I was reading Antique Mommy's Good Housekeeping article, when I remembered a time when I was little and I received my first scar. This was no ordinary occasion for me. I was only around three years old, but I remembered it for years afterward and told the story to whomever was in listening distance. I am sure that I disobeyed my parents before this occasion, but this was a time that I realized there is a good reason why I should obey them. We were living in Indiana at the time and it was summer. There was no air conditioning in the house and only one fan that I remember. Since my parents could not sleep without the noise of a fan in their room, there was no question of who would get the fan at night. I was desperate apparently. I asked them if my sister and I could sleep with the fan in our room that night. Of course, the answer was no and we were told to go to sleep. It surprises me to this day that I hadn't immediately fallen asleep after a full day of toddler fun. When my parents left the room and all was quiet, I turned to my sister in our bed and asked, "Do you want the fan in our room?" Of course, she said, "Yes," and we snuck over to the room next door. My sister has always been known to be the imp in the family, getting into trouble all the time, but that night I was the instigator. I often wonder if what happened later hadn't happened, would I be the one called the imp in the family? It was a little oscillating fan that sat on the floor. It was hooked up to an extension cord and was stuck. My little arms were too weak to pull the the two cords apart, so I used my brain to try to figure out another way to get them apart.....I used my teeth. The next thing I saw was static like what you get from a TV. My sister was standing right in front of me and I couldn't see her at all. I checked to make sure. "Dani, are you there?" I could tell she was still standing where I last saw her when I heard her close by. "Yes," she whispered. I then realized that something was terribly wrong and screamed. I must have fainted because the next thing I remember was being in my bed with mother bending over me sponging my mouth and cheek. As a mother now, I can imagine the terror I had given her that night. I remember laying on Dad's lap while he drove me to the hospital (there was no law about car seats back then), but everything thereafter is forever gone from my memory. I was left with a little scar on the corner of my mouth when it could have been so much worse. I had been so young when I received this scar that sometimes I never thought of it until someone asked how I got it. When I was a teenager, there were times I was embarrassed by it. Now when I look in the mirror and see this scar, I remember God's grace.
Doc and I have actually been tweeking with the idea of going on a date. I know. Totally weird. Not the idea of doing something romantic. It's the idea that we actually might have the guts to dump our offspring on some unsuspecting person. This has always been a hard decision for us to make. I mean, we do watch the news and let's face it, we're paranoid. That's probably why we haven't been on a real date that didn't include scarfing down our food as fast as we can and running back home to see if it's still standing and no one is bleeding. Just the other day, I asked Doc, "So, are we going out for Chinese tonight?" I was crossing my fingers mentally, chewing on my lip. I so wanted to be irresponsible. We haven't been on a date in forever and I was craving Chinese like crazy. I suggested that our 13-year-old son get a chance to hold down the fort for a couple hours. I even turned on my sexy voice and said, "We'll have our cell phone with ...
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