The story behind the title

There actually is a story behind the title, "Is This My Life or a Sitcom?" I think I was about 5 or 6 the first time I wondered it. It was right after my mom told me a story about my birth. At the time I was a regular viewer of The Dick Van Dyke Show and I could imagine Dick Van Dyke playing the part of my dad in the story.

I was my parents' first child. My dad was very frazzled at the thought of becoming a father. My mom, who was 18 at the time, was much calmer about the whole thing. My mom had a hard time keeping any food down and basically lived on saltines (I hate salt), Bosco (I am addicted to chocolate) and peanut butter (I am allergic to peanuts). Dad, on the other hand, had constant food cravings and gained 40 lbs during the pregnancy.

My mother went into labor with me during a snowstorm (my birthday is December 16). My dad wanted to take her right to the hospital, but the doctor had told her to come in when the pains were 5 minutes apart and she wasn't going to go in a second sooner. My dad was pacing and getting all anxious. Mom decided that she didn't want to bring a baby home to a dirty house so she got down on her hands and knees and started scrubbing the floors. Dad was driving her crazy so she sent him outside to shovel. Every time he came back in the house she found another thing to be cleaned and he just kept going out to shovel the already shoveled sidewalk.

Finally, the pains were five minutes apart. Dad was getting really impatient and Mom asked him, "Is the car cleaned off?" My dad got a panicked look on his face. He had managed to keep the sidewalks snow free, but hadn't given any thought to the car. He told my mom to put on her coat and sit down and wait for him to come back. He was going to warm-up the car and clean it off. My mom heard my dad start the car. She got her coat and put her suitcase by the front door. She sat down. She heard Dad drive away. She looked out the door and he was gone. So she just sat down and waited.

Dad said that he really thought that Mom was in the car with him. He remembered going back and getting her. He talked to her the whole way to the hospital. Once he got there he turned around to tell her that he was going to let her off while he parked. It was only then that he realized that he had never gone back to get her. He sped all the way home, going through stop signs and red lights. He got home 40 minutes after he left the first time. Mom was sitting exactly where he had told her to sit for all of that time. She was sure he'd come back for her and that they had plenty of time. She was right, of course, and I was born 16 hours after they got to the hospital.