me sleep again?” he teases, tucking stray hair behind my ear. “Creeper.”

“I like watching you sleep,” I say simply.

“My point exactly.” He smiles against my lips as he kisses me good morning and then bends down to my stomach. This is a ridiculously adorable habit he’s had since we first found out we were expecting.

“Good morning, baby,” he coos, pressing a kiss to the flat strip of skin between my bellybutton and shorts. “How’s it going in there? Nice weather today? And what has Mommy been feeding you for breakfast?” He notices my food on the bedside table. “Carrots and ranch dressing? Really?” He pauses, clicks his tongue. “Oh, yes of course. I’ll talk to her about the menu…mmhmm..”

By this point I am laughing and I sneak another carrot off the nightstand. Some of the ranch drips into Jim’s hair on the way to my mouth.

“Really, Pam, you should know this.” He shakes his head disapprovingly. “Baby wants cake...wait. Did you seriously just…” he pauses to run a hand across the top of his head. “…get ranch dressing in my hair?”

His expression is hilarious. I lick my fingers and grin. “Ooops.”

“Beesly, it is so on.”

We tangle up the sheets, laughing and squealing as he tickles me and I beg him to stop.

“Jim!” I gasp, trying to catch my breath. “Truce!” I roll on top of him and kiss him squarely on the mouth. “And whatever pyscho thing I’m craving is a request from the baby itself. It wants ranch dressing, I swear!”

“But really…chocolate cake, Bees. Baby said so itself. I actually had a conversation with it!”

“You just want some,” I say.

“Okay, I totally have our child’s best interests at heart,” he laments, as I roll off him, so we’re laying side by side. “But chocolate cake does sound pretty good right now.”

“See? Guilty!” I run a finger down his nose. “Your mom is making some pretty incredible looking pancakes.”

“Oh yeah? Well, we can’t go downstairs yet.” He’s looking at me mischievously. “Besides, you’ve got your delicious carrots. You don’t need pancakes.”

“I object,” I say, pulling the covers off him to reveal my favorite green boxers. “Pregnant woman is starving. And that takes total precedence over your needs, Halpert.”

He hops out of bed and looks down at me, eyes shining, his smile brighter than the sun behind him.

“Oh, no, Pam, not that! Honestly. What kind of person do you think I am?” I roll my eyes and he grins. “But. You are not getting off the hook so easily.” He strips off his shirt to reveal his perfectly tanned chest.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, protecting my belly with my fingers.

“You got ranch dressing in my hair, missy,” he chuckles as he scoops me up, ignoring my protests, “and you’re going to help me wash it out.”

I squeal and squirm and we’re kissing and I’m suddenly not so hungry for pancakes anymore. It’s a perfect morning at my future in-law’s house with a man I love more than life itself holding me tightly in his arms, kissing my stomach over and over as the shower warms up.

I couldn’t ask for anything more, ever.

I can’t wait for a lifetime of mornings exactly like this one.

I can’t wait for Jim to be a daddy, even if he does feed our kid chocolate cake for breakfast. He totally will too.

I can’t wait to be tackled by a messy face with my curls and Jim’s apologetic kisses as he promises it was all her idea.

I feel safe. I feel loved. I feel complete. And it’s only nine a.m.

It is only when the shower is ready that his grin slides back to normal and he looks at me, seriously. “Sorry, Bees. You go get pancakes. Go feed Baby.” He smoothes my out of place curls, mussed from our play-fighting. “I’ll meet you down there in a few.”

Only him. I fall in love all over again as I open the curtain.

“C’mere, buddy.” I take off my t-shirt and hop back into his arms. “Pancakes can wait.”