I'm officially not accepting calls on Tuesday nights anymore. Not since I discovered "One Born Every Minute," a Lifetime reality show documenting real labors and deliveries at Riverside Methodist Hospital. Cleverly, Lifetime installed 40 ceiling-mounted cameras in the labor and delivery ward. Each camera has the ability to rotate 360 degrees, giving viewers a first-row seat for each of these miracle deliveries.
I love this show.
It doesn't help that it premiered on the heels of a weekend spent watching "Father of the Bride I" and "Father of the Bride II." And then "Father of the Bride II," again. Or that after watching "Father of the Bride II" the first time, I gushed all over Mr. Starlet that I want to have more children. Four, to be exact. Better yet, twins the next time! Or that after watching the first episode of "One Born Every Minute," I gave Mr. Starlet a play-by-play review and asked him to watch the second episode with me. Right now.
My ovaries are aching, especially since I realized that Punk was Poopalina's age when the stork surprised us. Again.
It also doesn't help that Punk will soon turn 2. I remember when we dressed her to bring her home from the hospital and she practically drowned in her Newborn-sized outfit. Now she's clunking around in my shoes, slinging purses over her shoulder, and asking to wear Mommy's sunglasses.
It hurts. It's wonderful and unforgettable and a wouldn't-trade-a-single minute kind of perfect. But it's going too quickly, and only getting faster.
Sigh.
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