Not a first child anymore

So Mags is married. She is somebody's wife. She now folds someone else's underwear and irons his shirts to be nice.

She's collecting cook books, dish towels and fine bone china while I'm looking through the banana republic catalog and thinking that I really should invest in fixing the molding on my car.

She's off on her honeymoon and I'm sitting in my poorly air conditioned office tying away while I avoid actually doing any work of value.

She's worried about saving enough money to move into her first little family apartment and I'm looking forward to moving into a cute, rundown rental house in Boulder.

She's thinking about the names she and Dan will pick for their first children and I'm wondering where I'll be going out to eat tonight.

For the first time I have no advice to give her about what she should do. For the first time she's doing something before I've done it.

I am so thrilled and excited for her to make all the mistakes and tell me how to do it better when I get my chance to try.

Being the second is AWESOME!