It’ll be interesting to experience the potential wrath of scrutiny I’ll get from speaking my mind here, but I’m going to say it anyway: I think I’m supposed to have another baby.
When opportunity knocks, you answer. And I have, each and every time, with open arms.
Except that for the first time ever, the knocking ain’t happening on my door, so to speak. Which is interesting because I never thought I was the adoption type, until now.
I started reading a handful of articles yesterday about having babies as an older woman—adoptive or otherwise and I must admit it’s making me both nervous and excited. To be honest, I’m not even sure I’ll pass the home inspection test: I feel like the decision makers might enter my home with their sharpened pencils and clip boards and realize that we’re already at max capacity. Or maybe that we’re a little weird and the farthest thing from being wholesome christians. Or maybe they’ll sidestep some of their proviso’s in lieu of overwhelming love? Who knows.
As of now, they aren’t exactly my concern. Pippin is-- who has been talking vacation and vasectomy like it was going out of style. Rumor also has it he wants to downsize our 15 passenger Econoline and trade it for a wagon of sorts. This doesn’t look promising, but I’m not about to give up.
Taking it in,