When I found out I was pregnant, the first thing I did was think of all the wonderful blogging opportunities it would afford me.
Okay, that's not actually true. The first thing I did was take five thousand more pregnancy tests to make sure this was indeed real life, followed by about two hours of rocking back and forth on the floor, staring at all the double pink lines and repeating, "Holycrapholycrapholycrapholycrap," over and over.
But after that, the blog thing.
I imagined myself regaling you with delightfully wacky tales of my misadventures in baby-growing, which would no doubt have been presented with equal parts hyperbole and hilarity. I seriously could not wait until the first trimester was over so I'd be allowed to talk about it.
Then it got real.
I'm not even going to tell you about it, except to say that it was bad and that from the bottom of my heart, I sincerely hope none of you (or your wives) ever experience anything like it. I wish you all perfect pregnancies - the kind with no stretch marks or morning sickness or...any other unmentionable thing that might happen during pregnancy...plus butterflies and rainbows and the means to buy at least one thing from Pottery Barn Kids without having to take out a second mortgage on your house.
Anyway, this is basically just to let you know that you can rest assured you won't be hearing any gross pregnancy things on this blog, and the same goes for gross baby things once Carolina is born. This is partly because I believe it's possible to be funny without resorting to chronicling every horrific poopscapade and partly because I'm pretty sure the internet will still be around once she and her friends are old enough to read, and growing up is hard enough without having your every diaper rash/bout of stomach flu/weird bowel movement immortalized in a Facebook album.