Oh, hey Andy – thanks for your call. I understand by your multiple voice mails that ensuring we schedule that last available appointment to meet with your shoe-bronzing representative next week is of utmost importance…
It’s just that I’m a little busy right now…
You see, Andy, while you might think that “preserving those precious memories of my child’s first steps” is an issue of national security. I beg to differ. I’m more concerned with preserving my sanity, my carpet, and my security deposit.
You know, it’s those first steps that got us in this predicament to begin with.
Andy, it’s not your fault. I know the memory preservation business is hurting what with the economy and digital cameras and all. You aren’t the only offender. To be fair, Rachel from Wachovia is so concerned about my accidental and untimely (what does she know?) death she calls every night at bathtime. And I answer every single time, thinking “oh snap, it’s the bank, maybe they want to refund me those overdrafts from last week. Maybe they are calling to tell me that I won the contest for smallest check-card purchase (a single copy at Staples) and we’re being flown on an all expenses paid trip to anywhere else.” Nope, just Rachel, calling to remind me that life is precious and short – though not too precious or short to discuss the preciousness and shortness of it every-single-night with a total stranger.
Don’t get me started on the automated messages that we get 6 times a day for some guy named Brian. For the love of all things ethereal. Just pay your shit, Brian. Seriously, cause they don’t believe me when I say that I don’t know you and I don’t like people thinking I’m a liar!
I don’t know why I even have a home phone line anyway. I wouldn’t dare get rid of it though, in case the CAP waiver ever comes through and they don’t know how to get in touch with me and pass us up.
I digress. Right, so I’m posting because it has come to my attention that I don’t really have any the best skills for managing “behavioral” things. So we’re (ahem, I’m) getting help. Miss Jennifer is going to come every week and give us (ahem, me) some tips on setting boundaries and whatever else good parents do.
Apparently, not only is being a defeated pushover not fun for me, it’s also possible that I could mess my kid up royally too.
I know – talk about responsibility! This is the crazy stuff no one ever tells you when you go off the pill.
Andy, you should’ve clued me in. I mean, after all we’ve been through together – I expected more.