Study Hard, Party Not-As-Harder

I'm not known to be a frequent participant in the "party scene". That should be obvious since I'm calling it the "party scene" and I don't even know what the kids are calling it these days. I really dislike going out to bars and visiting with drunk people. I also stopped drinking so it's even more weird to be the sober person who's trying to hold a conversation with all the non-sobers.

Studying for our medical school tests is quite difficult and rigorous. We don't leave our apartments/study rooms for days at a time, we can't hold normal conversations with people because our brains are like jello that you forget to put back in the fridge. I, personally, like to celebrate completing a test by going home and cleaning my apartment. My apartment becomes a bit of a wreck during intensive study weekends. I study, eat, sleep, cry on my couch so it and the 1 meter immediately surrounding it becomes kind of ick. I also always have dishes to do because it's probably not socially acceptable to eat beans right out of the pot with my hands since I've run out of clean dishes and utensils. Ever drank right out of the faucet? It's highly underrated, especially when you don't have any clean cups.

After I clean my apartment and it's back to acceptable health standards, I enjoy watching a movie on netflix or watching some brainless TV. I crack open a vintage soda and go to bed at 8. And it's wonderful!!

My friends, however, decided that my post-test plans were NOT acceptable since apparently the thing to do after you breakup with your long-term boyfriend and take a really hard test is to go out. I told my friends that I'd do SOMETHING with them, but going "out" was totally out of the question. I'd rather stick a toothpick in my eye in order to have a reason to leave the bar. There was talk of everyone going to someone's house for a get-together but that fell through, so Z and his wonderful wife E stepped up and said, "Cupcakes, come have dinner with us and our circus of children" (their words, not mine).

Let me backtrack for a second to mention that I had offered Z my babysitting services for his kids earlier that day because I know that when you're a med student with 3 kids under the age of 4, you probably don't get a lot of quality spouse time. I love babysitting Z and E's kids. I LOVE IT. I practically had to BEG Z to let me do it (since he was being nice and wanted me to go out and have fun instead of babysitting his kids). I continuously reminded the man that even if I wasn't babysitting the kids, there's no way in hell I'd go out and have fun because going out does not, as a rule, equal fun for this person. At least if I was babysitting his kids then I'd have something entertaining to do.

Okay, so back to my story. I went to get tex-mex with Z and E and the kids. We had fun visiting and then we went back to their house where we got the kiddos ready for bed. Z and E snuck out of the house once the kids were down for the night and I sat on the couch with their thick-boned yellow lab, Jake, on my lap and read a book (for fun!!). After about an hour and a half I hear their oldest son calling for his mom. I could tell he wasn't hurt or in danger so I waited and he eventually stopped. I thought: good, he fell asleep. Then he starts calling for her again. I knew they didn't exactly tell him they were leaving because they didn't want him to get upset. And they did tell him I'd be here that night. But I knew that if I went to check on him, there'd be no avoiding him figuring out that his mom and dad weren't there. Then it got to the point that it just felt like I needed to go check on him and just prepare myself of the ensuing battle with a 3 year old.

When I walked into his room he says to me: I wasn't calling YOU!
Me: I know, but your mom's busy right now so I came to see what you needed.
Him: I wasn't CALLING YOU! You're not my MOMMA! Where's my MOMMA?
Me: She, uh... had to go... run some errands... She's coming back soon. I'm here with you!
Him: (getting out of his bed and running into the kitchen and slamming the kitchen door shut) I DON'T WANT YOU! I WANT YOU TO LEAVE!
By this time he's crying and I'm standing outside the kitchen door, talking to him through the door.
Me: (using my med-school learned/college RA reasoning techniques) I can see you're upset. I understand that you weren't calling me and that you wanted your Mom. But she had to go run some errands and I'm here with you. I want to play with you!
Him: (sob/screaming) I WANT YOU TO GO AWAY! I DON'T WANT YOU HERE! I WANT YOU TO GO AWAY!
Me: Okay, well... uh.. I understand that you want me to leave, but I can't leave you here by yourself. So... I'm going to sit in the living room, okay?
Him: I WANT YOU TO GO AWAY!

So I sat in the living room and listened while he cried in the kitchen. Eventually he calmed down and was talking to himself and I listened for a long time to make sure he wasn't escaping the house or setting it on fire. Once he was more calmed down I took Jake to the kitchen door and Jake slid his way into the kitchen.
I said: Jake wants to play with you!!
Him: I want you to go away...

Eventually he and Jake came out of the kitchen and he was ready to be my friend again. We sat on his bed and read some books.
Me: Aren't you tired?
Him: I AM tired, but I want to wait for my parents to come back.

Well, I know better than to try to change a 3 year old's mind so I suggested we watch a movie in the living room where he could recline on the couch and maybe fall asleep during the movie. After 10 minutes of trying to figure out how to work their DVD player, we started watching Cinderella. Jake eventually climbed onto my lab (all 80 pounds of him) and the little boy snuggled up next to me. Eventually the little boy was sooo heart-meltingly sweet and giving me kisses and hugs that I understood (only for one second) why people reproduce. And then he climbed on top of Jake (who was still on my lap) and I just hoped that I wouldn't pass out from not being able to take a full breath with all that weight on my torso.

Z and E soon came home and I told them a little about what happened so they could understand why their son was still awake at 11:30 PM. They got him to sleep and I was ready to go home and sleep, too, but somehow we stayed up talking until about 1 AM. I don't even remember what we talked about but it was fun.

I woke up the next morning at 8 AM (which is late for me) and got dressed up because I needed to see a patient that day. I met up with Z who also needed to see a patient that day and we yawned our sleepy way into the hospital wards to get our work done.

I finally left the campus around 5:30 PM and got home. I meant to do my patient write-up at that point but somehow fell asleep in my dress-clothes on the couch and woke up around 10:30 PM. I dragged my ass to bed and slept until 6 AM. I'm still SO tired. That's the last time I get crazy after a test.