"Yes, but how ARE you?"

Baby Daddy wouldn't leave me alone today.

I hope you can understand how annoying this man can be. For a psychiatrist, a LOT gets by him that he should really notice. I mean, I'm a frickin' mess in general. I've been wondering when he'd pull me aside and ask me serious questions since the day they hired me.

Instead, he surfaces from his weird Monday ritual of teasing the baby with his presence behind a door that doesn't completely shut to ask me if I'm sleeping.

No. The answer is no.

He continues to siphon away my only break time, Pea's naptime, by asking about my sleeping issues and nighttime rituals and possible causes of sleeplessness. I answer politely, my responses short and guarded. I get the distinct feeling that he may not be listening because he cares, but because he has to prove to me that he is, in fact, a psychiatrist. Of course, this may be my defensive attitude kicking in, as I do, in fact, feel a bit attacked.

After a good thirty minutes wasted in this halting conversation, Baby Daddy appears to be done offering advice. He gets up, leaves the living room. I pick up my book (he'd interrupted the last chapter of my Agatha Christie), sigh a big sigh, and begin to read.

"Oh, and Johanna... I hope you don't have any anxiety about your future as pertains to us."

Huh? Can he see my heart racing?

"A lot of anxiety comes from future-planning, and Baby Mama and I both know that you're young, educated, intelligent... You won't be with us forever. So whatever anxiety you have, don't waste any on how we'll handle it if you have to move on to another job."

I plastered a teetering smile on my face, not sure what to say. Luckily, the man likes to talk.

"I mean, we feel honored, truly, to have you taking care of our daughter. You're amazing with her, and we feel so lucky to have found you, but we also know that there are other things out there for you."

"I do have a Master's to pay off."

Chuckles all around.

"So... yeah. Just don't let that worry you. If you have to go, we'll cope. We'd like to have you for ten more years or ten more weeks... whatever you can manage... but we'll figure it out no matter what you decide."

Hmm. Now I can't tell if Baby Daddy is incredibly shrewd, or a very good blunderer. Either way, I feel a bit exposed. (I can't wait to share this with my career counselor.)