Best of Intentions

After describing in detail one of Sam's more spectacular poops to my father a few years ago -- I believe I used the word cannonball -- my dad said, "You know, you should really write all this stuff down. You have such a great way of describing things." And so many moons and several hundred diapers later, and with the gentle encouragement of a few friends, here I am.

I've been feeling trepidatious about this new enterprise. Ever one to systemetize and classify, I had to make a list of all the reasons why it's taken me this long to start blogging.

For one, previous ventures to chronicle my life have whimpered out fairly early. I have a few diaries and travel journals in my collection, their spines barely cracked and only the first few pages taken up with furiously detailed musings. In stark contrast, I have a memory of my housemate S's many journals from over the years neatly lining a shelf in her room. This to me was an intimidating feat of discipline and consistency.

An easy one to get over. So I start off and wander away. Not a reason not to start.

Second, the whole exercise seems so self-indulgent. Who really wants to read what my kid did today or what childhood memory I've fixated on today? I'm probably a few quirks away from being diagnosed with a narcissistic complex as it is. Does writing a blog about my life look like I assume the world should be interested in my day-to-day activities?

Ultimately, a stupid concern. If I'm blogging, I clearly want to be read. Away with the false modesty. I've enjoyed reading my other friends blogs about training to be a chef, prepping for a marathon, music, movies, etc. I hope that what I write makes people smile. That's it, that's all.

But with false modesty aside, I have to admit I'm feeling a little vulnerable. So may of my friends are brilliant, clever writers. I lack brevity. I can't tell a story without inserting random details and digressions that I think add to the narrative, and then am always surprised when I look up to see the listener's eyes glazing over. (I'm the kind of person that competely understands why Tolkien had a whole history separately written for a thousand-page book.) I can't write a paragraph without some sort of interjection, I use dashes too many times, my sentences go on and on, and I use ellipses more than I should ....

So there. I've acknowledged that these posts may be inconsistent (for those of you who will naturally be waiting with bated breath for my every word), that I know that this is a self-indulgent, exhibitionist venture, and that I could stand to be more pithy. Now to the point of this blog.

Purpose: To serve as the go-to spot for people looking for updates on Sam & Liv, which I suspect will be the primary reason anyone checks in. This will also be the place for me to hammer out whatever thoughts have been buzzing around my head all day.

Privacy: I'm still sussing this out. For now, I'll stick with the kids' first names and everyone else will go by initials or whatever unfortunate nickname I decide to stick you with.