One upon a time, in a magical world free of responsibilities, I started University. I had grand plans of going through and getting a PhD and becoming the next John Douglas, or failing that Kathy Reichs. God, and if I had to, I'd become a professor. It's just that easy! You show up to class (or....you don't) and voila, someday you're rich and powerful. How's that working for you, Phronk? Hee.
Since I had 10 years of schooling to look forward to, I didn't have time to have kids or whatnot. But since I was 19, living in a dorm, and taking bullshit elective courses, I did have plenty of time for partying and having sex. Can you see where this is going? Me neither.
A week before my second year was to start, I was alerted to the fact I seemed to be missing something. Hmm, yeah, that's weird, I'll take a pregnancy test for shits and giggles. Suffice to say there was some nervous giggling and shitting of pants.
And thus ended the first chapter in my quest for a B.A. But the once upon a time did end happily ever after as I married the dude who knocked me up and had 3 more kids with him for good measure. My grandma is always bitching I never finish what I started, but hello, I'm HARDCORE on the birthing here.