January 30, 2012

Dear Babies,

Go to the doctor, everyone keeps telling me, but why do that when I can just look up my symptoms online and misdiagnose myself with a terminal illness instead?

I had another bad migraine this weekend. (Bad, as opposed to a good one? Choose your words.) This is strange for me but really, I’d go to a doctor and tell her what, that I have one-year-old twins? That I’m trying to do this small thing of launch a career and publish a book. That I never sleep, drink ten cups of coffee a day, am a woman in my thirties who grinds her teeth down to a pulp every night and over thinks throwing out a cereal box (it should be recyclable, but it’s not, it’s waxed cardboard!), wouldn’t she be like, so?? Wouldn’t she be like, it’s your life? It’s your stress. It’s your age. Why am I suddenly getting migraines, Doctor? Really?? Ya think so?

Knowing me, I’d make a joke of the matter in her office. Try to bond when she takes out a pamphlet on the importance of stress management like, oh, I know. Me and WebMD, har, har, har, I know! I’d quote one of my favorite lines from “Boogie Nights” that you probably hear me say whenever someone states the obvious–“Oh, you think so, Doctor?”–which would be awkward said to an actual doctor, like buying a hotdog from a man named Frank.

So, I’ll put it off. I’ll go for a check-up in like, March, when “The Bachelor” is over, when there’s nothing to do, when the government actually puts a day on the calendar for you go to out and black-out on green beer. Till then I’ll take some over-the-counter medicine. I’ll cool it with the coffee (oooh, but it’s so hard!!!). I’ll sleep. (?!). I’ll ease up on the self-imposed stress…

Just this morning I set this goal for the day: (Are you ready?) Get us out the door, and go to Whole Foods. That’s it. I’m looking at it like anything else I accomplish in the day is gravy.

Having done that, being home now and having you guys napping and with the house so eerily quiet, I’m sitting down to do some work and I’m thinking, whatever I accomplish, no pressure...

I can set one attainable goal for myself, I continue staring at the window (is that a cat?), conscientiously unclenching my jaw…

Maybe this is all some people are supposed to do and when they don’t, they go haywire. They get headaches.

Maybe one day you’ll thank me for this advice. Say thank you, Doctor, thank you, Master of Zen.



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