eatthefrostingfirst

I wish I could always write in my sarcastic rhetoric that has become my native tongue but alas, life gets in the way of always being quick mouthed (?) Sometimes life just plain sucks. Not me. I'm okay (you know, in spite of the arctic temperatures and my yearly question of why do I live in New England) (But could be worse and live in MN with my friend who is a balmy neg 45 today) But some shit stuff is going on in a friends life. And in another friends life. And in a kid I dont even know's life. And I feel like I'm being bombarded with really crappy, awful stories. A  FB memory popped up today that said "My 3 1/2 year old is giving up naps. Say it isn't so" Really; my young self? You do not know how good you had it back then that the lack of napping was your biggest daily problem. Yes, it is absolutely true what THEY say. Small kids. Small problems. Big kids. Bigger problems. But what THEY do not tell you? Is that when you hit your 40'

I think I've commented before that I read the obituaries. I know it's a bit morbid but I've done it for ages. My dad used to joke he reads them to make sure his name isn't in there. Today I read about a 53 year old woman in a neighboring town who died of MBC (Metastatic Breast Cancer) There was a link to her blog. What I have been amazed with since I decided to start blogging about cancer is how many of "us" do the same. I'm guessing we all do it for similar reasons (therapeutic) and to share about our path (you know I hate the word journey) and to update friends and family about how we are doing without needing to reach out to each individual personally. I just read a bit of her blog before I started crying. It doesn't take much for me to cry of course. It doesn't take much more than the mention of "no evidence of disease" to all of a sudden hearing it's back, to cause us "survivors" to throw us worries into a n

I lied to youngest for years telling him the McDonalds playspace was only allowed for birthday parties. It worked until he was smart enough to realize all those kids going in weren't invited to the party. I also lied saying that the talking animals at Bugaboo Creek didn't talk on Mondays so we could go out to dinner without fear of the talking moose. I know. #Motheroftheyear. For years I tried to fold a fitted sheet like my mother in law (attempted) to teach me. I even watched a you tube video. Post cancer I decided life is too short to worry about the fitted sheet. I got an A in typing. I now realize that I dont even think my boys ever had to learn "ASDF :LKJ". They will certainly never have to know the annoyance of the white out being dried up. I have decided to get rid of my 300+ CD's. Mostly because I no longer have anything to play them on. I have to ask my teenagers how to use google doc and when I do they get annoyed at me. Really kid? I

t's been a trip around the sun since my last breast MRI. A trip since I finished all my cancer treatment. Which only means that it's time for; yet another, MRI Can I get a WOOT WOOT? I definitely get anxious about them (and I cut myself a break on this. Understandably so) It's not fun sitting still for so long in a chamber cocoon thingie but it's really the mental stuff that gets to me. Because I can't move and I hear a beating drum sound for 25 minutes well, really, what is there to do but agonize? For 25 minutes with orange ear plugs in your ears, placed in the torpedo position, face down- and your breasts inserted in holes - the goal is to try to not think about cancer so you can make it through without having a panic attack. Easy enough?? The man (or in today's case, lovely J with a southern accent) from behind the wall speaks “ok Abby- the first session will be 6 minutes long. Try to lay still” I named her Oz because you know- duh - &qu

Dear Diary When I'm half a century old and frustrated with my teenage boys communication skills, please remind me of the times when... *  I was pulling my hair out because they were not eating, sleeping or pooping in a toilet. *Remind me of the days when I got to snuggle on a couch, get oodles of kisses, and was smothered with choke hold hugs. *Remind me when I did the happy dance because our pre school started to offer a "lunch bunch" (giving me another 60 minutes of quiet, alone time) *when playdates consisted of a trip to the playground or a music class when we sat criss crossed applesauce singing songs about our names. *when Moo Baa La La La and Goodnight Moon were part of the bedtime routine. Because there will be a time; dear diary, when I will forget all this. There will be a time when my snuggly chunky babies will have opinions about what they wear (which will only have logos, be dri fit and short sleeved) and eat (which will not have beautiful col

Once upon a time I rang in the new year. I stayed up way past midnight and auld lang syned with the best of them. And then I became a Mom and staying up past midnight was tough work. When the boys were little we would celebrate new years eve at 7PM. I would change the clock, bring out the happy new year hats, blow horn thingies and plastic champagne glasses (filled to the rim with only the best of the sparkling cider). We would countdown to the new year and poof...just like that- my friends with toddlers went home, kids were asleep by 8PM and DH and I would fall asleep before Dick Clark talked about the ball dropping. I have teenagers now so they would be kind of on to me if I pretended the clock read midnight before Jenny McCarthy was sloshed. We do still toast with sparkling cider early because now my kids stay up until midnight and the parents were in bed by 10. In fairness to me, I had aspirations to stay up but a migraine hit me out of nowhere at 10 and I couldn't e