Pregnancy

The thrill is as overwhelming as the uncertainty that dominates your time.

"Do we need that?"

"Breast feeding or bottle?"

"Diaper Genie or Diaper Champ?"

Plus binkies, onsies, unsolicited advice from strangers, and on and on. Your every thought is of just how life-altering that little, growing bundle will be. There is much to discuss.

When I was young, our TV offered four options: Snow, snow, snow, and channel 16. Yet, it was always on. The dial listed 13 channels, but that was a lie.

Each turn clicked to the next static-y station. Most of the time we settled on Bowling for Dollars or M*A*S*H. Saturday was TV Day in our world, and my sisters and I sat glued to the screen to view the four weekly hours of programming meant for us. Tom and Jerry, Deputy Dog, and the Road Runner fought, schemed, and plotted their way into our hearts. And who could forget the old anvil-to-the-head trick?

If you missed your show, you were out of luck. Back to snow and M*A*S*H for another week.

That was then.

Thanks to the miracle of TiVo, my kids think nothing of rewinding live TV, hitting the pause button or asking for a specific episode of a specific show. I feel tempted to give the "when I was your age..." speech, but it would be lost on two toddlers.

I’ve got a small, round scar on my right arm. It’s part of a matching set; its counterpart is on my left arm in nearly the same spot. They’re a result of my own failure to follow instructions.

Don’t scratch.

Chicken pox swept through my 2nd grade like the Angel of Death. At one point, every student was stuck at home, watching The Price Is Right and smearing themselves with calamine lotion.

The first time Grace ever threw up -- not spit up, but a full evacuation of her tiny little innards -- was all over me. In fact, the two of us were home alone.

That time she fell down the stairs and spent the night in the hospital, I was carrying her.

The day William decided to see what the inside of his forehead looks like by bashing it onto the fireplace ... me again.

No, I'm not negligent or clumsy. There's something much greater than that at work here. It's the Baby Gods. They're testing me, and I don't know why.

Last weekend, I did something that I'm not proud of. As part of my punishment, I've decided to share my story with all of you. Before I begin, let me present my flimsy case.