Baby-Palooza Finale

Saturday and Sunday I visited an audiologist who I used to work with at my old job. She relocated to ATL and is currently both a director of audiology, and a "Dr."- both brilliant achievements that have not gone to her head. We saw the movie "knocked up" and ate at Dante's (fondue with a pirate theme- very fun and somehow classy). I give the movie Knocked Up 3 stars for making me laugh despite the questionable story-line.


The final baby on the stop was an adorable 9 month old with an incredi-mom. Pictured below:



He LOVED water. And he's in a screetchy phase right now- bless his mother's hearing and patience! He had the most beautiful smile-- and he was the most mobile of the babies I have seen in the last week. The cats were having to run in order to keep out of reach! We had a great time that included lots of talking, awing over baby and lugging logs from a tree her dad was disassembling. It had fallen during a storm in her neighbor's yard and needed to be cleared. I had a chance to work in a yard for once, and friend's mom gave me lessons on Poison Ivy and Poison Oak- both were present at the "work site".

Finally, I saw my own baby brother in Nashville. We had a good time- especially Wednesday night when we went for our "appointment". I know there's been some people dying to see it, so without further ado:



Now for some back-story for those unaware of my appointment and plans. I've wanted a tattoo since highschool, but my parents firmly said "when you are paying your own bills, you can do what you want". My roommate in college went to get one freshman year, but though I knew I could get away with it, I held off because my parents were still paying my bills. Throughout my twenties I thought about it from time to time and was certain an Irish themed knot would be something I would never grow to dislike. I've loved Irish music since I was a child, have a strong Irish ancestory, am Irish Catholic and have played in sessions before with the penny whistle.

On my 30th birthday different people were telling me I had to think of a symbolic gift for this monumental year. I kiddingly stated "how about a tattoo" which was laughed at by my mother and friends. Then a few friends came to me and told me, "well, I'd like one too- let's go get one." I began to think about it. Then I pondered, okay, I'm 30. It's been a rough year- two funerals of grandparents in 3 months. I've began to feel truely free and happy with the traveling therapy jobs. I love my job. It's a very strange and upsy-downsy time of life. I spoke with baby brother philosophically about all of this and he stated, "come down to Nashville, I want one too, we can get one together." That rang true with me. I assumed we would be having different tastes in tattoos, but he stated he wanted a celtic cross. This also rang true. Truer than anything has in awhile.

I know I will continue to change throughout my life, but several things I hope will never change. First, I hope I will always retain faith in God and his plan for me. Second, I hope I will always retain the close relationship I have with my brothers. And finally, I hope that in becoming who I am, I never forget where I came from. And so there we are. A celtic cross tattoo which I share with baby brother for ever. If I ever regret getting it, at least I can call him up and commiserate and laugh about the day we walked in to Lone Wolf to get a tattoo together.

And for those who are needlessly curious, it is in a location that my patients will NEVER see. But it is not a "tramp stamp". :-)