I keep telling Andy I have a baby guessing gift –you know, when they’re in utero and all. It’s true. I swear. Well, ok it’s probably not, but I like to think I have a special intuition that does not apply to my own children. You want to know my other gift, worrying. I am a stellar worrier. I can worry about money or my mcat essay or my mcat application or how I missed work yesterday for no pay because my kids are sick and my daughter’s in preschool and I just got a new job in a hospital that won’t give me benefits for two months so I can’t even go to the doctor and my sick time can’t be used for six goddamn months and I went to work today and still felt like crap and Andy works with high school kids so the bugs are literally ASSAULTING me from all sides of all angles of life. Yep. I can worry alright. I can write run on sentences as well, but not on my mcat essay. Definitely not. Because I must write a fantastically, interesting, stunning essay that will blow the socks of millions of doctors around the world. Consider it done. For now, I will have a beer, eat some dinner and relax. For I must awake early again to do it all over.
a blog about life, family and kicking ass.
{ 2 comments }
I worry about screwing my kids up because I did too much of something or not enough of another. And then I make Stella go to her room when she won’t take a nap and she shits in her pants like a giant, “Fuck you!” and I want to rub her face in it. That’s my gift.
KitKat: don’t worry. You wrote a good essay. You have a great (looking) family and a great GPA. You can’t really do much more for your potential admission. XOXO.
Comments on this entry are closed.