As Father's Day rolls around, I look back at my years of fatherhood as a parent and there is one word that quickly springs to mind: naive. That's French for "Buddy, you don't have a clue."

This was appreciated early on in my fatherhood experience as I will forever be able to recall that overwhelming feeling of trepidation when we first brought home our newborn son. For some seemingly inexplicable reason, I began to hear Rod Serling of Twilight Zone fame. However, he wasn't reciting the normal introduction to his television show. He was instead warning me of the Newborn Zone and fatherhood. This one-man welcome wagon offered the following:

You're about to travel to another dimension. A fatherhood dimension where time cannot be saved, where sleep seems a distant memory, where night is day and day is night. But, where smiles and laughter are contagious. It contains the depth of our fears and the height of our passion. That's the crib post up ahead - your next stop, the Newborn Zone.

The euphoria of experiencing fatherhood was being mixed with the reality of the moment. The product was apprehension. I suddenly realized I was infant illiterate. If ignorance is bliss, I should have been downright ecstatic.

Sure, prenatal classes had educated me somewhat as to labor and delivery, but I felt a sudden vacancy in my knowledge of post-birth fatherhood events. Namely, the area then causing my anxiety was that other frame of time entitled "childhood". It quickly dawned on me that, as a father, the handles of responsibility could be a little slippery at times.

Over the years I would at times feel a little more confident in this new fatherhood role. However, every time that occurred, I'd be awakened by the realization I was entering another "zone" of fatherhood without any firsthand experience.

I distinctively recall entering the "Two Year Old Zone", or the time frame more aptly recalled as "The Rebel Without a Pause" where my fatherhood expertise would be put to the test. It was then that my two-year-old shot me the infamous look as I admonished him to not climb under the kitchen table. The look appeared to be an imitation of Robert DeNiro's tough guy in Taxi Driver with his repetitive question of "Are you talkin' to me?"

As my son continued his journey under the table, I was certain he was thinking, "Does that guy think he owns the place?" The showdown at the O.K. Corral had occurred. As he was galloping far off into the sunset, I was still looking for my horse. I knew he was just asserting his independence. Independence from what, was my question. During my fatherhood experience, it seemed to me his first two years resembled a continuous, all-expense paid vacation with a personal valet. I could use a little of that oppressive regime.

I survived the "Two Year Old Zone", but fatherhood would next bring me into the "Whirlwind Zone" where my three-year-old exhibited the energy level of the Tasmanian Devil. All the more impressive, he was doing it consistently without the benefit of caffeine. Despite his remarkable stamina, it was at this juncture of fatherhood that I began to feel assured that I could handle all that came my way. I had been tried and tested. I was strong. I was poised. I was ready. I was wrong.

My misplaced confidence with fatherhood was never more apparent than with the arrival of my second child. Right when I was beginning to feel a little more in control, I suddenly realized I was now outnumbered. The "Multiple Child Zone" was upon me.

Of course, the beauty of a second child-and all the joys of watching your child develop-were coming around again, but it also meant a return trip to previously visited fatherhood "Zones." I could only wish that I had taken better notes.

As I continue the ongoing fatherhood evolution in this position, I do recognize that I've learned a few things about fatherhood along the way. But I still hear Rod Serling's voice from time to time when I feel a little too secure. As he would say:

Fatherhood is a lifelong journey. At times too incredible to be real, too real to be a dream. A continuous voyage into uncharted territory. Try to prepare for the unforeseen.

I know the future will bring more untested waters, but I also know there will be happiness and fun in endless supply. Even Rod Serling would have to agree, that is what life is all about and fatherhood is no different.