For money of course. Actually I have a personal reason for it. I used to be real good at writing in my journal, like every day, in multiple languages. And then it stopped. Mainly because I came home from my mission and spent more time with my wife and school and work that I didn't have any time to journal. Well now is my chance to actually remember some stuff that my kids did.
We had another blog that I started, that my wife then managed, and then we both stopped posting on it. Mainly because we made it private, and really the only readership we had was like us, and my mom (hi mom thanks for reading this one too). The truth is until we had kids there really wasn't that much stuff to blog about. The posts would be like this:
"Today I went to work at Discovercard, and it sucked, and then I came home."
Not exactly a bestseller or something we want to remember. I think everyone who worked at Discovercard has certain parts of their past where they have mentally checked out and have absolutely no memory of it. It's how we coped.
Now that we have kids our lives have become much more interesting because kids make us do crap that we never would have done as DINKS (Double Income No KidS). Like accosting strangers at a playground hoping that eventually a friendship will spark up between their child and ours and then we can set up a play date and actually have a few minutes to think (or blog... about our kids) while our child is at the new person's house.
Seriously have you ever thought about the stuff that we do now that we have kids that we would never even dream about before. The things we touch and handle?
My sister when she was younger said that when she got married one of the deals she would have to have with her future husband was that he would be in charge of cleaning up all vomit. That's quite a pre-nup. Does this include her vomit as well, or is it just from the kids.
My first experience with vomit comes from Kara, but I won't go into that story. Let's talk about the kids. Nikki was little, like 6 months or so, and she was sick, and had been sick for the previous night. Here's where all the details are starting to get fuzzy so I am just going to add in things where there's blanks. Just to avoid confusion I am going to put ( ) around all the things that I can't remember and have judiciously guessed.
Nikki had been sick for (months) and she had a real hard time sleeping the night before. I was getting ready to go to work when Kara asked me to hold her (so she could go and re-arrange the furniture in the apartment). I'm holding Nikki and she starts to heave, heave HEAVE all over my nice work pants and shirt. I'm holding Nikki now at arm's length and it is still projecting onto my face. How did she fit all that in her stomach.
What do I do, I laugh.
I then hand her off to Kara and I run to change clothes and jump in the shower. 20 minutes later, I am ready to leave for work which starts in 10 minutes. Kara asks me to please change Nikki's diaper before I leave. I put Nikki on the carpet, remove her diaper, and just as before, am covered with green colored stuff, this time from the other end, and just as projectile. A phone call to work to inform them of my predicament, and I am off to shower, again.
Ya see, I didn't write that down the first time around, when it happened. True I don't think the internet existed in it's present form then, but I can't go back and remember that choice experience.
Well, now I can. Cuz I just wrote it down, completely wrong.
The point is, my kids do funny and crazy stuff everyday and I know that growing up there were albums and video tape of every stupid thing that I did. You know how I remember? Because I can see it. All the stuff that wasn't documented, I don't remember, and neither do my parents. So this blogging thing is like the shoebox full of photographs, and the baby book, and all those early video tapes that won't play on anything else but the camera it was made for, but the camera is broken so we have to find a place to transfer it to DVD.
This is for my kids (and me for when I am old and senile and can't recognize who the strangers are that are changing my diaper).
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