Good grief. All the babies.
I thought I was still in the stage of my life when everyone was getting married. Apparently, I didn't get the memo that we were moving on. Married folk around me are either changing diapers or picking out paint samples for the future nursery, and I still thought we were in the day and age of wedding colors and finding the perfect "something blue."
I don't really want kids right now. At some point in my life, yes. I hope to surround myself with crayon covered walls and Kool-Aid spills, but I'm not there yet. Lyndon and I have both said that we're way too selfish right now. We want to be better at our husband and wife titles before we add mom and dad titles onto them. Baby fever rarely hits, and when it does, it's more about being the mother of Lyndon's children. That part overwhelms me, but child-rearing isn't at the top of my "to do" list as of yet.
What form of crazy do we currently have? I'm glad you asked. The answer to that: dog crazy. We love dogs, and we're suffering right now. We aren't allowed to have dogs in the apartment we're currently in. It gets Lyndon down sometimes, and when that happens he comes up to me and whines, "I want a dog." He sounds like an 8-year-old begging for a pet. It's pretty pitiful, actually. We aren't so dog crazy that we'll call them our children and carry pictures of them in our wallets, but you get the idea.
We even know what kinds of dogs we want: a bulldog named Sergeant (who we will call Sarge) and a shiba inu (name tbd).
A shiba inu because they're fun, playful, and energetic.
|Look at that puppy. Melt.|
I hope we're able to have children someday. I know my life will change for the better in a forever kind of way. At this point in my life, I'd rather have a companion who slobbers, poops anywhere and everywhere, depends on me for everything, is excited to see me when I come home . . . wait . . . that still sounds like a baby.