Scars

Well, I have a ton of 'em. Most significantly are my knee from a canoeing incident and Jake throwing me into a water jump, a pretty good one from the c-section, several oven burns (I'm not sure why I forget it's hot), and two really great ones from the external fixater I had to hold my wrist together. They really don't bother me at all, although once a three year old told me I could cover them up with makeup if I wanted. Thanks. But I have to say, each scar was completely self inflicted, if indirectly. Probably drinking while floating down a river and deciding to 'try the rapids' wasn't super smart. Clearly burning yourself repeatedly on the oven is something only I can manage. You have to imagine that if you ride racehorses for a few years or try jumping horses off of embankments into water, you might come away with a scar or two. And as for the c-section, well, I did get pregnant on purpose, despite the jokes.
But I was looking at James the other day (well, like, every day, but particularly the other day) and I looked at the scars on his arm from the PICC line, and what is going to be a doozey on his stomach someday. It made me a little sad that he'll always carry those scars; I'm not even sure why it made me a little sad, but it just did. I guess cause he didn't have a choice in any of it, and certainly didn't have any fun in the process! I did meet a little girl at the hospital who had cystic fibrosis and she showed me her gtube scar. It totally looked like a bullet scar (or what I suppose one would look like in real life). Her mom told me that when she got it taken out, she walked up to a stranger in the park, lifted her shirt and said, "My daddy SHOT me!!" HA! Think of something to say to that! As long as we all keep our sense of humor...