Let’s just hope she’s not planning on a career as an identity thief

I got a very strange phone call from my mother on Saturday morning. She got me when I was just awake and I’m not very intelligible for a good half an hour after I wake up. I’m surly for at least an hour, but that’s a different blog.

Anyway, when I answered the phone she asked with a great amount of feeling, “How are you this morning?”

“Fine,” I told her.

“I was just really worried about you last night?”

I rubbed my eyes. “Ummmm, OK.” This was a confusing conversation.

“You just weren’t making any sense. I was very concerned.”

Not about not making any sense. I didn’t even remember talking to her the previous evening. “Well, I’m OK.”

“You said you had a headache, so…”

This clarified her concern. Sometimes when I have a really hellacious migraine I am very confused and confusing. I also forget things that happen so now I was wondering if I’d had a serious migraine episode and wasn’t remembering it. Except usually after one of THOSE headaches I wake up with hangover like symptoms, and I really felt fine.

The thing was, I was exhausted the night before. All my late hours had caught up to me with a vengeance. A person can only exist on five hours of sleep for so long until a collapse is imminent. My Honey had band practice so he was gone for the evening. I hadn’t been able to stay awake after I made the kids waffles for dinner. (That’s what I made them to eat. Seriously. Clearly, I’m not to be trusted. I barely function as an adult.) They’d been watching movies, and I’d slept on the couch until he came home and sent me to bed.

“When did we talk?” I asked my mom.

“We didn’t. We were texting.”

This was too much for my first conversation of the day. “Well, I’m fine now,” I assured her.

I meant to look at our supposed text conversation but I forgot about it until later in the day. Once I did, I completely understood Mom’s concern. The conversation could only be called that by the barest definition. I also knew exactly what had happened because it had happened before.

There had been an imposter. An impersonator. An identity thief.

Apparently my 10-year old daughter sounds exactly like me in the throes of an epic migraine episode. I couldn’t be prouder.