Summer: a time to leave the back door open, make sun tea, break out the vinyl and play some of my parents' handed down records, explore vacant lots, eat local food, dig in the garden, sit on the stoop with a book and a beer.

Above all, a time to revel in the freedom and liesure only the summer months truly afford before fatherhood arrives like a stray meteorite through the kitchen window.

There are a few of you I still haven't told about the babies. If this post is the first you've heard of it, my apologies. It's been a big, radical year and I've staggered through the process of trying to keep up with friends about all that's happening. If I failed to call you, I'll be in touch soon.

Since that’s out of the way, let it be known: Jean's pregnant with twins. Come late October, I'm gonna be a daddy. J is my wife now, and I'm very happily her husband. (something to write more about another day.)

Basically, the sky is falling, but in a very good way.

It's enormous news, beyond enormous. I'm excited, proud, scared, floating on air, all the intensity of emotion you'd expect. Yet despite this, it's the most natural thing in the world for me to walk down this road, bringing new life into the world. One of the things I was born to do.

The father-protector instincts have kicked in big time. I worry about money, fret when J seems overtired, cook a lot. In fact, cooking is one of my calmest activities: I enter a zenlike meditative state while slicing radishes and stemming the fresh organic greens that come with each week's CSA share, my mind empty save for the anticipation of nourishment.

I'm also madly educating myself on pregnancy and caring for a newborn: reading the pregnancy manuals, the blogs, the discussion forums, you name it. William and Martha Sears 'pregnancy book' is the best tome I've combed yet yet. The twins & multiples books (we have two) are poor by comparison. These have replaced my literature and science fiction fixes.

And I spend a lot of time dreaming of things to come: a couple bald heads in a crib in the extra room, tiny hands clasping my fingers, eyes that widen at the sound of my voice, and of course about 10,000 dirty diapers. Two new and utterly helpless humans on the scene, and I'll be their pappy, suddenly and forever.