For whatever crazy reason, I willingly volunteered myself to write a weekly column for the hometown newspaper. Whether it’s needing to tap into a smidge of my intellectual side, or simply the product of sleep-deprivation induced insanity, I am now committed to several hours each week of writing a column.
Almost every time I have the deadline looming in front of me, I hate myself for committing to this weekly writing project. But without fail, when I’m done, I’m thankful to accomplish something tangible in busy blur of raising our monkeys. And of course, I’m the most happy that some of the daily craziness of our life is permanently recorded. There’s no way I would ever remember all of these details about frequent household atrocities and moving 1,000 miles cross country otherwise.
After six months of writing, I’m starting to understand that the writing isn’t just for me. In the universal human conditions of parenthood and adulthood, there is plenty of therapeutic value in sharing the triumphs and defeats. Maybe you never had to scrub most of a bottle of chocolate syrup out of the living room carpet, but you can probably relate or maybe know someone who lit the carpet on fire instead. Kids are kids, and that doesn’t change no matter how many electronic devices we throw at them.
With so many friends and family out of the range of my hometown newspaper and weekly column, I decided to make the sordid and sublime details of my life easily accessible on the web. And so, this blog was born.
Thanks for stopping by.