Thursday, August 27, 2009

the one about the buttons

School has been fantastic. Save for the one child who quite possibly believes he is a creature for another world and should therefore be exempt from all classroom rules, all assignments, and sitting in a chair (twirling and lurching across the floor is the preference). I'll look at him as my excuse to be pushed, to think outside the box, and to be challenged.

You know that cute little book about belly buttons? [this one] I can never buy that book for Ruby for fear of drawing attention to her weird little thing that is her belly button. What Sandra Boynton forgets to mention in that book is that some belly buttons turn funny when you grow another human for nine months, and some belly buttons are outie-wannabes with a strange little nubbin in the middle.

[I realize I probably just lost a whole bunch of readers with such a strange topic on my blog. If you are still reading, go get a cookie for yourself-you are truly a devoted reader.]

I pierced my belly button on my 18th birthday. Well, I didn't pierce it myself because I could never do something like that. By some miracle, we didn't have school on my 18th birthday (and yes, I am remembering that correctly-I didn't ditch), so my good friend and I traveled to some random piercing artist (seriously, is that what they're called?) and I took the plunge. Allowed some strange man to stick a needle that was so long and so thick it should be illegal through my belly button. In case you were wondering, this was about the extent of my rebellious efforts, so I'd say my parents escaped from the teenage years with me rather unscathed. They may tell you differently, but they'd be lying.

When I got pregnant, I got unexpectedly and almost freakishly huge and obviously took out my belly button ring. At five months pregnant, my belly button transformed to an actual button and changed identities. It became an outie. In my naive state of mind, I assumed it would be a short-lived phase for my belly button and it would return to normal. Nearly 10 months after evicting the human who caused the belly button turmoil, my belly button has still not decided on a permanent identity. Half of it is in and half of it remains out. And quite frankly, it is disgusting. I don't know if this whole thing was caused by the belly button ring or if there was simply too much force on the other side of my belly, but either way, the pierced part will never sport any sparkly jewelry again. Not that I will ever be showing off my stomach again. And not that I was ever showing it off before, although I'm not learning that I should have before child-bearing evidence took over.

Strangely enough, Ruby's belly button is also quite undecided on its own appearance. It's never really been normal-her's can't be labeled as any traditional type of belly button, and instead it behaves as an innie with a little nubbin in the middle. She won't be getting her belly button pierced. Probably ever.

I think about her being worried about it later, because it does look sort of funny. I thought about just telling her that it was normal despite looking a little ya know, different. Instead, I like to think of her funny-looking belly button and my funny looking belly button as a lasting connection we have of her once living in my belly. Her belly button is proof of something that gave her everything she needed for the entire ten (not nine, people-don't be fooled) months she lived inside of me.

Her belly button is something special-so special, in fact, that it doesn't even have a proper name. So special that we can't even describe it.

Just as special as our sweet little girl is to us.

In the meantime, pray she's only rebellious enough to pierce her ears. You know, since the belly-button piercing is not an option.

Number of times belly button was said (not including that one): 18

Um, yikes.

Number of readers that are ever going to come back: Likely a big fat 0.

I promise I'm not that weird-we just have weird belly buttons.

Oops, that was number 19.

I'll stop.

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