Emmi's "dental surgery" was today. I use the term "dental surgery" loosely. Really, she had four cavities filled, but required general anesthesia. A whole lot of hassle and stress for a whole lot of nothing. And another day spent in Texas Children's waiting room.
The night before I carefully ironed some stretch cotton pants for Emmi and a matching tank top. I found her cotton shrug and set it out to bring, as it always cold in the hospital. For myself I picked jeans, a flowing green tank top, a light summer sweater, and leather flip flops. As we entered the waiting room, I quickly discovered I was under dressed. Because everyone knows you should wear strappy high heels, a strapless tight black dress with no bra, and big dangly earrings to your kid's day surgery. I sat down next to the mom, who obviously got the what-to-wear-to-day-surgery look right, and felt ashamed of myself in my jeans.
Not only did she clearly have a better handle on the whole getting one's self dressed thing, but she clearly knew just what everyone in the waiting room wanted to hear her talk about. Loudly.
"And he was so excited to go get his baby mama. You should have seen how happy he was to finally get his baby mama that day. And he only had her for two hours ,and then he got arrested. He knew he had that warrant, but he had just got his baby mama. It just not fair."
Clearly, it wasn't fair. I mean, who gives a crap that he (whomever he was) had obviously committed a crime. HE HAD JUST GOT (from where I never did figure out...it really was rude of her to share such a good story and leave out such an important detail) HIS BABY MAMA. Leave a man alone with his baby mama for a minute. You can arrest him later, you know?
I was really sad when the nurse came to bring us back to Emmi. I was just building up the courage to ask Best Dressed Mama for her number. Obviously, I could use some pointers on my social skills, and I was sure she was just the person to help me.