I wanna hold your haaaaaand, I wanna hold your hand

I was on call a few weekends ago. Digression: I am now on call only 1 of every 8 weekends or so. It's so amazing to have almost every single weekend off. Like life-changing awesome. Back on track: The fellow texted me about this incredible consult. I was so flattered that they would turn to me for help. (Since I know tone doesn't translate via the written word, I'll just go ahead and tell you... that last part should be read dripping with sarcasm.)

Fellow: So the ____ team called a consult. This lady came in with blah blah symptoms. Diagnosis 1 and diagnosis 2 were on the initial differential.
Me: OK, sounds reasonable.
Fellow: Then imaging suggested diagnosis 1 but not diagnosis 2.
Me: Ooookay.
Fellow: Then a biopsy confirmed diagnosis 1 with no findings of diagnosis 2.
Me: Um, ok.
Fellow: So they just want us to come and comment on whether we think it might be diagnosis 1 or diagnosis 2. Because they just want to be sure.
Me: I haven't even read the chart, and I'm already sure.
Fellow: I know.

Yes, for real. I had to get out of my pj's and drive up to the med center for that business. As we say in the consultant world... Thank you for this interesting consult. Rheumatology will sign off. Please call us back with any questions.

All the single ladies

Apologies to the friends who heard this one in person a few days ago. 

Through various circumstances, I went to my department's holiday dinner party alone this year. So I got gussied up with my hair curled, in my LBD with my blingy earrings and AWESOME fully-sequined, orchid, super tall Cole Haan pumps. Ellison and Nick approved, and off I went. 

I walked into the party room, and no joke, one of the waiters nearly tripped trying to get to me to offer me a drink. What follows is my stream of consciousness response.

Ha! I still got it. Guess I'm not as old and fat as I thought. 

Hmm, wait a minute. Isn't wondering and worrying about whether I still "got it" a sign of actually being old? When I was 21, my response would have been how that guy can go drool elsewhere. Now it occurs to me to be flattered. Yes, I think that is definitely the response of an old lady. A response at which I previously scoffed.

When did I get so old?!

At least I can still wear the heels without my bunions hindering me. 

Just another Monday

So my momma gave me a pink personalized pen for med school graduation. I have used it every day since then. It's been through a lot, including the washer and dryer. I lost it a few times, too. 

Me: Has anyone seen my pink Beth Scholz pen?

Other residents: Um, what does it look like?

Me: Well, it's pink. And it has my name on it.

Nobody ever tried stealing it. Would have been kinda obvious, I guess.

I couldn't think of a more faithful friend to get me through yet another Monday. Cheers.

Law and order

I flew with E & A by myself this last weekend. We went to Tucson to see Laurie (and my mom, who came in for the weekend, too) and then all road-tripped to Vegas to see my aunt and uncle at their new condo there (talk about an upgrade from Wichita - Kansas, not Texas). Can I just tell you, that whole idea was craaaaazy, but flying with 2 kids was actually not all that bad thanks to my crazy obsessive-compulsive hyper-organized type A personality. The diaper bag and toy bag were each strategically packed so I could reach in and know exactly what my hand would find in any given nook or cranny. And there were lots of rules. So many rules. Poor E. But it worked. And people took notice. Segue to this conversation at the end of my outbound flight.

Woman: [leaning across the aisle] Your baby is just darling. I've been sitting here wishing I could hold him. And they are both so well-behaved. And you're so good with them. I hope you plan to have lots more because you handle them really well.
Me: [guffawing and blushing]
Man*: Yeah, you really do.
Me: Thank you so much. And I might be crazy, but do you work at Vanderbilt medical center?
Man: Yes, I'm one of the {surgical subspecialty} faculty. Why?
Me: Well, not all that long ago, I was an internal medicine resident there.
Man: Oh, wow. I'm Dr. A. Sorry I didn't recognize you.
Me: I know, and it's ok. There are dozens of us every year but only a few of you.
Man: That's funny. Watching you with the kids, I told my wife you were probably either a surgeon [I like to think he really just means "doctor" in general but forgets there are doctors besides surgeons] or married to a military man.
Woman: Well, I wish we'd figured out that you knew each other two hours ago. I could have been holding that baby!

True story. The end.

*I've been staring at him out of the corner of my eye the entire flight because I really, really think I know him from somewhere. At this point in the conversation (upon hearing him speak), I'm certain I do.

Battle of the sexes: Subject to interpretation

Yesterday was kinda a rough day at the office. No one thing in particular was terrible, but there were lots of little things. And it was a long, long day. But then I came home, and Ellison ran up to me with a leg bear hug. And Archer went crazy in his littler exersaucer thingie, bouncing like a madman and baby-squealing at the top of his lungs. And I picked him up, and with a full-face baby grin, he started nuzzling into my neck like he was digging for gold. And my bad day wasn't quite so bad.

Me: I kinda wish that every once in a while you would get as excited about me coming home as Archer does.
N: You don't mean that.
Me: Oh yes, I surely do.

After all the kiddos were (finally) tucked in their beds, I stood in the kitchen prepping the next day's breakfast and lunch and on and on, oh my. And Nick walked up and stood creepily close on my right side.

And he started bouncing and full-face Joker smiling and making squealing noises that sounded how I imagine a dying hyena might sound. And then he started rubbing his face in my neck and pawing my shoulder and hair.

N: See, you don't want me to get excited like Archer.
Me: [no words. no breathing. just quiet, sustained, oxygen-depriving laughter]
N: See? I told you.
Me: Nooo! [more laughter, less breathing] I meant an adult version of what Archer does! Goober!
N: Nope, that is what you get.

At least it's cute when Archer does it.

Another one where my kid says something funny

Having been a single mom this weekend while Nick was away, nothing happened except keeping my kids alive. Therefore, all my funny (or not funny) stories relate to them.

1) My doubting Thomas
I accidentally washed a scrub top with a Hershey's miniature in the pocket. Oops. I then dried it. Double oops. I opened the drier this morning to find brown streaks and spots all over the clothes and the drier.

Me: Oh, no. Are you kidding me?!
E: Oh, someone poopee in dare?
Me: No, kid. It's chocolate. I put a piece of chocolate in the drier, and it got everywhere!
E: [looking skeptical] Dat poopee.

2) My little mommy
Ellison and I played with her toy picnic set this evening.

Me: Oh, Elle. That sure is a yummy pancake and cheese sandwich you made.
E: You want some, Mommy?
Me: Oh, yes.
E: [holds it up to my mouth] We no eat it, Mommy. Jus' petend.
Me: Oh, ok. Just pretend.
E: [jerks the plastic sandwich away from my mouth] Say peez [please], Mommy.
Me: Oh, right. Please.
E: OK, hee you go.

Board book Bible stories

I was reading to E last night from her little kiddie Bible. It's rather abridged; the New Testament includes Jesus' birth, healing the woman who touched his cape (no mention of bleeding of course), healing the blind guy with mud, and him taching the little children.

E: Jesus love you, Mommy. In your heart. [lifts her shirt to indicate her anatomical heart]
Me: So when we say that it just means He loves you deep inside. He isn't actually in there.
E: Yeah. And I talk to Jesus!
Me: Yes. You can talk to him whenever you want.
E: But I no want mud in my eyes.

True that, kid. Me neither.