If you need a reminder that you are not the dumbest person ever, read on. I'm here to make you feel better.
(It's very telling that I just typed "I'm hear" and then stared at it for a minute not fully realizing what was wrong. WELP.)
Today was the day when Mila was scheduled for her six-month well visit. I actually thought it was supposed to be yesterday, but Tuesday, December 2nd isn't the same as Monday, December 1st, even if you think it is. I almost rescheduled that well visit thanks to my inability to read a calendar, but there was this thing that kept happening all weekend. Mila wasn't quite right. She wasn't miserable, exactly, but she was a bit edgier. Like, if you made eye contact at the wrong moment, she might cuss at you. More than usual.
Also, there was ear tugging.
So it wasn't a total and complete surprise when I said "You should definitely check her right ear" and it was followed by "Welp! Ear infection!"
Letting a baby suffer with an ear infection over a holiday weekend wasn't my biggest WHOOPS, though.
My biggest WHOOPS involves my mouth and my brain and how they don't always check in with one another before words happen. My first WHOOPS involved the pediatrician asking about milestones and development and stuff.
You guys, not everybody will realize you're joking if you say that you push the baby over every time she looks like she's thinking about crawling.
I'm going to go out on a limb and guess there is an explanation for the pediatrician not catching the sarcasm, though. I only figured out the explanation because I put my foot in my mouth in another way.
As is usual during appointments like that one, the pediatrician asked about sleep (GLORIOUS SLEEP!). The thing about that is that Mila has sucked big hairy donkey balls with the sleep (GLORIOUS SLEEP!) thing since I went back to work. She doesn't want bottles, so she waits until I'm around to eat as much as possible. That means she eats at night and uses her ability to go hours without food during the day.
While I have certainly had days when I have been teetering on the edge of insanity because of sleep (GLORIOUS SLEEP!) deprivation, for the most part I'm very OH WELL about the whole thing. Alexis broke me in ways that no human should be broken, so getting up to feed a baby 2-3 times a night is no big deal. Mila wants to sleep (GLORIOUS SLEEP!) so I have no doubt that as she weens, she will return to sleeping at night. I can see the end with her. Therefore, go ahead and get up a bunch at night. It's cool. I can handle it.
I said as much to the pediatrician. She looked at me like I have seven heads, but that wasn't entirely unexpected. I'm sure she hears from desperate moms all day long. I just happen to be in a better place now because I know what truly bad feels like.
The pediatrician commented on my positive outlook, to which I replied, "It's dumb to stress about sleep when you can't control it."
I believe that, by the way. It's so much easier to survive when you relinquish the illusion of control.
Not everyone agrees, though.
Especially not a very sleep-deprived and desperate mother of 3 month-old twins.
So after I inadvertently told the pediatrician that she was nuts for getting worked up about getting enough sleep, I was pretty sure that her sarcasm detector was broken because she hasn't slept in three months.
I feel bad for her. Having a broken sarcasm detector has to be awful.
By the way, I'm not just an idiot because I made a pediatrician feel bad. I also can't remember my baby's date of birth. When picking up her prescription, I knew she was born in May, but then I couldn't finish the rest of it. I ran through the whole conversation a little like this:
"May 21st. Wait. No. The husband was born the 21st. It's the 23rd. Wait. No. That's me. She was definitely born on the 27th. Or Alexis was. WAIT! MILA WAS BORN ON MAY 29TH! Of this year. Which is ... ? Seriously, what year is it?"
So now a pediatrician and a pharmacist know I'm an idiot.
I can't wait until Mila figures it out.
