Older but not wiser

This post has been in the works for over a week now. But I just keep finding better things to do. Like sleep. Or start (and rapidly abort) potty training. But the latter is a story for a different day; it's still just too soon to relive that pain and suffering. But on to the actual post.

The birth of my second child (now that's a phrase to make you feel old) has occasioned a bit of reflections on the habits of my youth. And I'm afraid that I've probably reached a point in life where I should alter a few of my behaviors.

For example, I think that if one carries the word "professor" in one's job title, one should probably not wear tiny cotton running shorts into public. Ever. Even if one can "pull them off." [OK, this hypothetical, third-person "one" business is too hard to keep up. You all already know I'm talking about myself. So let's keep going, shall we?] So my favorite running shorts (some of which I have actually had since freshman year of college) should probably stay at home.

Along the same lines, I probably need to keep up with my manicures a little more closely. Meaning, I shouldn't go for days on end with really (and I mean really) chipped nails. It just sort of screams "insecure 7th grader who fidgets and picks at her nail polish to avoid looking you in the eye." And thankfully, that just isn't me anymore.

And back to the whole mommy business - maybe I should cease and desist the eating of ice cream by the pint directly from the carton. For breakfast. I mean, I only let Elle have 1 teeny weeny little bite from my bowl. It's sort of the height of ice cream hypocrisy, and it should probably stop. Nah, this last one stays. She'll just have to settle for waiting until she's old enough to sneak ice cream without me knowing to follow my bad example. And speaking of, I'm now in the mood for froyo. So perhaps Elle and I (sorry, Archer) will go indulge in a little Menchy's.

Hasta luego!