We never thought we were the type of people who would do this, but here we are. Plenty of other people, including close friends, had taken this plunge, but my husband and I just assumed we’d be those types who could live their lives without going on that particular adventure. We’d even told ourselves that they’re obnoxious, attention-seeking little things that age poorly and prove to be tedious down the line. We’d basically said they were a bad choice.
But the fact of the matter is that we weren’t actually capable of doing it, which is why, I think, we talked ourselves out of it. For years we tried and tried, but nothing came of our efforts. We tried “relaxing.” We tried supplements. But still: nothing.
Until recently. It’s very, very early, but I’m too excited not to share the good news with you. I guess we’re going to have to eat our words and just become one of “those couples,” but I’m pleased to announce that apparently, my husband is able to grow a mustache.
As you can see, it’s quite faint still. Traditionally, it’s probably too early to talk about it in public, but I figure, even if it doesn’t “work out,” I’d rather share the experience with people--all of it--than keep it to ourselves.
But for years, Steve had just assumed it wasn’t in the cards for him. He could grow a beard on his neck, and patches on his cheeks, but not much every materialized on his face. We’re not sure exactly what happened: maybe it was our vacation, maybe it’s the warm weather, maybe we just needed to be patient, but for whatever reason, it looks like it’s happening.
We’re over the moon about the prospect of the new addition to our family. We’re scared and excited and feeling a little bit nutty, but mostly, prepared for the great facial hair adventure that lies ahead. I know this little guy isn’t going to be perfect--no Tom Selleck or Burt Reynolds here. But we’re going to do the best we can.
Also, I am pregnant.
