What a difference a year makes - TMI ahoy!

A year ago, our child was only a tracking number.

Or, actually, two tracking numbers.

First, 1zW7A5844450175374, for delivery on Saturday, October 4th, motivating me to go swiftly through a 19 mile run starting at 7:30 am. Members of my running group invited me out to breakfast afterwards (though I think it's called brunch after you've run 19 miles, regardless of how early in the day), but I declined for mysterious unspecified reasons. This was more of an insurance policy given the unfortunate no-shipments for Sunday and Monday window we were dealing with, because alas, overnight shipping operates on the assumption of a business week.

Then, the tracking number that is more probably responsible: 1Z W7A 584 01 5025 089 0, for delivery on Tuesday, October 7th.

I still smile broadly every time I see a UPS truck making deliveries. I graciously forgive all kinds of bizarre parking and traffic-blocking. I feel a bizarre sentimental attachment to the ridiculously unflattering brown shorts outfits. How could I not?

But, most of all, I am still totally and utterly flabbergasted that this actually worked.

Looking back it seems very much like some kind of bizarre-o scenario concocted by ad executives looking for a way to make UPS integral to warm, touching, family-interest stories, at least in an alternate universe where same-sex families are not controversial and no one is overly squeamish about biology basics.

The idea that we could conceive a baby by UPS seems sweet and quaint, but a clearly implausible fairy tale, with fun sci-fi twist.

Who knew that a year later we'd have a real, live, happy baby? A baby that Stephanie would agree to name JOLYON? A baby that we would be moving to our house on an island within the week? What kind of crazy wish-fulfillment scenario have I walked in on instead of my life?

But, apparently, no, life really is that awesome.


Disclosure: This has not been a paid endorsement for UPS.