Last Saturday, I was in the midst of getting my Sparklecorn party girl groove on with Kelli when my phone rang.
Now, nine times out of ten I will ignore my phone, if I have even bothered to turn it on. I am not a phone person. I don't want to talk on it. I don't want to look at it. I don't want to tweet or blog from it. The phone remains fixed in my 1972 definition of phone: "Talk on it only when needed and get the hell off cause every second is costing you huge amounts of money". I mean, I still consider the cost of LONG DISTANCE CALLS, people. I may be the only living American to still occasionally think "Well, this is long distance, so tell me what you need to tell me and get off".
This, predictably, drives Terrance Bonkers. He is the phone maven. He is on the phone constantly. I believe if he could have the phone implanted into his hand, he would. He calls me a billion times a day (knowing I have my phone off) to ask "Where are you?" or "Whatcha doing?"
Now while I like to believe I am a super sleuth stealth ninja in my mind, in reality - I am not. I am wildly predictable. I am not prone to sudden fits of disappearing. In truth, there are weeks in which it is difficult to get me to move out of the house into the real world. And I mean beyond driving to second cup to get my coffee and driving back.
Terrance's perpetual phone status updates drive me crazy. I could care less if he is getting in the car, or at the corner of cavendish. Unless you are being crushed under 1000 tons of concrete and need me to arrange some kind of rescue or pulling some crazy Brian McKnight plane crash video goodbye I am perfectly happy to remain in my Infantile state of suspended disbelief and imperfect object permanence: When you are Here, you are Here. When I can't see you- YOU ARE GONE.
Back to last Saturday.... I had ignored Two phone calls and was headed to the bar to score a free gin and tonic from the bartender I had intentionally overtipped at the beginning of the night when a Text came through:
CALL HOME NOW
I am now a solid 3 gin and tonics into the evening. My buzz is warm and fuzzy and I am starting to want to dance. And now? CALL HOME NOW is staring at me. Shit, Shit, Shit.
I walk out to the foyer where it is a little bit quiet. I sit on the floor and call home. I try to sound like I have not had 3 gin and tonics and want to dance. I put on my Wife and Mother voice.
"Yes? You called?", I say.
Terrance starts the conversation with "Your daughter...." For those of you not in the know, this is code for "You need to deal with this shit, cause this is either 1. Your realm of expertise OR 2. I am going to knock her ass out if you don't get her to stop with this crap."
He gives me the thumbnail sketch. Her breasts hurt. More directly, her left nipple. He doesn't know what to do and she is crying and carrying on.
"Put her on the phone...", I say. I can see the party from my spot on the ground in the foyer. There is dancing and sparkle and day-glo sticks. Sigh.
Her voice hiccups and starts and stops. She has been crying and it is tough to understand her between the wavering voice and the throb of dance music. I run through my list of questions - Has she had ibuprofen? Has she tried a cool bath? Has she made sure she has lotion on her skin? How many ibuprofen has she had and how long ago? Is it just the left nipple or is it both? Would a cold pack help? Maybe her wearing a sports bra?
I calm her down and send her off with my instructions. Terrance comes back on the phone: "I told her all of the same things, but she needed to talk to you..."
"I know, lovey - I'll be home tomorrow
The night I get home from BlogHer, my period starts. It wasn't unexpected, but I don't attend to when it is due the way I did pre-vasectomy. Emily is sitting with me in bed. We continue to discuss her aching nipple.
I point to my own impressive set of breasts. "See these? They started out with the same amount of skin you have now. They had to grow to this size. Your skin is trying to grow, and all those blue veins underneath the skin are building new structures in your breast so if you want to nurse a baby someday you can. Your breasts grow Now and will grow again if you are pregnant someday ... Same process."
Emily looks from her chest to mine. "You started with the Same amount of skin as me?"
Me: "Yep, and my period just started, so you are most likely starting to cycle on my cycle..until your body is ready for you to have your own period."
Emily makes a face. "ugh. I don't want to do this."
I kiss her head. "I know sweetie and when they handed you to me and you attacked my breasts like some kind of crazed warthog, this discussion was the furthest thing from my mind.... BUT...
She laughs. "I did not attack your breasts like a crazed warthog."
"Oh, honey. You did. We called you "Snort" because you were squirming and making this crazy noise. You looked like a pig rooting for truffles. It was terrifying to know that you were looking for my nipple to clamp onto..."
She giggles and pats my breasts. Old friends.
Passing on the torch to new friends.