When you wake up in the morning, you don't get dressed based on whether or not you're going to be in the ER hours later. (Or maybe you do. Do you? Can we be real life friends, we have so much in common already.)
You get dressed based on what's happening that day. Walking the dog? Tank top and Wal-Mart shorts. Meeting at your kid's school in the afternoon? Capri pants with that cute tangerine shirt that buttons up the front.
So on a regular Tuesday, I wake up and pull on my favorite sleeveless peasant dress. It's blue, kind of oddly tiered in segments like those dresses you find at candle shops. The ones that reek of frankincense and perhaps a skoshe of myrrh.
I have errands to run, dogs to walk, and dinner to make. One too many things in public to get away with neon shorts all day.
By 6pm, I am in the ER with Abby.
Abby who comes off the bus with hives. If you have children, you know this is not a rare or special thing. Kids come down with the craziest symptoms that have you googling with one hand and stirring taco meat with the other.
My parenting alarm doesn't sound until her upper lip swells up. She is suddenly and drastically a tiny Marge Simpson. Yes, it is adorable but logically speaking, I worry it will be her tongue to poof next. In my way of thinking, we have seconds to get her to a doctor before her airway is completely closed in. I ask Andy to drive Abby and me to the ER. Because, you know, I need my hands free to perform CPR or flail wildly at will. Either, or.
It's crucial to let you know I pull back my hair and mop it down reeeeallly well on my head when I'm nervous. So, by this hour, every oily molecule living near or on my hands is now ground deeply into my skull. I'm shiny from tip to (pony)tail. Now I am donning the kind of thing that is neither attractive or particularly successful. My bangs are dangling in my eyes like spider legs. Something on me smells like tacos.
We all make it to the door, register, and are seen within minutes. Nobody's freaking out. Abby's lip is stable albeit very Aflac like. Things are going so well, Andy and Grayson take off to make the rest of his baseball practice. That's when things happen. And man, it could've been great. If only I had showered.
Scene 1 - Nurse Enters Room
Nurse: I'm going to ask you to drink this, Honey. It will help with the itching and the swelling.
Me: Are we ok?
Nurse: The doctor will be in shortly. Yes, I think so.
Abby: Can we go now? We've been here FOREVER.
Me: Hang on, Baby. The doctor needs to look at you first.
Scene 2 - Doctor, Doctor
Doctor: Well, Hello. Abigail is it, or do you prefer to be called something else?
Inside my Head Me: Oh No. You're beautiful.
Abby: Abby. I like. To be called. Abby.
Inside My Head Me: Be nice to my future boyfriend, Honey. He's only trying to get to know you before we ride into the sunset on his yacht.
Doctor: Then I shall call you Abigail.
Abby: I LIKE TO BE CALLED ABBY!
Real Me, finally making eye contact: She really doesn't like the name Abigail. I can't help you there.
Doctor, taking a dramatic stage pause, looking directly at me: You're not from around here, are you?
Inside my Head Me: Holy crap. Is this happening?
Real Me: No, I'm not. How could you tell? My accent?
Abby: CAN WE GO NOW MOM?
Doctor: No, it's more like your lack of any accent from anywhere, it's fascinating. I've never heard anyone with a non-accent like yours.
Inside My Head Me: He just called me fascinating. - rifling through purse like a drug addict - Where are my cough drops? Dammit, Grayson ate my last piece of gum, didn't he? That little...
Doctor: Where are you from?
Inside My Head Me: I am from Roma, Italia. It is the city of love.
Real Me: Oh, me? I'm from the suburbs of DC.
Abby: Mom, seriously. I'm missing Teen Titans.
Real Me: I only let them watch an hour of TV per day, tops.
Inside My Head Me: I should've said we don't even HAVE a TV.
Doctor: Them? You have other children?
Inside My Head Me: Yes, but I can farm them out. Would you prefer we just start anew?
Doctor: Well, I think you're going to be ok, Abigail. I have an Abigail too and she's four. She doesn't like to be called Abigail either.
Inside My Head Me: Oh thank you Lord for letting him have children, too. Now I can keep mine.
Abby: Does she like Hello Kitty?
Doctor: Yes. Very much. Do you want a Hello Kitty band-aid? I'll see what I can do. I'll be right back with your discharge papers.
Me: Ok, I'll be waiting. Umm, WE'll be waiting. We'll be here. Ok.
Scene 3 - The Breakup
Doctor: So, I couldn't find Miss Abigail a Hello Kitty band-aid but my nurse will be in with a pink one, ok? You two take good care and come back if anything else comes up.
Inside My Head Me: I am feeling a little faint. See you in fifteen.
Abby: Ok, we can go now?
Doctor: Yes, you can go after the nurse gives you your prescriptions and your pink band-aid.
Abby: And a purple one?
Inside My Head Me: Oh my, I'm wearing flip-flops, this just keeps getting better.
Doctor: AND a purple one.
Inside My Head: I will always love you.
Real Me: Thanks, Doc, take care!
Married Me: HONEY, you should've SEEN this doctor. No joke, he was from freaking Grey's Anatomy. It was so annoying because I am just not in the mood for all of that tonight.
Andy: You're just saying that because you're mad at me for being late.
Me: Heh. No, I'm really not. Believe me, I wish none of this happened. Do I smell like tacos?