Yesterday, I left my 102-degree-fevered child to go out to dinner with Corinne and Sarah. When I got home, her fever had hit 103 and she had been crying for me for hours. I am a bad, bad mother, but dinner was fabulous. Don't you wish you were cool enough to hang out with us? (Which oh, you totally are, I just didn't have your number.)
Last night was long. Very long. Mia either could not or would not breathe through her nose, and the only way she would sleep was with her feet if my face. Which frankly, I was so wracked with mommy-guilt that I was happy to have some sort of punishment. She's better today, fever is down, she's acting great. But, she was acting great yesterday too, so I took her to the Hotty Pediatrician. He said what I expected, just a cold, no big deal.
At one point during our visit, Mia wanted glasses (the Hotty Pediatrician wears glasses, rawr) so I gave her my sunglasses. She gave them back and wanted me to put them on, so I did, and the Hotty Pediatrician said to her "oh, but I think they are much cuter on you." Burn. What does this mean? Doesn't he love me anymore? Wasn't he impressed that I'm fitting back into my non-fat jeans? I mean honestly, I brushed both my hair and my teeth before we went and had very little toddler snot on my shirt. I was looking just about as hott as I get these days.
I'm crushed. I would declare myself officially out of lust with the Meanie Pediatrician, except that dammit, he has a nice smile.
Although our waiter last night had a really nice ass. Maybe I'll trade, just until the Meanie Pediatrician comes to his senses.