"Hello?"
"Hi, this is the school nurse calling regarding Jake."
"Ohmygod, is he okay?"
"Yes, I am just calling regarding his hand."
"Oh, yes, well, um, he hurt it last night playing football. I supposed he jammed it."
Ok, you are talking to a nurse. You might not want to diagnose.
"Well, I really think it should be looked at. He came in because it was hurting and I splinted it."
"Oh, well, yes. I mean, I thought the same thing, but my husband..." (of course, Eric's fault)
"Of course. I wouldn't worry. I just would have it looked at to be cautious."
After the call, I sit on the bed, reeling from worry, embarassment, and fever. This is day one suffering from the cold I caught from Jake. Then, because I am the mother, I gather myself and call his pediatrician, who wisely suggests that I take him immediately to the ER for pictures.
Swig of Dayquil. (Did I do one of those already? My head is so fuzzy.) Shower and go get Jake. I can do this. Before I step into the shower, the phone rings and I can see it is my friend Shirli, checking on me.
"Hello?"
"Where are you?" She asks. "I just saw Jake."
"I'm on my way," I tell her. "Is he hurting?"
"Well, he's upset."
Wow. He seemed fine this morning.
"He saw me and asked me to call you to make sure you were coming in time."
Silence from me. What? More fuzziness.
"I'm at the Student of the Month ceremony. Are you going to make it?"
OHMYGOD. This morning--right now--is the ceremony for the Students of the Month, and Jake is one of them. HE WORKED SO HARD FOR THIS. HOW COULD I FORGET? WE JUST TOOK HIM TO DINNER TWO NIGHTS AGO TO CELEBRATE.
I explain to Shirli that I won't be there, as there are a mere five minutes remaining until the lengthy, two-minute ceremony. She, my friend-angel, promises to take pictures and cheer for him.
As I race through my shower and try to remember if I took my cold medicine, it occurs to me that I must stop forgetting important award ceremonies. Because I want to be present when I waste all the other contenders for Best Mother of the Year award.
2 comments:
This is hilarious!
So you're turning into fodder for the shrink!
Don't worry about it! You're making a big deal out o' nuttin'. My Dad didn't even come to my high school graduation ceremony. Despite my fadduh's attempts at makin' fodder, I turned out normal....at least that's what my therapist and I are trying to convince myself of that and other stuff and problems that and I can't face that are in my head but they seem real.
Laura, isn't it reassuring when you get people with precarious sanity telling you really, it's fine, no problem!
Just Diane...of the precarious sanity.
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