22 June 2013

one Of My less classy Moments

The other day, the baby was acting a bit odd. Fussy. Clingy. Uncomfortable. I figured she was just tired. After a 3 hour nap (three hours, I kid you not!) she woke up and was still fussy, clingy and uncomfortable. She was also alarmingly hot to the touch.

My "mommy-senses" started tingling and I immediately called the pediatrician's office.

By the way. Mother's intuition. It's a real thing. It's wacky, too. Don't underestimate its power.

They said if I could get there in 20 minutes then someone could see me. We live a whopping 5 minute drive up the road. Yes, thank you, I'll be there.

Here's the thing. I thought they meant, "be here within the next 20 minutes and we'll save your ailing daughter" but what they meant was, "we'll pencil you in for an appointment in half an hour, but come in 20 minutes just in case there's paperwork." These are two very different statements, as I now know.

So I, frazzled and worried, frantically threw on my slip-on shoes and scrabbled for my purse while my husband got her into her carseat, and then we were OFF! There was not a moment to lose!!

I showed up at 3:15 and as I was signing in I asked, "What time, exactly, is my appointment set for?" The nurse answered nonchalantly, "3:40."


You're telling me I've got to wait with a feverish baby for another (quick, do math) twenty-five minutes??
Fine. You know what? Fine. Whatever.

So we went into the waiting room and I rocked, bounced, and spoke in soothing tones as some mortifying realizations came to me....

...I had not showered yet that day. I hadn't been planning on going anywhere, so showering hadn't been high on that day's to-do list. My hair was a bit on the grungy side, as a result. Not only that, but I wasn't even technically dressed (don't panic! let me explain!!). I had changed my pajama pants out for some comfortable capris, but I hadn't bothered changing my shirt (again, I wasn't going to go anywhere, why bother?). I was still wearing the raggedy, over-sized t-shirt with holes in it, that I had slept in the night before. And guess what, that also means I hadn't changed into a normal bra, I was still wearing my "nursing sleep bra" (for you guys and gals that didn't know there was a difference in bra types, now you know. It's extremely comfortable, too, by the way, I just don't think it was ever meant to be worn in public...). Remember how I hadn't showered? Yeah, that means I hadn't shaved that day, either. It was nothing morbid, just a bit prickly. Noticeably so.

But wait, there's more.

I had a chance to see myself briefly in a mirror while I was waiting and that very day (oh gawsh this is awful, and it's going to sound made up, but it's completely true) I had this obnoxious pimple on the very end of my nose, dead center, that was absolutely impossible to miss and impossible not to gawk at (why, oh why, do I feel compelled to confess these things here?). Of course, as per my usual, I was not wearing a speck of makeup. There was no way to hide the mess that I was. Not even a little.

And it occurred to me that I could have used those 25 minutes to make myself a tad more presentable instead of awkwardly dodging looks from the other mothers in the waiting area. I felt like such an idiot for rushing out of the house in a blind panic the way I did. I had plenty of time, I could have at least glanced in a mirror, for pity's sake!

(I'd say "live and learn" right here, but I'll probably do it again.)

(...and again and again...)

I'm sure most of them were looking at this greasy, unseemly, stressed out mess of a woman and thinking, "Geez, she could at least take some pride in her appearance, if not for her sake then for ours."
I can accept that, as long as I'm allowed to delude myself into believing that at least one person witnessed the spectacle that was me and thought, "Now there's an obviously concerned mother who would sacrifice her own pride for her child's welfare. Good for her. I hope her baby's alright."

Thank you, person-I-just-made-up-in-my-head. Thank you for giving me the benefit of the doubt. If you were real, we'd probably be bestest buddies and watch Star Trek together in our pajamas. You're a good soul.

Note: The baby is alright now. She had a startling fever of 104.2 (Faranheit) but she got through it just fine.

20 June 2013

the Adulthood facade

I'm slowly but surely being inducted into a group of mothers. We talk about "mom stuff." You know, pediatrician visits, where to get cheap kid's clothing, funny kid moments and embarrassing mother-of-the-year moments.

I'm pretty good at pretending to be an adult with this group. I think I've got them fooled.

After these camaraderie visits, I go home, set the baby on the floor with her toys and I play video games for awhile. Read webcomics. Draw goofy comicstrips in my sketchbook.
I'm 26 but I still pass the time like a 16 year old.

It amuses me to imagine what the other mothers would think if they could see my typical afternoons.

In my defense, I did vacuum today. AND cooked breakfast. AND did laundry. I'm not a total loafer.

Granted, I haven't showered, done dishes, or swept...BUT my Jester in Gauntlet: Dark Legacy is now at level 50. So, you know...

...obviously I've been busy today.

09 June 2013

I crave Knowledge And experience, But Mostly poetry

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun...there are millions of suns left,
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand...nor look through the eyes of the dead...nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself.

~Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass