Today

Today I had a biopsy done on a lump I found in my back a month or so back. Scary, yes, but it turned out to be just a benign mass that I will probably wait to have removed until this summer. After the biopsy, I managed to pass out cold on the doctor's office floor. I have no idea why. I didn't see the needle (I don't think it would have bothered me if I had though--going through natural childbirth with no drugs has totally ridded me of any fear of pain), I didn't lose any blood, nothing traumatic happened. I just fainted. One minute I was talking to the nurse about how chubby Alice is and the next moment I'm laying on the floor with a bunch of nurses around me and a bit of my J. Crew tiered camisole laying over my lips. I recovered quickly, but it was definitely odd.

Today I drove back from my appointment and took my son to karate. I love to watch Sam do karate--probably why I drive him an hour each way to go. Sometimes I think the class is more for me than for him, but it does him great good, and I am a firm believer in extracurricular activities for kids. And he likes it, and I can't help but think he is pretty good at it. He got a stripe on his belt and he smiled grandly--this big smile that explodes from him like fire. It was one of those moments where he looked at me and I wanted to freeze the moment in my head forever. I want to be able to call back that smile the day I see him graduate from college, the day he gets married, the day he wrecks his car, the day he gets his SAT score and is disappointed with it. That smile tells me just how amazing my son is.

Today my oldest daughter shaved her legs for the first time. Her legs have been rather hairy for a while now, but I have kind of let it go until I thought she was ready emotionally for it. She finally decided she was. It is going to be 70 degrees here tomorrow, and she wants to wear a new tiered skirt she has that has matching arm warmers. Yes, arm warmers. At any rate, I took her to the drugstore on the way home from her voice lesson (her grandmother takes her to singing while Sam does karate), and let her choose her own shaving gel. She picked Raspberry Rain, which seems fitting for some reason. I showed her how to do it when we got home, and then she stalked off to the bathroom to do it herself. She is so independant. But it paid off--she did a phenomenal job for it to be her first time and seemed pretty proud of herself, wearing monkey-printed boxer shorts as she walked around the house. I can't believe how old she is. Part of me wants her to be Alice's size again--new and fleshy and totally dependant. But the other part loves seeing her grow and change and become this cool little lady. I love her dreams, her laugh, the way she is simultaneously proud and embarassed of her intelligence.

Today my husband called me from the road and we talked like we were college again. My husband just accepted a big promotion that puts him on the road a lot--for instance, this week, he left Wednesday and comes back tomorrow (Friday). It has been harder than one would imagine. For instance, I woke up in the middle of the night last night and realized that I didn't know to turn out the lights in the house or to take off my glasses before I go to sleep--my husband always turns out the lights and removes the glasses after I am in bed. But tonight I came home and called him and we giggled on the phone over his hot dog lunch (since he is on the road a lot, he tries to eat at little mom and pop establishments and take pictures of them--some of these are pretty entertaining) and my passing out. It reminded me of all the time we have spent apart--his freshman year in college, the year he worked at the State Dept., the summers in Russia, my time at creative writing retreats. We have always dealt with these times well. Absence, in some ways, does make the heart grow fonder. And there is something about those fevered, giggling phone calls--full of stories and whispers, plans and excitement. It was the perfect ending to a day that was at times strange, at times fun, and just purely normal.