My husband and I frequently have THAT conversation.
The one about what I will do in two years when the kids are a little older and daycare is no longer an issue. The one about my future earnings which will allow me to retire when I'm...85.
We were having that conversation for the ten thousandth time over lunch of pizza, wings, and Diet Coke.
"What do you want to do?" he asked.
I had to think about it. I want the financial security of a job with a steady income. I also want to be a writer. I am painfully aware that the second will not provide the first in any timely manner. The clock on that one is ticking louder than any biological clock created. EVER.
"I want to write," I choked out and washed down with Diet Coke fizz, fully prepared to lay out my plan on how to establish myself and supplement with teaching.
But I didn't have to. He looked at me and shrugged,
"Then do it."