Just Call Me Dr. Mama

When I picked the boy up from school this afternoon, I asked him what the very best thing was that had happened today.  He immediately shouted, “Oh, my gosh, Mom!  We worked on chemical equations in my advanced science class, and I LOVED IT!”

I’m going to call the hospital and tell them that they obviously mixed up MY child with some other lady’s baby in August of 2000.  I’ll tell them that in order to find the boy’s real mother, hospital detectives need only look for a woman who had a distinguished award in the advancement of chemical science, or who is, perhaps, related to Marie Curie, and who was pregnant and admitted for delivery the same week that I was.

I asked the boy, “And what about your English class?  Did you study how to use the semicolon appropriately today?”

The boy replied, “Mom, no one even cares about semicolons.  They’ll do nothing to further this world.”

I have no idea how I birthed this boy, people, but I intend to stand to my feet and clap like a happy lunatic when he accepts his Nobel Prize in Chemistry.

I’ll also probably use more cowbell, too.  I’ll beat the heck out of that thing in the audience, while I’m wearing my Lily Pulitzer dress.  Nothing says, I’M THE MOTHER OF THAT KID UP THERE WHO DISCOVERED THE CURE FOR CANCER better than a Lily Pulitzer.

And then I’ll pretend that I understand EVERY.  SINGLE.  WORD.  of his acceptance speech, while I whisper to Hubs, “What do those big science words mean that he’s using to explain things?”

No matter.

I’m happy to report that we all showered this morning and applied things like deodorant and mascara and jeans with real buttons and zippers, and then we made appearances in the real world.  Our days of sitting around our house, warming germs up under the electric blanket, while we look utterly homeless, are a thing of the past.  And it only took 45 minutes after his alarm went off for the boy to drag himself out of bed and complain that an 8:20 tardy bell is a perfectly UNHOLY time to get things started.

Anyway.

I know that this blog could have a subtitle of THIS IS THE WOMAN WHO HAS HER TODDLER STAND IN FRONT OF THE FIREPLACE ON A DANG-NEAR-EVERY-DAY-BASIS, SO SHE CAN TAKE HIS PICTURE.

It’s true.

But just LOOK at who is officially thirty-four months old today!

IMG_1364 IMG_1371 IMG_1368Yes, it’s true.  In exactly two months, our baby will be three years old.

I’m going to need a moment to come to grips with THAT reality.

He also has a double ear infection.  I told y’all that I suspected the ears and the infection last night, didn’t I?

I guess that proves that I should have been a doctor after all.

So maybe I am the boy’s REAL mother.

Happy Monday, everyone.

1 thought on “Just Call Me Dr. Mama

  1. I love semicolons and use them often. There, I said it. Just another thing that as a young person I never thought I would use it just to find out that it is quite handy. Besides, I feel smart when I use it and I’m confident that other people give me an extra tick of intelligence based on my semicolon use. 🙂

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