Welcome to Zach's Blog

After seemingly endless prodding, teasing and thinly veiled condescension from friends and family, my wife and I have finally succumbed to peer pressure and have entered the 21st century. That's right, we are now officially "blogging". Besides, what better way to introduce ourselves to this mysterious and novel medium than through the shameless exploitation of our wonderful little boy, Zachary Winston Williams. Since before he was even born Zach has been a constant source of "oohs" and "aahs" which I have piously and painstakingly documented with my camera. Indeed, you- the common citizen of the Internet, will no longer have to miss out on precious moments such as "Baby's first dirty diaper" or "Baby blows milk out his nose all over mom".

During the first months of his life, Zach has had his photograph taken ad nauseum. I have countless photos of myself, Lesley, friends, family and a few complete strangers holding our son in every possible setting imaginable. There are so many photos in fact, that it would be impractical and maybe even a bit cruel to post them all here. So in order to conserve both available memory and the readers sanity, the plan is to pick a 'small' handful of the best pictures and include a link to my flickr website for those with the fortitude to tackle the rest.

On my son's behalf, I would like to extend my sincerest appreciation and gratitude for your interest in his life. I hope all of you will enjoy watching him grow and develop over the next months and years. I know I will.
~Kacy

ArtZ

ArtZ

Monday, July 19, 2010

My Own Little God

The hardest part about having kids, hands down, is the way they botch up all your plans. Just a minute. It's Zachary. He wants some scrambled eggs.

Okay. I'm back. You see there? It's not like it was hard to make scrambled eggs. The actual event of making eggs isn't the hard part. The hard part is the way my plan to write this blog post clashed with Zach's need to have scrambled eggs.

"Daddy. Outside?"
"I don't know Son. Ask your mother if you can play outside. I'm kind of in the middle of trying to wri-"

"Disnand"

"No, we're not going to Disneyland right now. I'm trying to- NO! STOP IT! DON'T SIT ON THAT! YOU CAN'T DO THAT TO THE DOGS HEAD! HE'S GONNA-"

"More candy?"

"Wha-? No, you just had a piece."

There's a weird kind of psychic pain that accompanies having your plans interrupted. It's not like having someone sit on your head. But still. It hurts. Because it's your will. It's like you want to do what you want to do but the kids- they destroy that. The kids destroy what you want. Just a sec-

"Excuse me, what?"

"I love you Daddy"

"Aw, I love you too, Zachary. And guess what. I'm gonna love you even more in 10 minutes after you let me finish writing this blog post."

See? That was sweet. It's not like I'm saying my kid is terrible. The point I'm trying to make is subtle. Even being interrupted to be told that I'm loved is a sudden readjustment to my intentions and it's bracing.

When you think about it, what you want could be construed as a definition of who you are. So kids are constantly messing with who you are. Zach just knocked a glass of red juice onto the keyboard. Zach just knocked a glass of red juice onto the keyboard. Zach just knocked a glass of red juice onto the keyboard.

Shit. I have to hurry. Last night, I was reading- the boy was sleeping, but you're still never safe- and I came across this Carl Jung quote. It really hit home, so I wanted to share it with you.

To this day God is the name by which- "I'm sure it's important Zachary, but I'm right in the middle of a really cool Carl Jung quote. Gimme two minutes."- I designate all things which cross my willful path violently and recklessly, all things which upset my subjective views, plans and intentions- "I don't care that Elmo just ate a banana. Just watch your video and, please, spare me the running commentary."- and change the course of my life for better or worse.

In other words, Gods destroy what you want and mess with who you are. They do this because there's so much more- worlds and worlds- than you and what you want. And kids are more than kids. They're little gods. Honor them.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Typical Kacy. Out there and spot-on. Trust me, your children define you more than any intention you may think you have. Thank you. We appreciate the interruption of whatever else we may have had in mind.