The thing about a big impending move, and skin cancer, is that they can kind of overwhelm a girl.
When the “suite life” calls and says they only have one king sized bed for your family of four, or your dermatologist removes a large mole from your hip that hurts surprisingly badly, you just need a hug. But, since you work in Cubeville where hugs are forbidden you decide to retreat to your spreadsheets and swallow that lump.
When you drive through McDonalds for the nutritious dinner that you’ll be sure to include in your Mother-of-the-Year portfolio and the two Happy Meals come with very different toys which results in much weeping and gnashing of teeth, you once again swallow that lump and the guilt, always the guilt.
When the children are asked to select a few things we might get rid of before the move, and they select random puzzle pieces and a Polly Pocket outfit, you laugh a little but realize that this too will become your job, which of course you will do behind their back, hence more guilt.
And when the handsome photographer works until two or three in the morning every night to wrap up all the loose ends that remain from his bustling business you wonder if he might be a teensy bit stressed too, so you do not ask him to make you a homemade frappucino in the morning.
But in the quiet twilight of a busy day as your big first grader sleeps angelically, you ask your sweet Julia to be your nurse and she gently applies medicine to your back where more moles have been chopped. She is gentle and talks quietly and presses the bandaid on thoughtfully. She asks if it would be possible for her to be a nurse AND an artist AND a mommy when she grows up? “Absolutely!” you tell her, and she cuddles up in bed and tells you Fancy Nancy jokes until you both doze off to sleep. And you are thankful for this day.