This Thing Called Blog

This, I admit, should have been my first post. An explanation of who I am and what I am writing about. But, for whatever reason, I didn’t want to begin that way. Perhaps it’s my contrarian values. For whatever reason, I dove right in with a diatrabe sparked by an innocent–and ignorant–question from the cashier at Fred Meyer that. “So they’re different,” she asked, since I was buying my twin sons different colored foam swords.
My sons were born almost six years ago. I was twenty two then, finishing up college. They were born on St. Patrick’s day, 2002. Being born on a holiday is really awesome to some people I think, as much as I could tell from the reaction of the hospital staff. Lisa–the boys’ mom–and I were actually hoping they wouldn’t be born on St. Patrick’s day, so we didn’t really share in the staff’s enthusiasm for the coincidence. Being born on Halloween would be pretty sweet, but other than that, personally I lean toward non-holiday birthday celebrations. It’s amazing to me now, as we come up to their sixth birthday, to remember their first and the run up to invading Iraq. There were grumblings about it that day and the next I think–I don’t remember which day we had the party–Bush addressed the nation.
So here we are almost six years on in my sons’ lives–almost five years into the war (you know, since I already made the connection)–and they are in kindergarten. I am here to report on the parenting life. The good and the bad. And the real ugly. My name is Will. Thank you.