...but then I lost it. Because my cell phone was in my purse.

But let me back up a bit so you can get the whole story.

Last Wednesday, Drama Kid and I were on our way to the park for the standing summer playdate with the other soon-to-be first graders. We were running late (typical me). I pull into a space just as Viva la Vida comes on the radio.

My son has turned into a huge Coldplay fan, I think because of the iTunes commercial. It stops him in his tracks. It's cute.

Anyway, he didn't want to get out of the car until the song was over.

DK: "Wait! Don't turn it off. I like this man's voice."

Me: "Honey, the song is on all the time. The other kids are waiting. Maybe I'll buy it on the computer later."

He gets out. He runs all over the playground while the moms crowd into any available shade. We stayed longer than we should have and I didn't pack lunch (not typical me).

He had an appointment for a much needed haircut so we raced away from the park and stopped at the grocery store next to the salon for a Lunchable.

Again, Coldplay on the radio, this time Clocks, which I LOVE.

Me: "Listen to this. This is the same man who sings Viva la Vida. Mommy loves this song."

So we sit in the car, both of us listening. The Kid had his head cocked to the side, not looking at me, but really concentrating on the music.

Me: "This part right here, with the piano by itself, that's my favorite part."

We stayed in the car until it ended, heads bobbing, imitating playing piano. It was a sweet moment. A "stop and smell the roses" moment.

Thursday I'm at home alone. The Kid is in camp. I'm on the computer with the radio on in the background. And I hear the cue to call. So I do. And I won!

I have a copy of the new CD and am qualified for the grand prize: a trip to Chicago to see Coldplay and a little backstage action after the show.

Yeeeeeee Haaaaaawwwww!

I danced around the room to Viva la Vida thinking how happy The Kid will be when I tell him we can listen to the song. Whenever. We. Want!!

I wasn't thinking about the trip part of the prize because really? I'm just not that lucky.

Fastforward through the weekend of record high temperatures, hours of mini golf and arcade games, a movie night potluck in Santee, 5 1/2 hours at a birthday pool party, laundry, a little cleaning, catching up on my reader and researching ways to improve my blog and it's almost 1:00 in the morning on Monday. I'm beat.

I'm showering off the sweat, sunscreen and chlorine and I think, "Hmm, I should go get my cell on the off chance I actually win." And then I fall into bed.

Which is why I missed the phone call.

All 14 of them.

Because my phone was still in my purse, upstairs, completely out of earshot.

When I saw all those missed calls starting at 6:35am, my stomach dropped. I felt like I was going to puke. I couldn't eat until late afternoon.

I actually won. Hubby and I could have taken our first vacation in almost 6 years. I could have begged Chris Martin to call The Kid, his newest little fan. I would tell him about the time I saw him, Gwyneth and Apple in my Target and how cute Apple is.

I'm from Chicago and I haven't been back since Drama Dad graduated from boot camp in 1995. Pizza from Lou Malnati's. The Sears Tower. Navy Pier. Brookfield Zoo. The Magnificent Mile.

All gone. Because my phone was in my purse. I totally suck!

To the lady in Escondido who's taking my trip: you owe me!

*Side note: Viva la Vida came on while typing this up. I called to The Kid and we danced in his room. I swung him around, dipped him and flipped him. He laughed and laughed (I'm not usually silly with him). Not a bad consolation prize.

The Scars We Bear

I went into Photoshop to revise my picture over there on the left. I'm new to the software and wanted to play around with the color and remove a few more strands of flyaway hair (anal AND a little vain, that's me!).

Just for kicks, I got rid of the keloid scars on my chest. And it made me tear up a little. I've had them so long, I don't remember what it's like NOT to have them. But seeing me scar free and smooth made me sad. This is the real me, the me I want people to see instead of my scars.

I hate these scars. I don't really remember how I got them but I hate them. They itch. Buttons, zippers and rough fabric irritate them. The seatbelt constantly rubs against them. People stare and kids point at them. I'm embarrassed by them. They make me feel ugly. Even on my best hair, make-up, and outfit day, the scars still ruin it a little. And I don't like having my picture taken. In any photo of me, they are always all I see.

I'm not as confident as I used to be but I can fake it. I'll buy a low cut top or dress because it looks good everywhere else but I'm convinced everyone is staring and thinking, "she'd be kind of pretty if it weren't for those ugly scars."

If they weren't smack in the center of my chest, I'd probably forget all about them. But, they are right there, staring back at me in the mirror. All the time.

It's a Catch 22: I don't want them showing, but I spend so much time scratching when I cover them it's just not worth it.

I try to tell myself to get over it. That they really aren't a big deal. If two scars are the worst thing in my life I should count my blessings and quit whining.

I've caught people staring and pointing. Someone asked me if they were a tattoo. I'd had a few Midoris one night and caught a guy at bar, staring. He apologized and gave the usual, "do you mind my asking what those are?" I told him they were scars left over from heart surgery where I almost died and it was hard for me to talk about it.

He looked horrified and apologized some more for bringing it up. I felt bad and fessed up. I said I got kind of tired of people asking about something that makes me feel so self conscious and that I try hard to forget. He still felt really bad and I got a free drink out of it.

I think we all have scars of some kind, physical or emotional. And they can be so crippling can't they? In the grand scheme of things mine are such a minor thing but they can alter my mood just like that [snap].

I wasn't planning to blog about it but since it made me emotional and I want to be as "real" as possible on this blog I started typing before I could chicken out. Do you have any scars (of either kind)? Do they get in the way of you living your life? How do you handle them?