Spots

I've been thinking a lot about being away from family lately. This often happens at this time of year because I don't have the luxury of Christmas shopping without the kids. So it usually turns into, "Hey, girls, don't look for a minute," and I frantically shove something into a cart (or worse, my purse) without them looking. Yes, I am a security nightmare.

A few weeks ago, I had an appointment at the dermatologist for one of those body scans to make sure I don't have any weird spots. All my usual "can-you-watch-my-girls?" friends had sick babies, so I decided to just take them. I learned a valuable lesson that day: kids don't respect you when you're not wearing any clothes. "Don't touch the doctor's computer" was met with giggles of, "Mommy, you're all nakey." And the baby just stared. That was the worst part. Thankfully, the doctor proceeded as if this was very normal; I'm sure she was a mother, too.

My friend Marci had to take her three year-old to her OB visit. She said he was totally speechless and will probably need some therapy when he's older. My kids have seen my blood drawn (another time when they pretty much ran amok), have taught piano lessons with me, and have been in Victoria's Secret multiple times, which makes the other patrons nervous (hee hee). Things which would have seemed unthinkable a few years ago are just what we do now.

The good news is that the spot they removed from my arm was just that: a spot. A spot which is now a cool scar/crater. And a reminder that when my kids need to be reprimanded, even my "Why Do I Burp?" t-shirt is better than nothing.