Dear 2012 Presidential Candidates, We are your future constituents and we are parents. We are American mothers and fathers and grandparents and guardians. Our families might be the most diverse in the world. Blended and combined in endless permutations, we represent every major religion, political ideology and ethnic culture that exists. We are made from equal parts biology and choice. Our children come to us in every way possible—including fertility miracles, adoption, and remarriage. Our very modern families embody the freedom that defines America.
We embody America. We are rich in diversity, but we are united in our family values. We come together today, with one voice, to express our grave disappointment in the national political discourse.
The 2012 countdown has barely begun and we are already being bombarded with the warmed-over, hypocritical rhetoric of 2008. We are living in a time where 25% of Americans now live in poverty, the unemployment rate stands at 16%, and we are spending close to $170 billion annually between the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Given the current state of affairs we would expect every candidate to focus on the issues that truly matter: job creation, debt-relief, taxes, education, poverty, and ending the war(s). Instead, it is already clear to us that the conversation has been hijacked, with the goal of further polarizing our nation into a politically motivated and falsely created class-war.
We will not stand for another campaign year in which politicians presume to know what our family values are as they relate to the nation. To be clear, here are our family values: Affordable health care, including family planning, for all Americans.
We will not tolerate any candidate using the shield of “Choice” to blind us from the issues that really matter. When funding is stripped from organizations like Planned Parenthood, access to sliding-scale health care (including yearly pap smears & mammograms), comprehensive sex education, and family planning is blocked from the poorest of the population.
Access to education, and the ability to actually use it. We want quality, affordable, federally-funded pre-K programs made available in every State, in order to provide an even starting point for all children enrolled in public schools— regardless of the wealth of the district or town they live in.
A reinstatement of regulations, beginning with the Glass/Stegal Act, for banks issuing mortgages and full prosecution for those who engaged in fraudulent lending practices. We want full accountability —investigation, indictment and prosecution— of those individuals and institutions who engaged in fraudulent lending practices and who helped create the massive foreclosures that left many families homeless or struggling to keep their homes.
A return of strict environmental regulations protecting water, air, food, and land that were removed in the last two decades. We want our children to grow up in a world not weighed down by the strains of pollution and global warming. Between BPA in our products, sky-rocketing rates of asthma in kids, questionable hormones in our over-processed food, and more, we need leaders who will put our needs and safety over the desires and profits of large corporations.
Family planning, healthcare, education, economic solvency and environmental safety: these are our national family values. Candidates who demonstrate the ability to understand the gravity of these issues, and their impact on our families, and who can provide actual, viable solutions to these problems will garner our support and our votes.
We believe in this democratic system of ours, and we will continue to use our voices and our votes to see that it reaches its fullest potential.
Sincerely, Your future constituents, The mothers & fathers of America
Showing posts with label fatherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fatherhood. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
An open letter from parent bloggers... thousands of us.
Today I'm participating in a blog in. Thousands of us, parents and bloggers, are doing this. We're standing up and telling the 2012 Presidential Candidates that their bullshit will not fly this election cycle. We will no longer tolerate birtherism as a campaign platform; a non-existent class warfare claim by the people who have been waging class warfare for on the 99% of non-millionaire Americans for the last thirty years; the lies that are passed of as facts and spun by your sycophants at your fake news organization; we will not accept your ignorance as a badge of honor nor your pride in your own mediocrity, your hypocrisy and your hatred and fundamental lack of humanity when it comes to the actual concerns of 99% of Americans. We are on to you and we expect better for ALL Americans. You've been put on notice.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
An Only Child
It's very early, I know, but I have been thinking about how this first child will be, for a while, an only child and whether it might be forever. I'm not sure, yet. I know it's early. My wife said it was waaaay too early to be thinking about a second. Maybe we could adopt.
(This was said during one of the peanut's hourly hot flashes that she lovingly shares with my wife.)
My in-laws were visiting this weekend and my father in-law was watching the family of feral cats that live behind my building. The kittens were rolling around, playing, chasing each other.
My little cat, (okay, she's not so little...) sat on the couch. Uninterested.
She's a little socially awkward. She loves us and she curls up next to us, purring, all the time. When I write, I will occasionally sit at my wife's desk next to the bed. The cat will sit on the bed behind me, curling up so she is leaning against my back. She's adorable.
She's also quite a bitch to anyone else who steps foot through our door. She hisses, she swats, she growls, she hides, she bites. She's not nice.
An opened front door is not an invitation for her to leave. At one time she would skittishly approach the door and look out. Now she does not. She's uninterested.
I blame myself. Angie and I never had people around in our little Salt Lake apartment. The cat was never around people other than us. She also was an only child. She had no one to play with, or more importantly, to socialize with. (If cat's socialize.) And I treated her like she was a puppy for a while. She was good at playing fetch. But I also traumatized her, I think. She's a cat, not a bulldog.
I don't want my child to be like that. I know it may be a strange thing to think. I'm pretty sure my child will be just fine, even if an only child. But still, I think about it.
I want my child to be able to love, to play, to want to experience more of the world then exists within the walls of our apartment.
(This was said during one of the peanut's hourly hot flashes that she lovingly shares with my wife.)
My in-laws were visiting this weekend and my father in-law was watching the family of feral cats that live behind my building. The kittens were rolling around, playing, chasing each other.
My little cat, (okay, she's not so little...) sat on the couch. Uninterested.
She's a little socially awkward. She loves us and she curls up next to us, purring, all the time. When I write, I will occasionally sit at my wife's desk next to the bed. The cat will sit on the bed behind me, curling up so she is leaning against my back. She's adorable.
She's also quite a bitch to anyone else who steps foot through our door. She hisses, she swats, she growls, she hides, she bites. She's not nice.
An opened front door is not an invitation for her to leave. At one time she would skittishly approach the door and look out. Now she does not. She's uninterested.
I blame myself. Angie and I never had people around in our little Salt Lake apartment. The cat was never around people other than us. She also was an only child. She had no one to play with, or more importantly, to socialize with. (If cat's socialize.) And I treated her like she was a puppy for a while. She was good at playing fetch. But I also traumatized her, I think. She's a cat, not a bulldog.
I don't want my child to be like that. I know it may be a strange thing to think. I'm pretty sure my child will be just fine, even if an only child. But still, I think about it.
I want my child to be able to love, to play, to want to experience more of the world then exists within the walls of our apartment.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Cat Insurance
This last week we spent a great deal of money to treat our sick cat. She's a little over 13 years old and has been our child for as long as we have been married. Her illness was serious and possibly life threatening.
After numerous tests, an ultrasound and cancer screening, x-rays, two tooth extractions and a major surgery, she's back home and is now fine.
Our vet is wonderful, but they did not keep us abreast of the mounting costs of her care. When confronted with the bill, we had to figure out what we wanted to do to cover it. Do we put it on the credit card and then pay the interest or do we dip into our savings.
Over the course of the last five years, we've been stashing money into an account for a trip to Peru, to climb to Machu Pichu. Rather than pay interest (we tend to keep a very low or zero balance on our card) we decided to simply take it from the Peru account.
Almost all of it.
Now, understand there was no question. You just do it. Peru isn't going anywhere, barring some major catastrophe, like a giant asteroid of a major volcanic eruption... in which case we have other things to worry about.
We paid it.
She is now at home, shaved belly and all. We couldn't be happier.
However, it got me thinking. At the Vet was a brochure for pet insurance.
Pet insurance.
If we'd had it, in some form, we'd have had certain things covered. But we didn't, so it all came out of pocket.
What if it were a child, instead of a pet?
What if we were one of the 40 million in this country who does not have health insurance? We'd have to dip into our savings to pay the bills. How long would that last?
Thankfully, we only dipped into one little savings account that had been set aside for a trip, but what if it were our "savings" and we had nothing else.
We are not people who abuse the system, we work, we pay our taxes, we contribute to the collective good. We could quickly have nothing.
It was suddenly easy for me to see how so many families get into trouble. They just can't make ends meet because of one hospital bill. It happens every day.
I promised this blog would not get into politics, but with this issue I think it's deeper than a political divide that it has become. It is about the lives of Americans. Americans who are suffering because we have chosen to make our health a commodity to be bought and sold on Wall Street.
It's wrong. We deserve better.
For everyone who pounds their chest and screams "America, love it or leave it!" or puffs up and defiantly proclaims "We're the greatest nation on earth" but has made the decision to fight against giving all American's access to health care - you should be ashamed. Your false patriotism is sickening and counter-productive. Your ignorance stands in the way of progress.
I had a moment of "What do I do?" with a cat. I can't imagine if it were my child. No one should have to make a decision between feeding their families and paying a medical bill. Between paying rent and paying for medicine. Not in America.
Thinking we, as a country, are the best we can ever be leaves no room for us to strive for better. It lets us all off far too easily. It means we have nothing to aspire to, to work for...
But perhaps that's what some people want.
After numerous tests, an ultrasound and cancer screening, x-rays, two tooth extractions and a major surgery, she's back home and is now fine.
Our vet is wonderful, but they did not keep us abreast of the mounting costs of her care. When confronted with the bill, we had to figure out what we wanted to do to cover it. Do we put it on the credit card and then pay the interest or do we dip into our savings.
Over the course of the last five years, we've been stashing money into an account for a trip to Peru, to climb to Machu Pichu. Rather than pay interest (we tend to keep a very low or zero balance on our card) we decided to simply take it from the Peru account.
Almost all of it.
Now, understand there was no question. You just do it. Peru isn't going anywhere, barring some major catastrophe, like a giant asteroid of a major volcanic eruption... in which case we have other things to worry about.
We paid it.
She is now at home, shaved belly and all. We couldn't be happier.
However, it got me thinking. At the Vet was a brochure for pet insurance.
Pet insurance.
If we'd had it, in some form, we'd have had certain things covered. But we didn't, so it all came out of pocket.
What if it were a child, instead of a pet?
What if we were one of the 40 million in this country who does not have health insurance? We'd have to dip into our savings to pay the bills. How long would that last?
Thankfully, we only dipped into one little savings account that had been set aside for a trip, but what if it were our "savings" and we had nothing else.
We are not people who abuse the system, we work, we pay our taxes, we contribute to the collective good. We could quickly have nothing.
It was suddenly easy for me to see how so many families get into trouble. They just can't make ends meet because of one hospital bill. It happens every day.
I promised this blog would not get into politics, but with this issue I think it's deeper than a political divide that it has become. It is about the lives of Americans. Americans who are suffering because we have chosen to make our health a commodity to be bought and sold on Wall Street.
It's wrong. We deserve better.
For everyone who pounds their chest and screams "America, love it or leave it!" or puffs up and defiantly proclaims "We're the greatest nation on earth" but has made the decision to fight against giving all American's access to health care - you should be ashamed. Your false patriotism is sickening and counter-productive. Your ignorance stands in the way of progress.
I had a moment of "What do I do?" with a cat. I can't imagine if it were my child. No one should have to make a decision between feeding their families and paying a medical bill. Between paying rent and paying for medicine. Not in America.
Thinking we, as a country, are the best we can ever be leaves no room for us to strive for better. It lets us all off far too easily. It means we have nothing to aspire to, to work for...
But perhaps that's what some people want.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Wild Things...
I saw Where The Wild Things are this past weekend. Most of us in the theater were in our late twenties to late thirties, the generation first introduced to the Wild Things.
Some critics were harsh on the raw emotions shown by the film, raw emotions that are ugly and frightening. Raw emotions that are felt by children who experience the complete spectrum of emotions without perspective or filters, who experience them instantly and sometimes simultaneously.
It reminded me what it felt like to be a kid: fear, anger, love, joy, jealousy... all of those wonderfully full emotions that are experienced so fully and completely.
It also reminded me of the power of the imagination. I work in imagination. I create things from air; characters from nothing; fully fledged stories sparked from half formed ideas. The imagination of a child can completely take them somewhere - they create and destroy entire worlds in an afternoon.
I hope I can find a balance of encouraging my child's imagination while keeping an eye on the emotional roller coaster that is childhood - all the while letting my child fully experience it, never interfering but always available to nurture, guide and protect.
Some critics were harsh on the raw emotions shown by the film, raw emotions that are ugly and frightening. Raw emotions that are felt by children who experience the complete spectrum of emotions without perspective or filters, who experience them instantly and sometimes simultaneously.
It reminded me what it felt like to be a kid: fear, anger, love, joy, jealousy... all of those wonderfully full emotions that are experienced so fully and completely.
It also reminded me of the power of the imagination. I work in imagination. I create things from air; characters from nothing; fully fledged stories sparked from half formed ideas. The imagination of a child can completely take them somewhere - they create and destroy entire worlds in an afternoon.
I hope I can find a balance of encouraging my child's imagination while keeping an eye on the emotional roller coaster that is childhood - all the while letting my child fully experience it, never interfering but always available to nurture, guide and protect.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Apples!
If you have never been apple picking, do it.
Go now.
I'm sure I'll be taking a bag and dragging a pregnant wife out to the orchards of New York... near the sad hill they call a ski resort... to pick apples. It's ever so much fun.
This is the reward for the IKEA run we are making tomorrow. We are not buying baby furniture yet.
That's saved for Trimester Three.
But we will be looking.
Back to the apples!
Angie makes applesauce. It's unbelievable.
I couldn't wait for Monday. So, I went to the farmer's market and grabbed a ton of apples ($0.75 a pound) and cranked out a tarte Tartine.
Here's the recipe: Go to Mark Bitteman's site, http://bitten.blogs.nytimes.com/, and look up the recipe. It couldn't be easier. He just explains it better than I, but it's so simple. A huge saute pan overflowing with cored, peeled quartered apples put over a moderate heat with some sugar... Just cook the hell out of it until you've cooked out the liquid, add butter. (yes, Ethel, butter.)
Carmalize them... just brown and sugary and gooey.
Toss them into a smaller, buttered saute. (from a 12" to a 10" or a 10" to an 8"... whatever, this is a pretty loose-y goose-y thing...)
Top it with a pastry crust. It can be store bought, puff pastry, filo... again, whatever.
This is a good opportunity to try your own crust. I made a pie crust in about 15 minutes. It was straight out of Jeffrey Steingarten's The Man Who Ate Everything. He writes about learning from Marion Cunningham, author of the Fannie Farmer Baking Book and a pie genius. Easiest thing ever. I"ll never fear pie crusts again. Try it. Makes enough that you can put on into a tart mold and freeze for a little tomato, goat cheese, arugula tart... mmm...
And read the book. It's brilliant. (Rishi, good luck getting your copy back.)
So! Back to the tarte... apples, butter, sugar, pastry... slip it into that oven you've had waiting at 400 degrees and bake for a bit... Take it out, carefully - it's like lava at this point - shake the pan to loosen, cover with an upside down plate, flip and slap some good ice cream on it.
Perfect.
It's a skill that will serve you well, you stay at home dads... An easy apple pie that you can whip together and make it seem to your spouse that you've slaved on it all day.
Much the same way you can clean the house in under an hour, bathroom included, before she gets home... That's actually something she does to me. Reads all day and then pretends she's slaved over the house.
I do the same. On my days off, I sometimes shower at 4pm and manage to get dinner on the table right quick claiming it's taken me forever to prepare it. I tracked the beast, killed it with a pocket knife, butchered it and cooked it just after I harvested the good for the salad...
My question is this... Will I have time, with a child, to get away with this trick or is a constant game of catching up?
Go now.
I'm sure I'll be taking a bag and dragging a pregnant wife out to the orchards of New York... near the sad hill they call a ski resort... to pick apples. It's ever so much fun.
This is the reward for the IKEA run we are making tomorrow. We are not buying baby furniture yet.
That's saved for Trimester Three.
But we will be looking.
Back to the apples!
Angie makes applesauce. It's unbelievable.
I couldn't wait for Monday. So, I went to the farmer's market and grabbed a ton of apples ($0.75 a pound) and cranked out a tarte Tartine.
Here's the recipe: Go to Mark Bitteman's site, http://bitten.blogs.nytimes.com/, and look up the recipe. It couldn't be easier. He just explains it better than I, but it's so simple. A huge saute pan overflowing with cored, peeled quartered apples put over a moderate heat with some sugar... Just cook the hell out of it until you've cooked out the liquid, add butter. (yes, Ethel, butter.)
Carmalize them... just brown and sugary and gooey.
Toss them into a smaller, buttered saute. (from a 12" to a 10" or a 10" to an 8"... whatever, this is a pretty loose-y goose-y thing...)
Top it with a pastry crust. It can be store bought, puff pastry, filo... again, whatever.
This is a good opportunity to try your own crust. I made a pie crust in about 15 minutes. It was straight out of Jeffrey Steingarten's The Man Who Ate Everything. He writes about learning from Marion Cunningham, author of the Fannie Farmer Baking Book and a pie genius. Easiest thing ever. I"ll never fear pie crusts again. Try it. Makes enough that you can put on into a tart mold and freeze for a little tomato, goat cheese, arugula tart... mmm...
So! Back to the tarte... apples, butter, sugar, pastry... slip it into that oven you've had waiting at 400 degrees and bake for a bit... Take it out, carefully - it's like lava at this point - shake the pan to loosen, cover with an upside down plate, flip and slap some good ice cream on it.
Perfect.
It's a skill that will serve you well, you stay at home dads... An easy apple pie that you can whip together and make it seem to your spouse that you've slaved on it all day.
Much the same way you can clean the house in under an hour, bathroom included, before she gets home... That's actually something she does to me. Reads all day and then pretends she's slaved over the house.
I do the same. On my days off, I sometimes shower at 4pm and manage to get dinner on the table right quick claiming it's taken me forever to prepare it. I tracked the beast, killed it with a pocket knife, butchered it and cooked it just after I harvested the good for the salad...
My question is this... Will I have time, with a child, to get away with this trick or is a constant game of catching up?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Food!
I’ve long believed that food is love.
Angie and I never had a conversation about the division of labor in our home. Things just sort of fell into place. We each have a different skill set and for some reason mine included a number of domestic skills.
Blame my mother.
Or my grandmothers.
Or the numerous kitchens in which I worked to pay for my first car, prom, rent, drums, all the crap I accumulated in my twenties…
Angie’s skills - her patience, her tact, her singleness of purpose and focus, lend themselves to what she does. I have not mastered these skills.
So… I happen to cook. And as the stay at home pater familias, it’s a skill that should serve me well.
Unless Angie’s craving happens to be jelly beans.
Like now. Nothing I can do about that other than hike to the bodega in search of jelly beans. (Damn you “The Middle” and your jelly bean in the car storyline.
I jumped down to the farmers’ market today. It’s a perfect fall day. Heirloom tomatoes the size of soccer balls. Fresh herbs. Macoun apples. (Some of which Angie will make into applesauce and some will find their way into a tart Tartine.) I’m planning ahead for when we make our own baby food.
I’m finding that comfort food is something Angie craves. Especially if you consider pastrami from Katz’ comfort food. Which in NYC, we do.
I worked my special chili today. No ground meat. (The way we get our ground beef in this country should really be a crime.)
We’re doing some tomato goat cheese tarts, the afore mentioned apple pie, I’ll be baking baguettes, Angela will be working the applesauce and we’re making granola.
What goes into your mate’s body also goes into your child. We’re only doing whole foods; real food.
And no high fructose corn syrup. Guess she won’t be getting jelly beans after all. (Don’t believe the ads put out by the corn industry… the sugars in hfcs are a processed sugar your body doesn’t know what to do with. It may just be a coincidence, but since we’ve replaced sugar with hfcs, rates of autism have risen as have rates of obesity… would rather not risk putting that into my child.)
So, in the sense of community, I’m putting out a call for suggestions… What do I feed her?
Send your recipes! I might share my magic chili.
Angie and I never had a conversation about the division of labor in our home. Things just sort of fell into place. We each have a different skill set and for some reason mine included a number of domestic skills.
Blame my mother.
Or my grandmothers.
Or the numerous kitchens in which I worked to pay for my first car, prom, rent, drums, all the crap I accumulated in my twenties…
Angie’s skills - her patience, her tact, her singleness of purpose and focus, lend themselves to what she does. I have not mastered these skills.
So… I happen to cook. And as the stay at home pater familias, it’s a skill that should serve me well.
Unless Angie’s craving happens to be jelly beans.
Like now. Nothing I can do about that other than hike to the bodega in search of jelly beans. (Damn you “The Middle” and your jelly bean in the car storyline.
I jumped down to the farmers’ market today. It’s a perfect fall day. Heirloom tomatoes the size of soccer balls. Fresh herbs. Macoun apples. (Some of which Angie will make into applesauce and some will find their way into a tart Tartine.) I’m planning ahead for when we make our own baby food.
I’m finding that comfort food is something Angie craves. Especially if you consider pastrami from Katz’ comfort food. Which in NYC, we do.
I worked my special chili today. No ground meat. (The way we get our ground beef in this country should really be a crime.)
We’re doing some tomato goat cheese tarts, the afore mentioned apple pie, I’ll be baking baguettes, Angela will be working the applesauce and we’re making granola.
What goes into your mate’s body also goes into your child. We’re only doing whole foods; real food.
And no high fructose corn syrup. Guess she won’t be getting jelly beans after all. (Don’t believe the ads put out by the corn industry… the sugars in hfcs are a processed sugar your body doesn’t know what to do with. It may just be a coincidence, but since we’ve replaced sugar with hfcs, rates of autism have risen as have rates of obesity… would rather not risk putting that into my child.)
So, in the sense of community, I’m putting out a call for suggestions… What do I feed her?
Send your recipes! I might share my magic chili.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
You knew it was coming...
Sex:
It is possible to have sex with a pregnant woman.
I know this sounds like a no brainer, but it’s sort of scary to think about sex with your wife while a small creature is growing inside her.
It kind of freaks me out.
(Which is probably what my father in-law is doing right now. You might want to skip this one, Mike.)
Apparently sex is not only good for the mother, it’s good for the baby… my wife convinced me of this when she told me, “It’s like a massage…”
Needless to say we had a good laugh over that one, too.
See… sex can be both fun and funny during pregnancy.
It is possible to have sex with a pregnant woman.
I know this sounds like a no brainer, but it’s sort of scary to think about sex with your wife while a small creature is growing inside her.
It kind of freaks me out.
(Which is probably what my father in-law is doing right now. You might want to skip this one, Mike.)
Apparently sex is not only good for the mother, it’s good for the baby… my wife convinced me of this when she told me, “It’s like a massage…”
Needless to say we had a good laugh over that one, too.
See… sex can be both fun and funny during pregnancy.
How quickly things change
We conceived on the first try.
I understand if that's more than you needed to know.
It also happens to be true.
I wanted to start this web log with one true thing.
How do I know this is one true thing?
I'd rather not get into the intricacies of it all, but trust me, it's one true thing.
I have made the shift from writing a poli-blog, where there are very few "true things" let alone one, to a blog that is very personal and that I hope will be much more enjoyable to read. After all, that is the purpose of writing, right? To have it read.
I write a screenplay so it can be made, not so it can sit in my drawer. I write this so it can be read. If it gets a good following, them perhaps we turn it into a community, one where we learn together on this little ride.
So.
I'm about the be a father.
Not really "about" to be... it's going to take another six months.
But, I am the male in the equation, therefore, in six months, I'll be the proud father to a little VanDijk. We don't know the sex yet, but my wife seems convinced, as does my mother, that it's a girl.
My wife, Angela, who pens the lovely blog, the actors wife, has not been sick. (knock wood) We have not had to deal with the dreaded morning sickness.
She's had other issues - she's always hot, which is not normal for she-of-the-wool-sweater-in-June. And she was awake at midnight. For those of you who know my wife, that's three hours past her normal bed time.
Things seem to be moving along swimmingly.
So, this is the first of many posts that will hopefully be as interesting and enjoyable to you to read as they are enlightening for me to write.
I understand if that's more than you needed to know.
It also happens to be true.
I wanted to start this web log with one true thing.
How do I know this is one true thing?
I'd rather not get into the intricacies of it all, but trust me, it's one true thing.
I have made the shift from writing a poli-blog, where there are very few "true things" let alone one, to a blog that is very personal and that I hope will be much more enjoyable to read. After all, that is the purpose of writing, right? To have it read.
I write a screenplay so it can be made, not so it can sit in my drawer. I write this so it can be read. If it gets a good following, them perhaps we turn it into a community, one where we learn together on this little ride.
So.
I'm about the be a father.
Not really "about" to be... it's going to take another six months.
But, I am the male in the equation, therefore, in six months, I'll be the proud father to a little VanDijk. We don't know the sex yet, but my wife seems convinced, as does my mother, that it's a girl.
My wife, Angela, who pens the lovely blog, the actors wife, has not been sick. (knock wood) We have not had to deal with the dreaded morning sickness.
She's had other issues - she's always hot, which is not normal for she-of-the-wool-sweater-in-June. And she was awake at midnight. For those of you who know my wife, that's three hours past her normal bed time.
Things seem to be moving along swimmingly.
So, this is the first of many posts that will hopefully be as interesting and enjoyable to you to read as they are enlightening for me to write.
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