I go to see my therapist every Wednesday.
My husband and I go to see our therapist every Thursday.
Between the therapists, the kids, the blog, the swim team, the furniture business, the e-course, the private swim lessons, the baseball games, the end-of-year parties, the concerts, the recitals, and all the other things going on right now,
sometimes I mess up.
So on Thursday, as I was driving to the appointment for the marriage therapist (MT), my phone rang.
I looked at it.
It was the MT.
Shit.
I must have fucked up again.
My heart started racing as it does when you realize you have fucked up.
Again.
I answered the phone.
“Susie. It’s MT.
Where are you?”
Fuck.
“I’m almost there. I’ll be there in 10 minutes. I didn’t realize I was late. I thought I was early, actually,” I said, not giving her an opportunity to get a word in.
“You’re not late,” she said.
“I messed up. I don’t know what I was thinking. Someone called in crisis, and I double booked your appointment. Then I realized that you were coming in, but that other person is here right now. I’m so sorry,” she told me.
YAY!
I hadn’t fucked up!
It was MT!
MT fucked up!
Now I don’ find pleasure in seeing other people mess up.
Well, people that I like, anyway.
But it did feel good to know that someone who supposedly has her act together does that same stuff that I do.
We all do.
So here’s to hoping you have a fuck-up-free day.
But just in case you don’t,
remember…
You’re not the only one.
It’s not just us frazzled moms.
Remember that the lady with the neat office, and the stain-free clothes, and the cute accessories, and not a kid in sight,
well…
that lady messes up too.
Number 1! Please keep me there!
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Courtney Conover says
I really enjoyed this post, Susie.
Yeah, the realization that you haven’t fucked up is as sweet as a glass of moscato.
Wait.
No. Sorry. Almost. Moscato is always sweeter. 😉