My husband, Stephen, is a primary care physician. He has a tshirt that says, “Trust me, I’m a doctor!” I love when he wears it because most people probably think it’s just a silly shirt. But if I wore a shirt that said, “Trust me, I’m married to a doctor”, I would seem like an arrogant jerk; like I’m bragging that I snagged myself a money maker. (Disclaimer: I hit the jack pot ladies and gentlemen. And I’m not talking about cash. I wouldn’t trade him in for anything, not even a private yoga session with Adam Levine… sorry, I get sidetracked easily.) I would like to wear something like the above shirt because people assume that I have a clue about medicine and I DO NOT. I know when my kids are sick and that’s about the extent of things. You see, Stephen was a science man in college (where we met) and I was the girl who only entered the science building to complete Biology 100 and Geology, also known as “rocks for jocks.” I was a communications and spanish major. When my husband is on the phone for work I think HE is speaking a foreign language.
Having said all of this, I feel extremely lucky. When one of our kids wakes up sick in the middle of the night, I don’t have to dial up the on call physician. I just turn over in bed and say, “Hey, we have a puke situation. I need you to wake up REALLY fast.” Stephen works extremely hard for our family and I am able to continue my reign as CEO of our house without taking a job outside the home. My decision to stay home means we aren’t rolling in the cash but that’s okay. We are rolling in love, laughter, and tons of laundry.