One of the grey areas created by this upcoming job situation change and relocation adventure is the baby plan. I don’t know if I told you before but the baby plan was kind of unofficial hiatus for a bit anyway (and if ANYONE takes this opportunity to tell me that oh! This is when you’ll get pregnant! Because you are RELAXED! And not trying! Rest assured that I will find you. And we will throw down. And I’ll probably insult your pants. And maybe your mom.) due to lack of fun and Patrick’s desire to take a break from Crazy Psycho Clomid Wife. Apparently he isn’t at his happiest when I’m all whacked out from mainlining fertility drugs. Boys are such wimps.

But one non-negotiable part of our parenting plan was that I would stay home. It’s important to both of us and we were very willing to sacrifice what was already a meager income from my part time job so that I could be home with our child. Enter… the wrinkle in the plan. Starting in January I’m going to be working full time. And suddenly my income won’t be so microscopic. Or superfluous. (Although Patrick constantly assures me that my paycheck matters I can’t help but feel a little insignificant when I see my income written down next to his. Regardless, thanks baby. You’re sweet. Also? Nice ass.)

So we made an agreement. I will work full time for one year while we figure out this redistribution of income situation. Gone are my Mondays of manicures and morning grocery shopping. So long mid-day workouts at an empty gym. Farewell Monday reading hour on the couch. You are going to be replaced with work. Honest to goodness work where I have responsibilities and am accountable for important business shenanigans. The upside is that I get to take Belle to work with me every day. Ah the perks of a family business. (Did I mention that? Have I just let a little more detail slip out? Sneaky, sneaky!)

Motherhood is officially on hold. And the more I think about that, the more okay with it I become. Because we went to the beach over Labor Day, just the two of us. And it was really fantastic. We played in the ocean and took the boat out on the Intercoastal and just lazed around talking about everything and nothing at the same time and eating Oreos (which are NOT the breakfast of champions as my scale was quick to inform me this morning… who knew?) Our time will come, I have no doubts. But I’m finally realizing that I’m not in a hurry anymore. I’ve abused my body too much over the past three years with stress and fertility drugs with nothing but heartbreak and broken dishes to show for it.

This next year will be the year of not a baby. Patrick and I are taking a very tropical vacation. We are moving. We are starting a new adventure that will give us financial security for our future (with the added bonus of Patrick not coming home all squinty and stabby). And we are childless. Which is just fine with me.