Tell Me Lies, Tell Me Sweet Little Lies

Happy almost Mother’s Day!

On the way to work this morning, I was listening to the radio. In anticipation of Mother’s Day, one of those moronic wacky morning shows had listeners call in and share the biggest lie their mother ever told them.  Well that’s easy. When I was around 5,  my mother lied and told me that I chose my bedroom wallpaper. The ugly wallpaper with ugly pink, ugly green, ugly yellow and ugly white hexagons all over it. (Did I mention it was ugly?) For years she told me that horrible wallpaper was my first choice even though I distinctly remembered picking out white wallpaper with little pink flowers all over it.  Twenty years later, she finally admitted that I hadn’t picked the hideously ugly wallpaper. Liar, liar, pants on fire! 

I did not call the radio show to share my tale of deception because, let’s be honest, no one really cares about the story of a little girl and her wallpaper. No one except for my therapist. Wait, that’s not true. My therapist doesn’t care either.  But the radio show did make me wonder if one day my sons will be telling stories about the lies I told them.  (Yes, sometimes I lie to my kids. A shocking revelation, I know.)

Let’s see…  

Little Lie #1:

Me:  What would you like to do today? (Please don’t say go to the children’s museum. Please don’t say go to the children’s museum.)

Son: Let’s go to the children’s museum!

Me: The children’s museum? Oh, no! The children’s museum is closed today.

Son: Closed? Why?

Me:  It’s closed so they can clean it.

Son: Why don’t they just clean it at night?

Me:  They do, but, um, a bunch of kids made such a huge mess that they needed an entire day to clean up the messy museum. 

Son: Oh, OK.

Nah, my sons won’t be telling stories about this lie later in life. Too ordinary.

Clever Lie #2:

Son: Happy Mother’s Day!

Me: Thank you. You’re  going to be good today right?

Son: Yeah. Why?

Me: Didn’t you know? Mother’s Day is the one day a year that if kids are bad, mothers can return their children to the hospital.


Me: Yes, it’s true!

Son: I don’t want to go back to the hospital. I’ll be good!

Yes, my children are gullible. Definitely one of my better lies. 

Boldfaced Lie #3

Son:  Who discovered heaven?

Me:  Heaven?  Who discovered heaven? Well…uh…heaven…let’s see…um….PONCE DE LEON!  Ponce de Leon discovered heaven.

Son: Oh, OK.

Anyone know when kids learn about Ponce de Leon? Because it’s going to be pretty awkward if my 8-year-old declares that Ponce de Leon discovered heaven.
Oh yeah, this is the lie that my sons will be sharing with their friends. And their therapists.


Has Facebook Killed The High School Reunion?

I graduated high school in 1990. In November 2010, our class gathered for its 20 year reunion. (But because I suck at blogging, I didn’t blog about it until now.) When I first received the information about the 20 year reunion, I thought, 

Go to my high school reunion? No way! 
Not a chance! 
Only when hell freezes over!
Or when that Justin Bieber kid cuts his hair!

There was no way I could go to my 20 year high school reunion. I was still way too mad at my high school best friend Kelly for stealing my boyfriend Dylan when I spent that summer in Paris. Then I remembered that wasn’t me…that was Brenda Walsh from Beverly Hills 90210.  Huh. I guess I missed my 10 year high school reunion for nothing.

Since my slutty ex-best friend was a work of fiction, there was no reason not to go to my 20 year high school reunion. Right? Wrong. There was still another reason why I was hesitant to attend the reunion.


Who needs a high school reunion when we’ve got Facebook?  I used to spend countless sleepless nights wondering what my old high school classmates were up to. But Facebook solved that problem. Thanks to the miracle of Facebook, I have instant access to a classmate’s birthday, marital status, city, education history, occupation, kids, pets, height, weight, shoe size, bra size, favorite Starbucks coffee drink, high school locker combination, social security number…pretty much everything.  Plus, I can check out photos on Facebook to see who’s addicted to Botox and who really needs to put down the Ding Dongs.

Facebook has killed the high school reunion. Things you learn about classmates at reunions like who’s married, who’s divorced, who’s fat, who’s skinny, who’s bald, who likes to wear a pirate patch for fun, have already been revealed by Facebook. The element of surprise has been taken away. And that’s why I was reluctant to attend my reunion. I mean, since I already know everything about my classmates from their Facebook pages, why would I want to see them at a reunion? I imagined a conversation would go something like this:

Random classmate: Hi! How are you?
Me: Good. How are you?
Random classmate: Good. I saw on your Facebook page that you’re married, you have 2 boys, and you’re a doctor.
Me: Yes, that’s right. I saw on your Facebook page that you’re single, you’re a yoga instructor but your dream is to go back to school to study astronomy.
Random classmate: Yeah, I just love horoscopes!
(awkward silence)
Me: Alrighty then. See you in 10 years at the 30 year reunion.

Thus, I decided not to go to my 20 year high school reunion. Then some friends who were going were all like, You’re not going? Oh, you have to go. It wouldn’t be the same without you. You HAVE to go! I’m not easily swayed by peer pressure, so I still wasn’t going to go. But then I realized, hey, I’m married, I have 2 kids, I’m a doctor AND I weigh the same as I did when I graduated high school.  Why wouldn’t I go to my high school reunion and rub it in my classmates’ faces spend time with my former classmates?  

So I went to my 20 year high school reunion. And guess what? Facebook has not killed the high school reunion. Sure, Facebook has beat up the high school reunion a little bit, kicked it in the nuts a few times, but reports of the high school reunion’s death are greatly exaggerated.

Contrary to Mark Zuckerberg’s popular belief, not everyone is on Facebook.  I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. There were many classmates at the reunion who aren’t on Facebook. And there was a baby at the reunion and I’m pretty sure that baby isn’t on Facebook either. Yes, a baby. The baby belonged to an old high school friend of mine. This friend is not on Facebook so I was quite surprised to see her. And her BABY. Unfortunately we weren’t able to catch up since she had to leave. Because she had to get the BABY home. But that’s OK, because if we did have a conversation I’d be too distracted by Reese Witherspoon’s voice in my head saying, Look at you, you have a baby…in a bar.  

I guess the element of surprise is still alive and well at the high school reunion!

Another advantage high school reunions have over Facebook is alcohol. Reunion + open bar = drunk classmates. Talking to Drunky McDrunkerson at the reunion was highly amusing. You can’t get that drunken entertainment on Facebook. Sure, you can have a Facebook chat with a friend who’s sitting at home in front of their computer drunk without pants. But it’s not the same as chatting with a friend who’s drunk without pants in person. I’m kidding about the pantless part. Everyone at the reunion was wearing pants. Almost everyone. I’m pretty sure that baby wasn’t wearing any pants.

But the biggest surprise of the night was that people read my blog. Shocking, I know. Several people came up to me and said, “Oh, I heard you have a blog” or “I read your blog”.  People I hadn’t seen or talked to in 20 years were reading my blog. And they liked it!  

People actually read my blog.

Uh oh. People actually read my blog.

Since I don’t know who may be reading, it looks like I’m going to have to censor this post. No gossip about the reunion. No comments about which common high school reunion clichés came true. No comments about why my friend said that everything was finally right with the world.

So the high school reunion is not dead; Facebook has not killed it yet. Would I go to my 30 year high school reunion? That’s a good question. I’m sure sometime in the next 10 years, my high school will award me its Distinguished Alumni Award in recognition of my accomplishments such as this blog. And successfully removing a condom from a patient’s vagina.  So I’ll definitely have to go to my 30 year high school reunion to rub the award in my classmates’ faces. I mean, to spend another memorable evening with them.

Happy Holidays 2010

This is recycled from last year but, once again, it’s true

I’m just a Jew, a lonely Jew doctor on call on Christmas.

Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!


Handwriting Fail

My last post was about a stupid patient. This post is also about an idiot. But it’s not another patient. The idiot featured in this post is me.

Two days ago I was the poor son of a bitch the lucky parent who got to take J to a birthday party at Pump It Up. Oh yay, another Pump It Up party. Two hours of fun for the kids, a 120 minute headache for the adults. I grabbed J, the present and the invitation and headed to Pump It Up for the kabillionth time.

When we got to Pump It Up, there was a large group of kids and adults inside. A large group of unfamiliar kids and adults.  Who were these people? I didn’t see any of J’s friends or their parents.  I assumed our party was already in the play area, so I approached the front desk.

Pump It Up Employee: Are you here for [unknown kid]’s party?

Me: No, we’re here for [known kid]’s party.

Pump It Up Employee: There’s no party for that kid today. Do you have the invitation? Maybe her party is at the other Pump It Up.

Me: SHIT! If her party is at the other Pump It Up, I’m going to be SO PISSED! (I didn’t actually say this out loud, although it seemed pretty loud in my head.)

I pulled out the invitation. Was I at the wrong Pump It Up? Nope. The address on the invitation was exactly where I was standing. The invitation also said the party was November 21, 2010.

So where the hell was the birthday party?

The Pump It Up employee looked up J’s friend’s name on his handy dandy computer. Then he gave me the bad news. Her party was not November 21,2010.  It was November 24, 2010.

November 24?

Wednesday November 24?

Wednesday November 24, the day before Thanksgiving?

How could this be? Who has a party the day before Thanksgiving? Plus, the handwritten invitation said the date of the party was Nov. 21, 2010.  It didn’t say Sunday Nov. 21, 2010, but it did say Nov. 21.

Or did it?

I took another look at the invitation. Upon closer inspection, I realized what I thought was the 1 in 21 was really a very skinny, very messy 4 in 24.

The party was not November 21, it was November 24.

Me: Does this look like a 21 or a 24? It looks like a 21, right? I’m not an idiot…I’m just the innocent victim of sloppy handwriting, right?

Pump It Up employee: Yes, it looks like a 21.

The Pump It Up employee agreed with me – I wasn’t an idiot. But he was probably just humoring me so I would leave him the hell alone. 

OMG, I was an idiot! An idiot who showed up to a party on the wrong date. An idiot with a 4-year-old kid who thought he was going to play at Pump It Up today.  How was I going to explain this to him?  I could tell him, “Mommy made a mistake and thought the party was today because your friend’s mommy has shitty handwriting.”  Or I could have him join that unknown kid’s party already in progress. Honestly, who would notice an extra kid?

But we didn’t crash a stranger’s Pump It Up party, we went home. I still had the invitation, so I showed it to my husband. He said I was right…it looked like a 21 not a 24. And he wasn’t just humoring me so he could get in my pants.

Maybe I’m not an idiot after all.

Top Ten Things I Should Be Doing Right Now Instead Of Blogging

10. Painting the bathroom (The bathroom is a project I started years ago. Many years ago. Back when George Bush was president…the first George Bush. OK, that’s a lie. It was the second George Bush.)

9. Installing the light fixture in the guest bedroom (I’m sure guests think the single light bulb that’s hanging from the large hole in the ceiling right now is real attractive.)

8. Filling out our passport applications (And trying to find our birth certificates. Fun!)

7. Reading medical journals that I saved to read later (Oh look, here’s one from 2007!)

6.  Working on self-evaluation modules for my Internal Medicine board re-certification (Boring! Zzzzzz!)

5.  Laundry

4.  Eating Halloween candy Buying Halloween candy

3.  Buying new pants for my 8-year-old (He keeps growing…the nerve of that kid!)

2.  Some sort of physical activity that does NOT involve sitting on my ass in front of a computer

1.  Paying attention to my kids (Where are those kids anyway? Oh yeah, they’re both at school. Phew!)


This post was originally published on 09-09-09 as One Fish, Two Fish, Left Brain, Right Brain. I’ve decided to republish that post (with some minor editing) as a 10-10-10 post because (1) it’s 10-10-10 and (2) the content of that post still applies today. And if my blog still exists on 11-11-11 and 12-12-12, you can look forward to reading this post on those dates as well. 

Today is a special day. It’s not a birthday, anniversary or holiday…it’s October 10th. What’s so great about October 10, 2010? It’s great because October 10. 2010 is


There are two types of people in this world – those that look at 10-10-10 and think, That’s nice, it’s Sunday and those that look at 10-10-10 and think, Wow, that’s so cool!  This latter group was also enthusiastic about 03-03-09, 03-14-09, 12:34:56 pm on 07-08-09  and 07-11-09. Why? Well…

03-03-09 ==> 3×3=9 

03-14-09 ==> Pi day (Pi = 3.14)

12:34:56 pm on 07-08-09 ==> Do I really have to explain this one? (Psst…it’s numbers 1 thru 9)

07-11-09 => free slurpee day at 7-11

This group is also looking forward to 11-11-11 and 12-12-12. Guess which type of person I am? I’m a geek nerd number lovin’ fool.  Ever since I learned to count, I’ve liked numbers and math. In 2nd and 3rd grade I liked math so much that would I race through my math book and end up finishing it before the school year had ended.

Me: Yay, I finished the math book! 

Teacher: Oh crap! What am I supposed to do with this kid for the rest of the year?

Algebra, calculus and statistics, despised by many but not by me. I’m actually looking forward to helping my kids with this type of math homework. Who balances the checkbook in our house? Me. Who categorizes a street address like 1304 as “good” because it can be made into the mathematical equation 1+3+0=4? Me. Who can still ramble off phone numbers of childhood friends a la Rain Man? Me. When the accountant finishes our taxes each year, I’m the one to double-check them to make sure they’re correct. If wasn’t a doctor, I probably would have been a world famous blogger an accountant.

Yes, math and science were always among my favorite subjects. People who are good at math and science are typically considered left brained people. The left brain is the more analytical hemisphere so left brained people are logical and organized. The right brain is the more creative hemisphere so right brained people are imaginative and good at the arts. Although it seems like I fit the bill for a left brainer, once upon a time I was creative as well.  I was a writer, a creative thinker, traits that categorized me as a right brained person.  Both of my hemispheres were being utilized – I was a bilateral brainer, left brained and right brained.  But ultimately I chose to pursue medicine, a profession well suited for left brained people. From that point on, my left brain took center stage. Medical school killed my right brain and the creative me was a distant memory. Medicine, although not always black and white, is filled with logic and standard guidelines that are followed. Typically doctors aren’t very creative in their practice.

Me: Let’s see, you’re complaining of a sore throat, fever and swollen glands. Normally I would order a throat culture and start you on some antibiotics, but that’s so boring. Let’s be creative!  Your treatment for today is to quack like a duck, eat this green jello and then click your heels together 3 times and say “Abra-abra-cadabra. I’m gonna reach out and grab ya”. You should feel better in 3 to 5 days.

Patient: How is that going to work?

Me: Hell if I know! Consider it alternative medicine. Now get out of my office! I have to tweet about that ugly shirt you’re wearing.

Patient: You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!

Me: No worries. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer just as soon as he’s finished representing Dr. Conrad Murray, the doctor who killed allegedly killed Michael Jackson.

So you see, there’s not much room in medicine for creativity; being creative in medicine can get you sued. I spent over a decade as a predominantly left brained person, but about 2 years ago something happened in my brain. My right brain hadn’t died at all. It was just hibernating all those years. Suddenly my right hemisphere woke up, the neurons started firing again and my right brain went into overdrive trying to make up for all of those lost years. Logic was pushed aside as my creativity started flowing again.  In fact, the rebirth of my right brain is directly responsible for the creation of this blog (Good thing it did – if my left brain had started a blog, it wouldn’t be nearly as interesting and fun to read). 

It’s great to have my right brain back and I think it’s even better than before. I think my left brain may be slightly jealous of the attention my right brain has been getting and feels a little neglected. But I’m doing my best to achieve a good balance and use both hemispheres equally.  Seeing patients at work, makes my left brain happy, and creating Facebook statuses, Twitter updates and blog posts makes my right brain happy. For now my left brain and right brain are peacefully coexisting because in the battle between my left brain and right brain, there are no winners or losers, only headaches.

Start the countdown now….only 397 days until 11-11-11! (Thanks left brain!)

I’m A Hot Mom

I’m a hot mom.

Gosh Lori, that’s kind of conceited.

No, really it’s not. I don’t think I’m a hot mom…my 8-year-old son thinks I’m a hot mom.

Gosh Lori, that’s kind of creepy.

No, really it’s not.  It may sound creepy like a Greek tragedy. Or a 5 hour Lifetime movie. But trust me, it’s not. Read on….

R: You’re a hot mom!

Me: Thank y-….wait, what did you say?

R: You’re a hot mom.

Me: Hot mom? Where did you hear that? I know, you heard your father ask me when Hot Mom Day at the pool was, didn’t you?

R: No.

Me: Why would you say I’m a hot mom? What do you think “hot” means?

R: That’s the grown up way to say you’re pretty.

(OK, all together now: Awwwww! How sweeeet!)

R: You’re the hottest mom in the world!

(One more time: Awwwww! How sweeeet!)

Me: Really? I had no idea that I was the hottest mom in the whole world!

R (ponders his last statement): Welllll, maybe not the whole world. But definitely the hottest mom in Chicago!

So, there you have it.

I am the hottest mom in the whole world Chicago.

Who am I to argue with an 8-year-old?