Just when I was finally getting my bearings as a working Mom, my husband decides to blindside me. We’re enjoying a rushed morning of coffee and “to do” lists and he drops this bomb on me. “If we’re going to have a second kid we better get on it before it’s too late.” Too late!?! Too late for what? Too late before we upset the delicate balance we just recently acquired? Too late to maintain the small semblance of domestic sanity we’ve been striving for since Ashley’s conception?

Of course I didn’t have the time or forethought to spew all of this at him. All I could manage to say was “you’re my second kid hot shot, now take out the garbage.” I know this conversation has to happen, but it’s going to have to wait until I’ve achieved that bank promotion and my daughter can drive herself to school.