Does the fact that I was breathing heavily from running five blocks from my son's bus stop back home to get his school shirt when I realized it was a field trip day and running back five blocks after having my just-showered husband throw the shirt down our hall while a neighbor held the elevator (which had stopped four agonizing times on the way up), only to have my son ask why it took me so long when I got back moments before the bus came mean that I am out of shape?
Does the fact that I do not have indigestion after pulling together assorted leftovers from every corner of the fridge, not to mention making supplementary salad and rice because despite the number of containers, the leftovers were not enough, and feeding everyone, including myself, before the piano teacher arrived mean that I am an excellent short order cook-slash-waitress or that I just have an iron stomach?
Does the fact that I accomplished getting children to three different schools in three different neighborhoods (including one in another borough) and getting them home safely after all their various activities mean that I am a truly dedicated parent or that I was just lucky today or that I am actually crazy for sending them to three different--and spread apart--schools in the first place?
Does the fact that I type my blog on my iPhone because I can therefore do it anywhere and without competing with anyone for a computer, since my iPhone is one of the few things that is truly my own, password-protected, and not to be touched without permission, mean that I am a committed writer or just a 2013 person with a phone attached to my hand?
Sometimes things are not quite what they seem, and sometimes, what they seem to be, and what they are, changes from day to day. And what it all means--well, that's up for grabs.
Which keeps things interesting, don't you think?
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