I am so screwed.

So, based on some of the things I did when I was little, I have pretty much decided when it comes to raising a child, that I am screwed. For example, I remember putting my thumb on our car's cigarette lighter as soon as it wasn't red anymore, because I wanted to see if it was still hot. My mom took me to the store with her, and I ended up sticking my fingers in between the slots of a fan in the grocery freezer. I cried and cried, it hurt so bad, and my poor mom thought the tip of my finger would fall off. It didn't. I just lost my nail and it hurt really bad for a really long time.

Then there was this time, when my brother Tim took me on a bike ride across an interstate right after I had gotten the training wheels off my bike. OK, that was assisted stupidity, but it ended in bloody gravel, a hot bath, and tears. I survived but I remember Mom being horrified because she thought I would lose all my teeth. Oh, the things I did when I was little.

Some of them were pure accident. I broke my arm when I was running away from some dumb boy and fell over the top of the slide on the playground. I bumped my head over and over for many reasons. I knocked the wind out of myself when I was roller skating in the house and ran into the wall. Give me a break, I was probably only 4 at the time.

When I was older, I set the backyard on fire with fireworks. Nothing really explosive, but I didn't think much about the dry, dry summer grass that caught flames instantly. I had to put it out with a hose. I backed the car into the brick wall next to the garage more than once. I also ran into my dad's work bench with it on repeated occasions.

Hell, just a few months ago I caught my desk on fire because I left a candle burning. Mr. W now not only has to be mindful of me, but also a baby. If I had been born in the 90s, I would have likely been diagnosed ADD and medicated. Instead, without meds, I have grown up to be a very productive member of society that has a few more "oops" episodes than most. The years ahead should prove to be interesting.

Thanks to Mr. W, who grew up with siblings closer in age to him, I am scared to have any additional babies. He got hit in the face with some sharp garden tool by his brother when he was little. They set a pan on fire and buried it in the garden so their mom wouldn't find it. And I am well aware of all the lovely things I did to my brothers and sister. Primarily my sister, since destroying her stuff was way more fun.

Oh yes, it's the start of a long 18 years. This could get interesting.