In his book "Babies and Other Hazards of Sex," goofball Dave Barry gets it absolutely right on Page 33.

There, a cartoon depicts a platoon of strangers — including the sheriff, the preacher, the cleaning lady with mop bucket and the neighborhood dog — watching a woman in childbirth, the most vulnerable, embarrassing moment she'll ever experience.

That's the kind of thing Bristol Palin has to look forward to now that her mother is running for vice president.

And it's really no laughing matter.

Bristol is the five-months'-pregnant-but-unmarried 17-year-old daughter of Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, who was chosen as Sen. John McCain's running mate on the Republican ticket.

The young woman and her 18-year-old boyfriend we're told she plans to wed have virtually lost their privacy to her mother's political ambitions.

Probably ranks right up there with the nightmarishness of having to tell their parents about the pregnancy in the first place.

Republican religious conservatives for whom Sarah Palin holds enormous appeal as a candidate sounded amazingly reserved about it all.

"All it really means is that she and her family are human," Focus on the Family's James Dobson was quoted as saying.

Now, I don't believe for a minute that these same "family values" Republicans who insist that "liberals" have shabby, if not nonexistent, morals would be so tolerant if this were Barack Obama's 17-year-old who was pregnant or if Michelle Obama had gone back to work three days after giving birth to a son with Down syndrome (as Palin reportedly did).

But maybe a national spotlight on a working mother who is facing crises at home will be good for public debate about the challenges American families juggle every day — and the choices American women have to make.

This hasn't been a factor in any previous presidential race.

"Life happens in families," said Steve Schmidt, McCain's chief strategist.

Republicans, Democrats and folks who claim no political party at all can attest to that.

Clear-cut rules and well-defined standards are necessary and wonderful aspirations. But they often bump head-on with the gray areas and unintended consequences and ill-timed turns of events that go along with human frailty.

It might be unfair, but as voters assess Palin's character, she's in for scrutiny not just as an elected official but also as a mother.

She accomplished no small feat by going from homeroom mom to mayor to governor and learning to play not just against the good ol' boys but with them. She's a serious multitasker, as any modern working mother has to be.

She deserves credit for continuing her fifth pregnancy after learning that her son had Down syndrome (though I wouldn't for a minute question another woman's decision to take a different course under undoubtedly wrenching circumstances).

She was back on the job within days of giving birth, which isn't unusual. Thousands of American women return to work three months, three weeks, even three days after their children are born, though many do it not because they want to but because they can't afford not to.

With a special-needs infant and a pregnant teenager in the house, Palin would have her hands full even if she didn't have a more-than-full-time job leading a state.

So now she adds to the demands by trying to advance her career? And it doesn't seem to bother some of the people you'd think it would bother.

Even though Palin's husband, Todd, and daughters will no doubt pitch in to keep their household running while she campaigns, the reality is that someone else will be raising her kids while she's stumping for votes.

And someone else will be raising her kids if she wins the second-highest office in the land.

It's the kind of trade-off that executive women confront every day. Equal opportunity was designed to give them that option, and each has to assess what works best for her and her family.

But here's what nags: Sure, the vice presidency is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but is this really the choice you're supposed to make after you decide to keep the child?

Linda P. Campbell is a columnist and editorial writer for the Fort Worth (Texas) Star-Telegram.