Dear Future Teenagers; Grown-ups are Stupid Too Sometimes!

Alternate Titles:

"A Cautionary Camping Tale" or 

"Why Doug Thinks I Take Far Too Long to Tell a Simple Story"


When I start this story, you might think you have an inkling as to how it will end.
You don't.

This story starts with the Father's and Son's Camp-out, put on by our church (specifically Doug) last weekend.

Last Friday, Doug got out all the gear, packed a huge duffel bag full of clothing and blankets, gathered our three oldest boys, and headed to a nearby (Momoishi?) beach for the annual Misawa Branch Father's and Son's Camp-out.

Two sleeping bags were left behind, not a single bag of marshmallows was left at the Commissary, and my Boca-burger tin-foil dinners MAY have given D food poisoning; BUT, despite these shortcomings, evidently the event was a huge success.  The boys had lots of fun, all got filthy dirty and came home thoroughly exhausted.

But before coming home, they did a little beach combing.

I'm assuming the goal was to find more of this:

Sea Glass.

We love hunting for sea glass!

As you may have gathered from my recent Giveaway of a sea glass necklace.

Incidental, my friend Mel, was the winner of said necklace.

This is Mel:

This is me dancing at her bachelorette party many many moons ago:

Back when I had boy hair and shopped at the D-A-V (Disabled-American-Veterans Thrift Store.)

Back before my preppy husband purged my soul-and closet-of all style.  And polyester.

Back to the story...

While there wasn't any cool sea glass to be had, Doug didn't come home empty handed.  He brought home a few rocks instead.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, er--base, I was invited to partake in a "Girls Night" with Healthy-Friend-Janeen and her daughters and a neighbor daughter.  After a delicious vegetarian dinner, we did some Mani/Pedi's.  The little ladies in attendance both had their cute little fingers and toes pampered and painted in multi-colored patterns.

Unfortunately, baby Gray (the only boy allowed to attend) was a bit fussy, so my fingers and toes were left unadorned.

Maybe that is what put me in the mood for additional self-improvement and pampering.

Either way, on with the story...

Skipping to Sunday.  I ditched church.  (Due to another series of circumstances involving new dressers and allergies, I was up all night coughing and slept in the next day.)  That afternoon, when I finally dragged my sorry bottom to the shower, I noticed a new addition in said shower.  A small gray rock.  A pumice stone.

Making up for my missed manicure of the other night, I grabbed it and scrubbed my heals vigorously; all the while wondering if this really was a pumice stone and this really was what Doug had intended for it by putting it in the shower.  At some point in my scrubbing, my eyes fell upon my stomach.

Now, don't think me unlady-like for mentioning the following:  Since mid-way through my pregnancy, I've been cursed with a sore affliction.  I've blogged about it before.  It's called...

linea nigra.

black line.

Basically, in some women, sometimes, while pregnant, we get a line of darker pigment running down our stomach.  Mine starts 6 inches above my belly button and goes down to two inches below it.  During pregnancy, it's light.  After your stomach shrinks and it gets compressed it's very dark.

Just one of the fabulous side affects of that wonderful physical condition called pregnancy.

So I had a brilliant idea.  Although this line will eventually fade on it's own, I thought I'd help it along a bit.  In the past I've rubbed exfoliating face scrub on my stomach with minimal result.  This time I thought I'd be a little more efficient.

I used the pumice stone and I pumiced.  Hard.

And then I got out of the shower.

And my stomach started to sting.

And I started to worry.

Maybe I'd gotten little rock particles in my skin!?

Maybe this wasn't such a brilliant idea!?

I decided I'd better spray it with antiseptic spray just to be on the safe side.

I sprayed.

I screamed.

Like a Banshee with a hangnail.

Later, as I tried to nurse Gray without letting him actually touch my blistered stomach, I complained to my neighbor about my affliction over the phone.

After laughing at me and then mocking me and then calling me "Lucy" (as in, I Love....)
she offered to bring over some soothing burn cream.

She brought it over.

I rubbed it on.

I let out an extra, EXTRA loud scream.

She had grabbed the wrong tube.  It wasn't soothing burn cream.  It was extra EXTRA strong antiseptic cream.

And that is the story of how I acquired an eight inch long, one inch wide scab on my stomach.  (And belly button.)

And why I can't hug my kids or nurse my baby normally.

And why you should never use strange Japanese beach rocks on your skin.

No matter how dire your need for a pedicure or how much you love sea glass.

And that is all I'm going to say about THAT!

Post Edit:  It's taken me awhile to get around to digging out my old scrapbooks to find pictures of Mel and I being ridiculous.  So I'd like to report that my stomach is now almost entirely healed...with minimal scarring.  And furthermore, I think the line is lighter!  So it helped!!!