So yesterday, to cleanse the cultural palate of the residue left over from "America's Next Top Model" (though I don't have any apologies for that), Joe and I went to watch a performance of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" at the Longacre Theater. Because we are so classy like that. The audience was, I think, extra pumped up last night, because the Arts and Leisure section of the Times had just that day featured a front page article about the three big name "divas" currently playing on Broadway (Jessica Lange, Natasha Richardson, and Kathleen Turner in "The Glass Menagerie," "A Streetcar Named Desire," and "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" respectively) and declared Turner the unequivocal winner of the smackdown. Everyone loves to watch a play pre-approved by the critics. Makes me feel like I'm getting my money's worth. And it was very good, though at times exhausting to watch. Also, Kathleen Turner has some crazy husky voice. Seriously, it's like she gargled with whiskey and cigarette butts and then sanded down her vocal cords with a couple of 2 x 4s. Jessica Rabbit gone horribly wrong.
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So Joe just found out that he has this national ophthalmology conference that he has to attend in the middle of August. The conference is a week long, and is taking place in Annapolis, Maryland. Let me say this again: Joe's going to be out of town for a week, leaving me at home alone with our three week old child. He said that if there are any complications with the delivery or anything, he won't go, but the unspoken part is that if everything is fine with he delivery, he almost certainly will go. Which, you know, OK, whatever, he's supposedly REQUIRED by his residency program to attend this conference. But still, being away for a whole week? When your baby is only three weeks old? How would he feel if I left him alone with the kid for a week that early on? More than a little panicky, I would think.
He figures I'll have Georgia (our nanny) around during the day to help out, and at least I won't be back at work yet so I can "get more rest during the day," whatever that means--but I don't think he quite understands how much work this is going to be, even with the perfect delivery room circumstances. And I am not thrilled about this. I mean, yes, I know and appreciate that we're very lucky to have a nanny and a family support system, and I can always--horror of horrors--ask people for help if I need to (when it comes to asking for help, I'm kind of like the stereotypical male driver who never wants to ask for directions). But I don't want him to go to Annapolis for a week and stay at a hotel and go to a bunch of lectures and meetings and actually get to sleep at night. I want him to suffer and be haggard with me.
Which is why I've been singing "Cats in the Cradle" in a pointed and meaningful way all afternoon.
Currently reading: The "ACLS Provider Manual" from the American Heart Association. I have to take my certification course post-call on Monday, because I never actually got certified in ACLS as a Peds resident. PALS and NALS, yes. ACLS, not so much.