Hi Ho, Hi Ho, A Blogging We Will Go

So. One boy is calling for a facecloth, a rubber ducky and fiddlers three, while the other, smaller boy stares at his father, astonished by the idea that he was first dunked, then scrubbed, then returned to his original state of being, if somewhat cleaner than before. While the baby contemplates the oddities of his life, here we go. Blogging.

When my older son was born, I sent out monthly emails as to his progress. I described babyhood marvels like his proficiency at spit bubbles, his ability to gurgle in two, no three! different consonants. Oddly enough, I feel the urge to offer this loving chronicle to my second child. For the parentally uninitiated, I suggest you stop reading now, and consider a nice Danielle Steel novel - it'll kill off roughly as many brain cells as my discussion of the baby's poops, their color, consistency and frequency over the past twelve hours. (Heh. Don't tempt me - I could actually do it.)

Here's what I won't do on this blog: discuss American politics, sports, economics, third world debt (although that is really worrying). I will talk about parenting, walking the fine line between being a mom and the myth that I have a life outside of that, chronic illness and whatever bugs me today. I am lucky enough to parent two kids, and one of them has hemophilia. One and possibly both has food and drug allergies. Both are perfect, in their medically complex, don't-you-ever-underestimate-me kind of way. And I'll talk a lot about that, especially when they've driven me up a raving wall, and I'm trying to remind myself that I actually love them. I may make similar persuasive arguments about any other member of my family from time to time, but I won't publish those here, since those buggers can actually *read*.

Last but not least, there will be a bit about being a woman in the age of 'our mothers lied about being able to have it all,' and trying to find my feet while having one foot in the world of extreme parenting and another tentatively placed in 'I am woman, see me educate.'

But first, I must rescue the tiny philosopher from his father.