Me: “Be honest, I’m the funniest patient you have, right?”
Therapist: “I can’t answer that.”
Me: “Oh COME ON. Just admit it.”
Therapist: “Ok, ok. Fine.”
Me:
Therapist: “You’re not.”
Alright Well the Robots Have us Pegged
P.S. The end of my sentence WAS “anxiety.”
Where DO They Go?
Me: “I think I’ve been a pretty reasonable parent so far. I just really want to avoid being the parent who cares TOO much– who hovers and obsesses and worries about every little thing her child does. But I definitely catch myself acting that way sometimes, so I fear I’m totally becoming that parent.”
Therapist: “You said you have a nanny part-time. Do you find it hard to relinquish control when the nanny comes to take care of Nora?”
Me: “Oh my god, NO. I count the seconds til she gets there and it’s an immediate hand off, as if we’re in a baton relay.”
Therapist: “Ok. And are Nora and the nanny always in sight when you’re home?”
Me: “What? No! The nanny immediately takes her out of the apartment.”
Therapist: “And where do they go?”
Me: “I have no idea.”
Therapist (10 second silence): “Yeah I don’t think you’re that parent who cares too much.”
Me: 
Therapist: “You might want to ask the nanny where they go.”
Small
Kid: “How come you never wear your big diamond ring anymore?”
Me: “My engagement ring? I do. Just not all the time. I take it off when I go to the gym and sometimes forget to put it back on before I leave for the day.”
Kid: “Is your husband mad that you don’t wear it?”
Me: “No.”
Kid: “But now no one knows you have a husband! It’s like you’re not even married.”
Me: “Well, that’s not true. But regardless, I always wear my wedding band.”
Kid: “Huh?”
Me (point to wedding ring on left hand) “This. This is the ring my husband gave me at our wedding.”
Kid: “But that’s so small!!”
Me: “It’s not that sm—“
Kid: “No one will be able to see that it’s so small!”
Me: “Ok I mean I disagree but–”
Kid: “I CAN’T EVEN SEE IT AND I’M SITTING RIGHT HERE IT’S SO SMALL.”
That IS Fair
My therapist and I discuss the experience of depressive episodes now that I’m a mom.
Me: “I’ve only experienced one depressive episode since having Nora, and luckily it was brief, but I’d say it was still miserable, just with a different twist. Like I always feel an immense amount of guilt when I’m depressed, but this time the guilt was mom-focused. I wasn’t able to really engage with Nora in the same way, and that made me feel like a terrible mother.”
Therapist: “When you say you couldn’t engage, what do you mean?”
Me: “Well like for example, she was just starting to roll over for the first time, and I couldn’t really connect with the experience in the way I wanted to. Like she was doing it and I was there witnessing it, but I just wasn’t…interested.”
Therapist: “Well, to be fair– that’s not interesting.”
I’m Flattered
Thank you to all the strangers constantly stopping me in public to compliment Nora.
I agree that she is the world’s most handsome little boy.
Ebola Mom, Part 86
Glad We Cleared That Up
(Walking past a restaurant in our neighborhood)
Eric: “I took you on a date here.”
Me: “Yes. Our 3rd date. We ate a big plate of cheese.”
Eric: “Right.”
Me: “And we sat outside and some guy you kind of knew walked by and you actually stopped him to say hello and chat and I was like ‘Oh man, this guy is WAY too friendly for me, this will never work.'”
Eric (somewhat offended): “So you were going to rule me out because I was friendly?!”
Me: “No, I wasn’t going to rule you out! I thought you’d rule ME out– I thought, like, ‘Oh, this guy is way friendlier than I am. He’s going to think I’m a total bitch.'”
Eric: “Oh.”
(Silence)
Eric: “Yeah. I did.”
Waiting For Godot
Therapist: “So you haven’t really been blogging?”
Me: “No, not much since Nora was born.”
Therapist: “Well, it’s worth remembering that writing and blogging is your emotional and creative outlet. So that might explain why you’re feeling a bit stuck right now.”
Me: “Yeah. I know. I guess I’m just kind of waiting.”
Therapist: “Waiting for what?”
Me: “Like…waiting to feel like myself again. My normal self. Waiting to get my old groove back after having had a kid.”
Therapist: “I see….”
Me: 
(10 second silence)
Therapist: “That won’t happen until you die, you know.”
I ❤️ NY
I get into the elevator with Nora and a (presumably married) man and woman are there.
Woman: “Oh my goodness look at this baby! She is SO cute! How old is she?”
Me: “Aw thank you. 7 months.”
Woman: “Look at that face! Ugh this makes me wish I had had more babies.”
Man: “It’s never too late!”
Woman: “It literally is too late.”
Man: “No it’s not! Why do you say that?”
Woman: “Because I’m fucking 50 and going through menopause, Larry! Jesus Christ!”
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