A few days ago, shortly after I made our announcement, I got an email from someone who said that I was "crazy" for having another baby now, with a husband who's in business school in another state. And while I'm not sure the comment was especially well-intentioned...I still thought that it was interesting, because it brings up a question that everyone wonders about - worries about - when it comes to when to begin (or expand) their own family.
The occasional Aerosmith concert or engagement party aside, we don't actually go out together in the city a whole lot. We mean to, we plan to...but whenever we hire a babysitter it ends up just sounding so much easier to go out somewhere around here rather than end our evening with a Metronorth ride and a taxi from the train station.
Lazy? Yes. But we're lazy. Ain't no shame.
Like I said, we were in the mood to act out a little. But since bar hopping or clubbing isn't really on the menu at the moment, we headed down to a tattoo parlor on St. Mark's Place that has tattooed my family (my mom, my dad, Kendrick, and me) a total of five times.
Now six.
No tattoos for the pregnant lady - we'll get to that next fall - but Kendrick has a design he's wanted to get for awhile now, so:
My monkey mug and I have rejoined the world, all thanks to a 10AM Skype meeting that allowed me to keep my pajama bottoms on (my goodness, do I ever love that about Skype), but still required me to actually brush my hair and put on for-real makeup for the first time in two weeks. The meeting ended up getting pushed to tomorrow, but that's okay...because it means that I actually brushed my hair and put on for-real makeup for the first time in two weeks.
Small successes.
I even...(sort of)...want to go to the gym*. It's like a post-Christmas miracle.
