Ok, here’s me pulling myself out of self-pity—a quote from Tina Fey’s Bossypants that I finished reading last night:
“One time my mom babysat a set of the Italian Rum Cake Kids while their parents went to a wedding reception. This was the first time this nice couple had gone out alone since their children were born. Their parents dropped them off after the ceremony. Little Christo and Maria were still all dressed up. Christo wore a tiny black suit and a white shirt. Maria wore a red velvet dress and cried in the playpen from the moment her parents left until the moment they returned. My mom tried everything to console her, food…the end.
“After a couple hours of this, seven-year-old Christo was beside himself. He had never been babysat before. How long was this f*ckery going to go on? His sister was hysterical. He paced around our living room, now in his shirtsleeves and black pants. Pulling his golden curls nervously, he looked like the night manager of a miniature diner who had just had a party of six dine and dash. He ranted to his baby sister in Greek,
“‘[something in Greek I can't figure out how to type].’
“This sent my mother running into the dining room laughing hysterically. I chased her. What? What did he say? Roughly translated it was,
“‘Oh! My Maria! What is to become of us?’
“His overdramatic ridiculousness tickled my mom in such a specific way that she was doubled over in the dining room, hoping the kids wouldn’t see that she was laughing so hard at them she peed a little. A phenomenon I now understand on all levels.
“They were going to be fine, but they couldn’t possibly believe it.
“That must have been what I looked like to my doctor friend. That must be what I look like to anyone with a real problem—active duty soldier, homeless person, Chilean miner, etc. A little tiny person with nothing to worry about running in circles, worried out of her mind.”
Message received. It’s time to breath.
