Another true story straight from the trenches of motherhood: May 17, 2012
Upon arriving at work, I stand in a fluorescent lit box and desperately attempt to focus on these circles with arrows on them. I stare.
A voice questions, “Up?”
“Yes, I want up.”
The same voice asks, “What floor?”
My eyes concentrate ahead hoping a number will step forth to be identified. “Um, 6? Yes. 6.”
My uterus expelled its contents months before, and still, successive hours of sleep are not possible.
Later during a procedure, after whistling the Jeopardy them song, Doctor X asks, “Did you get your hair cut this weekend?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t even know what day of the week it is, do you?”
“It’s Monday, right?” I quickly check to make sure my scrubs are not inside-out.
He knows. “My wife and I had calculated out the trajectory from my son’s window, and often wondered if we could make people believe he crawled out the window.”
Me, nervously, “Ha…haha…ha…ha…”
Then he professes a very informative lesson. “And he turned out to be the good kid. Our daughter on the other hand became a drama queen. That just goes to show you that current performance is never an indicator of future performance.”
True. So true.