kids, part 1: RWF

In HBO's "Big Love" last night Nikki has an outburst about babies: "Babies babies babies, I'm sick of hearing about babies!"  Her reasons are linked to her position as one of three wives who has reproduced less often than have the others.  I used to feel like her, but when I add up all the kids in my life I come up with quite a list, each of them extremely interesting and friend-worthy, even if they weren't my "relatives."  I will go into detail regarding all of them sometime in the course of this blogging experiment, but I'll start with R Dub right now, with whom I talked at length the other day from his less-than-groovy position in Camp Kick Our Ass in A Bunch of Damn Palms, California.  He was a little down that day, as his request to deploy to Afghanistan with some of his brothers had been turned down so that he might do something else for the Marines for the next three years outside of (shudder) Pensacola.  He has a wife and a new puppy and a Harley and lives in San Diego, which is almost paradise.  Now he has to move to (shudder) Florida.  The family is relieved that he isn't being sent to more dangerous climes, but I understand his moving and separation angst.  He's learning a lot of really valuable (and employ-able) skills now, and college is in his consciousness.  Babies, babies, babies: Why do they send babies to war, is what I would like to know.