Recently, someone told me that she was glad that women have to wear bras.

When I questioned her logic, and sanity, she explained that she is so happy about wearing a bra because the best feeling in the world is taking it off every night.

That friend of mine?  She’s one smart cookie.

Because my son has sensory issues and because he likes to snuggle and rub my flabby arms, even if I’m in my pajamas, I wait to take off my bra until he has gone to bed.  The last thing I need is for him to accidentally run his hand a little too far up my sleeve.  Then we’d need a whole new kind of therapist.  Just sayin’.

The other night, as he was preparing to go to bed, I snuck into my bedroom and removed my bra.  As luck would have it…wait…as my luck would have it, when I came in and sat down on the stool in his tiny bathroom, the back of his hand brushed against my B-O-O-B.

He looked up at me and asked, “What’s that?”

I honestly replied, “Well, that’s one of my private parts.  That’s my boob.”

Then he reached his hand up and touched my chest and said, “Oh!  I thought boobs were supposed to be up here.”

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A funny thing happens when, in a seven-day period, you have three doctor’s appointments, your car gets broken into, you take your kids trick-or-treating, have friends over for dinner, then your other friends open an art gallery, you attend a Cub Scout outing and fill thirty-six bags full of leaves.  Thirty.  Six.

All of that?  Means you don’t have time for a blog post.

So, in light of the events of the last week, and in lieu of an actual post, here is a continuation of my Life List. 

11.  Visit the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.  Probably not the safest place to travel, but I’m willing to risk it.

12.  Get a tattoo.  This will be over my husband’s dead body.

13.  Taste each chocolate in the Intense collection from Richart Chocolates.  The categories are Balsamic, Roasted, Fruity, Citrus, Herbal, Floral and Spiced.  Need I say more?

14.  Go skinny dipping.  This won’t be pretty, so I’ll likely go it alone.

15.  Grow my own tomatoes.  Because my in-laws are probably tired of giving us all of theirs.

16.  Take a dance class.  I’d like it to be an old-school, hip-hop class, but I’m close to 40 and I think it might be illegal to shake my groove thing like that in public.  Polka, anyone?

17.  Learn how to properly skip a stone.  Though, not at the same time as #14.

18.  Sample 100 types of beer.  Natural Light Ice, I am not talking to you.

19.  Renew my wedding vows with my kids present.  That sound you just heard?  That was my husband screaming.

20.  Breed a dog and keep one of the puppies.  Yep, that’s still my husband.

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Later today, I will be having some minor, outpatient surgery on my girly parts. Just because it’s minor, doesn’t mean I’m not nervous.

I have only had surgery three times in my life. Two of the three were c-sections, for which I stayed awake and the third was for my wisdom teeth. That is the only time I have ever been put under sedation. I’m not going to lie. I liked it.

But, I was only 19 years old then and delving into blackness was kind of cool. Now, I’m more than twice that age…and I can tell you for certain that today’s surgery won’t hurt nearly as much as typing that did.

Given that my eight year old son has had a lot more experience on the operating table, I asked him for some advice. We were counting his I.V. scars last night when I said, “I’ll be getting an I.V. tomorrow and I’m not sure, but I might have to use a mask to go to sleep too.”

At this point, I thought he might tell me what to expect. At the very least, I imagined he would tell me not to worry.

Instead he said, “I sure hope the hospital has big masks, because you have a big head.”

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My daughter starts middle school today, which makes perfect sense because about eight seconds ago she was a 2 lb. 9 oz. preemie who fit in the palm of her father’s hand.

Two seconds after that she was wearing pigtails and skipping and making me recite “The Three Little Pigs” over and over. Then she started reciting “The Three Little Pigs” and, somehow, even though it was only about five seconds ago, I have a 30 minute long video of her telling that story.

Oh my goodness, did that girl like to talk! One day, my left ear fell onto the floor and she just kept going…like she was waiting for the right one to do the same thing. Okay, I’m exaggerating. Slightly.

She was so smart. She still is. But, smart when you’re a toddler is different than smart when you’re eleven. She sang God Bless America in front of huge groups…hundreds of people…when she had just turned three. So, yeah, that kind of smart. Now, she knows geometry, which makes her smarter than I have ever been.

She has always had a big heart and a sensitive soul, but about one second ago she got kind of hormonal. That means that she’s SUPER sensitive, but doesn’t always show a sensitive side. So, she has no problem being mean to her brother and making him cry, but when I tell her to stop it? Her tears could fill a bucket.

I used to think we were so much alike, and we are in a lot of ways, but more and more I see her becoming her own person. Which scares me a lot. I knew what to expect when she acted like me. I even knew what to expect when she acted like her father. *cough* button-pusher *cough*

These days, she does her own thing a lot. It’s her music, her posters on the wall, her choices, her decisions. I hope she makes the right ones. Just saying that makes me want to lock her in a room forever.

Don’t get me wrong, she’s only eleven. She doesn’t have a cell phone, she still goes to bed at a decent hour, she can’t see PG-13 movies…except for Transformers because, duh, it’s Transformers.

She still needs her mommy sometimes, but I’m 39 and I still need mine, so that doesn’t make me feel much better. And, when I think about how dumb I acted when I started driving and then when I went to college…well, she’s just never driving or enrolling in higher education. That’s all there is to it.

Of course, that’s not true. She will grow up, despite my best efforts to keep her a child.

All I know, is that in a few more seconds my baby girl will still be my girl, but she won’t be my baby anymore. As much as I love seeing her grow, I really wish I could stop this clock.

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