Year One

I'll admit it, I'm the last person who thought I'd start a blog.  After all, there are dozens of notebooks collecting dust and spiderwebs somewhere in my parents' basement that contain, within the curlicues of handwriting developed pre-keyboard and pre-smart phone, the silly hubris juxtaposed with dramatic melancholy that was my teenage self.

Come to think of it, I haven't changed much.  Which is why a blog is probably a bad idea.  Except that Armando and I are about to welcome a whole new squirming, perfect mini-person whose every smile, sneeze and bowel movement we will take immense pride in and whose antics deserve some sort of chronicling and documentation, even though the internet as we know it will likely be unrecognizable in 20 years when she might be receptive to appreciating her mother's rambling thoughts about her babyhood.

On a more practical note, we have loved ones scattered across the globe, and I happen to know of at least a few grandparents and aunts and uncles who might appreciate reading about her antics in real-time.

I broached the idea to Armando last night, mid-dinner (in appreciation of our still-baby-less-selves, we were eating in front of the TV), and he gave me a wry smile.  Don't worry, I said, you can make it password-protected so any old creep can't just google us and start stalking our daughter.  Good, he said.

So. Welcome to our blog.  Please come back and visit often.