A few weeks ago, I went to pick up BE from school early because she was sick. As a security measure (I suppose), the school secretary asked for BE’s birth date. I feel terrible whenever I get asked this question because I still have to stop and think about it. I told her the correct month and day, but I accidentally gave her the year that BC was born – 2008. Of course, that would make BE three, and once I realized that, I quickly corrected myself. Of course, I still got a weird look from the secretary.
It reminded me of something that happened when we were still looking for a pediatrician. I called one of the offices on our list, and the person I spoke to started asking me questions about the kids. She asked me BE’s birth weight, and all I could say was, “I don’t know.” This seemed to really put her off. Needless to say, we didn’t choose this doctor.
In cases like these, I can’t help but wonder if the people I’m talking with think I’m a terrible mother. After all, these are things parents just know without having to think about it, right? I just have to remind myself that it doesn’t matter what others are thinking because they don’t know the whole story.