eatthefrostingfirst

 I was lying on the couch, six years ago almost to date, when I felt a pain under my bra.  I went into panic when I felt a lump. "Do you feel this?" I asked my husband. He didnt. I get it. It was tiny. But I felt it. And knew it wasn't supposed to be there.  It was a Sunday but you bet your ass that the minute my Dr's office opened the next morning, I was asking to be seen.  She felt it too. But it was the side my mastectomy was on. My breast implant was a little saggy so "we" werent exactly sure what it was from.  I knew. But I was hanging on to her being not sure. Naturally an ultrasound was immediately scheduled.  The radiologist scanned my fake boob and said I dont see anything abnormal. Yea, well you arent in the spot I'm telling you! Once she found it she said "oh".  It was the week before the holidays. Do you know what it's like to try to get a biopsy and results given to you a week before the holidays?  You know how the rest goes. I

 My lesson of the week is one I learned from a lazy night of watching the Hallmark Channel. Tis the season and all when people meet or are reunited, a local restaurant needs to be saved or the town Christmas parade is in jeopardy and the two save the day and fall in love at the end. It's all hokey and a complete escape from the insanity of the world we are all living in. So the main character is now a successful wealthy CEO (obviously) but was a nerdy overweight child in high school with few friends. Ta da- he is now confident, handsome and starring in a movie. So yea, I realize this isn't for real but he looked at his HS photo and said yea, I was insecure and figuring out who I was back then. And now I know who I am.  So I know this isn't a lightbulb going off kind of moment but my point is this- you can change.  You do change.  You grow and learn and realize what's important and what is utter nonsense. You find your people and grow away from the ones who don't lif

 When people make fun of someone getting beaten- When people hang signs in support of hating people because of their religion, race or sexual preference- When kids, as young as elementary school, are bullying other kids simply because they don’t like them we need to stop and take a closer look at what the fuck we are doing to make this world a better one. I’m so disgusted and I know many of you are as well. I’m a Jewish woman who is now listening to ignorant people say how they hate Jews. And thanks to social media- the ignorance is spreading like wild fires.  I have friends who’s skin color is different than mine- and friends who have different sexual preferences than mine- I have friends with different political beliefs So be it. People- you do you.  My town’s Facebook page recently had a post about kids being bullied- at age 8 and 9. I read so many replies about similar situations and I was in disbelief. If you’re child is that young and bullying someone they are learning to do this

I was always taught to be strong. Stay strong; my Mom would tell me. I loved my Mom. She turned into my best friend. I loved talking with her and hearing her advice and thoughts. But I'm not sure staying strong is always the best advice. Or more so, do we always need to stay strong? I wear my heart on my sleeve. I'm an open book. I cry openly. I feel heavily. I'm sensitive (sometimes to a fault). I also think I'm strong. But not all the time. And that's okay. Because there are times that we cannot always hold it together. There are times that it's hard to be the one in control. To keep our emotions in check. To hold up ourselves and others. I was in my early 30's and at a funeral of a young woman. It was tragic and sad and I was uncontrollably sobbing. My Mom held my hand and told me to hold it together. "Be strong" she said. This has stuck with me for years. Why did I have to be strong? Why was it wrong to show my sadness and how I was overcome

There is so much I say each year about Pinktober. Mostly I say pink ribbons don't save lives, early detection saves lives. That being said, I'm all about awareness because, clearly, no one would know that early detection saves lives, if not for awareness. I was 41 when I was first diagnosed. My second mammogram EVER found early stage breast cancer. Stage 0 actually; also known as DCIS (Ductal Carcinoma In Situ). Yes, Stage 0 sounds like a good outcome in terms of cancer stages- and it is. Yet my DCIS was extensive and found later to be aggressive. I chose a unilateral mastectomy and continued with 5 years of Tamoxifen (an estrogen modulator.) This came with all fun side effects like ovarian cysts, overnight menopause, hot flashes, just to name a few. It was no walk in the park but comparing to what I now know, it kinda was. (Relatively speaking of course.) Due to being high risk, I had the luxury of going for yearly breast MRI's along with my yearly mammogram. My breasts a

Oldest was 28 days old. It was our nightly visit to the NICU and we knew the drill pretty well at this point. Desk check in. Wash hands well, then hand sanitize. Get buzzed through the door and take a right to NICU room D. Oldest had the corner spot. I didn’t know then that it would be the his coveted spot for 3 months. (And then an additional 3 months at another hospital) As I admired him from the isolette and stared at his monitors, alarms started to shriek. Nurses surrounded him within seconds and the attending DR at the time came running in “here we go again” she told me. She seemed at ease, but I was terrified as DH and I were being escorted to the waiting room , while they did whatever they needed to do. We hadn’t a clue what was happening. Minutes seemed like hours. I was crying and shaking, convinced something tragic was happening. It was 20 minutes until someone came out to tell us what was going on. “Come on in now” the nurse told us. “He’s okay?” I cried. “Oh my gosh. Yes. H

Jewish people get two New Years. The one on January 1 and the one that falls sometime around now in the Jewish calendar. I consider myself lucky because it gives me two times a year to start over. Two times to make resolutions about losing 20 lbs, worry less, have more patience with the teenagers, be zen. But it also reminds me that I fail miserably at resolutions so here are my few tips to all of you. Just live. Seriously. Sounds so simple but we all know it’s not. Wake up each morning and do what you need to do, but then also take a time during the day (or week or month ) and just be thankful you’re here. So much crap and tragedy in the world we need to be more grateful. We bitch easily but we don’t thank enough. So thank you. For reading and being here. For following me and commenting. It takes a village and I so appreciate you. Next- I say this one a lot. Clean house. Not literally (unless you’re in need of a good vacuum and basement clean out) but get rid of people in your life wh

  Hey Senior High school Parents, Considering I was in your shoes last year at this time (and I’m in the same shoes this year), I now call myself an expert. I’ve actually always been an expert in worrying, over worrying, over analyzing and waiting for things to happen; that probably will not happen , but now I totally excel at this. So I’m here to help you out. The daily 9-15 brochures, letters and flyers your senior is getting in the mail each day most likely could wallpaper your bathroom. Ours go directly into recycle however one came the other day from a college I didn’t know that caught my eye.  It said “ Dear Student Name, blah blah blah, small class size, blah blah blah, beautiful campus, blah blah ..” it made me laugh. Because this is what all that mail looks like. It’s unlikely you’re going to find a school by the mail that you want to check out all of a sudden but the blah blah blah school totally gets my vote for creativity.  I’m guessing by now your senior has a few colleges

Good Morning Freshmen and welcome to the first long weekend of college. Some of you have decided to go home for the long weekend. I get it. It’s weird to spend your first weekend on campus and have nothing to do. You barely have homework yet. You haven’t made a ton of connections. You’re missing your boyfriend/ girlfriend/parents/friends/ dog. Some of you have stayed on campus to attend the big football game. You are dressed head to toe in your college gear and are ready to tailgate, cheer, party and engulf yourself in all things college. You are confident and social and are ready to embrace your new 20,000 besties. Some of you are sitting in your dorm room. Shy and unsure what to do with yourself. You’ve met people, but no one really to connect with so you kinda are just winging it thru the weekend. You’re checking social media; feeling pretty confident everyone you know is having an amazing first week; except you. Some of you are in between. Doing a few things. Making some friends bu

 24 hours ago my oldest was sleeping soundly under my roof. A new chapter of life has begun . For him. For me. It kind of snuck up on us.  19 years does that to you. Yesterday he was struggling to breathe in a tiny isolette and today he’s living in a dorm room on a lofted bed. Move in day was seamless. I mean, I have nothing to compare it to but I’ve heard horror stories and this was insanely organized. You drive up and tons of upperclassmen in green shirts  are there to unload your stuff and bring it up to your room for you.  Throughout the day, the green shirts check on you. Tell you where to go and how awesome the school is.  The green shirts are polite, respectful and enthusiastic.  I have wishes of my son being a green shirt. After deciding where exactly the Patriots wall hanging should be hung, plugging in the fridge and putting away clothes, we were off to Target. Yes. The trip to Target for all the things I asked if he wanted 24 hours prior that,  he now, decided he wanted. I b

 Oh hey-  It’s just me after a Target trip, shopping in the college section.  I’m the mom in the college section. With the kid going to college. In the college section. Do you hear me?  I mean, I knew it was coming.  He applied. Got in. Went to orientation. Yet here we are. In the college section. And it took Target for me to realize this shit is real. And happening. In a week. I’m excited for him.  I am. It’s time to take the next step.  Be all you can be. Grow,thrive yada yada. But its my baby. My 2lb 9oz baby, who has been by my side for 19 years. And now I’m shopping for hanging stuff and storage containers. In the college section!  So here we are. Next week you can find me begging for Valium In the pharmacy aisle. Good luck to all of you who’s kids are heading off for the first time. Here’s hoping we ever sleep again.

  Well it’s that time again. August. The time where my emotions go all over the place. It’s been 19 years so you would think that I would get used to August rolling around every 365 days but for some reason the calendar gets me every time. I love summer. I love the sunshine and the beach and the relaxation. I love lobster rolls and ice cream cones. Other than mosquitos there’s very little I don’t love. Not to mention both my boys were born in summer. But summer also reminds me that I was in a hospital for 6 1/2 weeks trying to keep my twin boys safe. It reminds me of really scary and quite frankly, shitty times. It reminds me of daily scares, my husband needing to visit me, my Mom sitting with me during the afternoons, nurses I grew to love, and it reminds me at one time I had twin boys growing inside of me. On a frightening morning of August 7, 2003 15 or so nurses and doctors ran into my hospital room bathroom because they had to “pull the emergency cord” in the bathroom.  There was

 My summer Facebook memories show quite a few pictures from summers past. Although I do love a good flashback, there are photos of me with a scarf on my head or with really short hair. Both scenes make me cringe. I want to delete them all. It was an extremely difficult time in my life and I absolutely hated how I looked. When you go through chemo, many worry about their lack of hair. It’s not about vanity. It’s about identity. It’s about looking in a mirror and not having a shouting reminder that you’re going through cancer. Because believe me, we don’t need any reminders. I am 5 years out. My hair is long again. My eyelashes and brows are back. I have more scars than I care to count. Any kind of low neckline shows my scar from where my port was, and I have little dark pen marks that show where radiation beamed me up 35 times. I’m happier and healthy. I’m also acutely aware I’m lucky to have my scars and long hair. So as much as I want to delete the old pictures, And as much as I can’t

 Oldest is off to college which means I joined the school parent Facebook page(s). By pages, I mean the “official”‘one (assuming looked over by administration) and the “unofficial” one (run by parents of incoming freshman.) Guess which one has me riled up today?  Yup. Unofficial. Because people like to stir pots. I refuse to give into the shit stirrer and I’ve been warned by friends, who have been in this incoming freshman parent role before, that there’s a shit stirrer(s) at every school. Why?  Because people like to complain. Listen, I am queen of complaints, but it is usually reserved for my husband or bff; not a group of nervous parents who are wondering if their kid is going to fit in, excel, eat, find the dining hall and remember to do laundry. Shit stirrer decides to post that she met a kid who is a student  at (unnamed college) and is not happy.   Imagine an unhappy kid? Unthinkable!  A kid who doesn’t like the food at college?  Blasphemy!  One kid, out  of thousands , who she

  You know what’s great about the beach when you have older kids?  The screaming and whining kids don’t belong to you. But they once did.  So parents of little ones please do not feel the need to apologize. Or look mortified. Because we have been there. And yes, I know you may be envious because my kid is sitting with AirPods not even talking. Our they’re out boogie boarding. Or maybe they’re not even at the beach with me allowing some quiet time. And yes, it’s true.  It’s peaceful. But your kid screaming and crying won’t last forever.  And it’s a public beach so no need for you to look at the rest of us apologetically.  Your kid isn’t bothering us.  They’re kids. And although you may want my life right now- I’m looking at you snuggling with your sleeping baby on your lap And I kinda miss your life. So you’ll see new Mom that some day you will be in my beach chair sneaking glances at a different beach chair remembering that the days are oh so long but my how they years are short .

 I have a hard time knowing how to “just live.” Let sleeping dogs lie. Let’s wait and see. Leave well enough alone.  Yea.  Not me. I’m a bit impulsive and I often don’t count to 10 before reacting.  I try so hard, every day, to live in the moment. I suck at it. My mind is constantly 5 steps ahead and my brain absolutely doesn’t know how to shut down at night. If there’s a problem going on in my life I’m always thinking the what if’s or making up scenarios.  Thank god I married the half glass full guy because he is forever stuck with his half glsss empty wife. I really do try. I want to let those sleeping dogs lie. I know first hand that life throws you curveballs (kinda, like every few years if you live in my shoes) so I know I need to be all zen in the moment. And sometimes I do rock it. I just did a gorgeous walk on the beach and totally zoned out. Until I walked back home and listened to construction going on outside my house and the dog has to go to the vet because she’s not acting

 Had a scare a few weeks ago.  I’m fine.  I thought I was fine which is why I avoided having it checked out for a couple of months.  Because I’ve kinda turned into that person.  Or maybe I was always that person.  But lumps and bumps worry me. So I went. My DR was pretty sure the minuscule lumps I felt were just fatty tissue but an ultrasound was scheduled. And even the ultrasound tech (who isn’t supposed to tell you their thoughts until a radiologist reads the scans. But she took pity on me) also said she thought it was nothing. So that was two nothings.  So I moved on because oldest was graduating high school that weekend and the last thing I wanted to do was worry about a nothing.  Until it was maybe a something.  The ultrasound was inconclusive and recommended an MRI and/or biopsy.  So because I’m the girl who got breast cancer twice in the same damned breast, my mind went 100 steps ahead and of course MRI wasn’t until after graduation weekend. I pushed through my fears, planned fo

 Oldest is graduating in 2 weeks. It’s not lost on me that he is 18 and this is when new chapters often begin; yet I am his Mom, and in my eyes, he is always my baby.  I know I’ve written a lot about his rough beginning to life.  I brag about his strength.  I marvel at his easy going personality. I admire his perseverance. In 2 weeks, my once 2lb 9oz baby who lived with tubes and wires til the age of 19 months, will be walking up on a stage to accept his high school diploma.  And I’m so freakin proud!  This Mom will be beaming with pride And bawling behind a pair of dark sunglasses. Am I ready for his next stage?  That would be a big no. And an emphatic; hell yea!  Because this young man amazes me every single day, and although I want to keep him safe and protected, I know that I’ve done my best to prepare him to spread those wings. Shout out to Rascal Flatts for starting my tears 14 days early.  (WARNING: proceed with caution without tissues nearby ) MY WISH by Rascal Flatts I hope th

  There are definitely places and times I wouldn’t go back to if I got paid but I have to say top of my list is high-school. It just wasn’t my time.  Average student in a flock of mostly above average kids. A bit insecure, cared more about my boyfriend then the punishment I may endure for skipping class to see him, and my Mom just didn’t understand me.  (Boy was I wrong there) But navigating high school now?  With Instagram and Snapchat and Twitter and whatever else is out there that I know nothing about - I imagine that adds to a whole other level of being a teenager. And that’s what our kids are in the thick of. It’s mental health awareness month and if there’s ever a time to focus in on this- it’s now. We’ve heard,nationally; of three,star college, female athletes, who have died by suicide in the past couple of months. (And sadly, too many kids that we don’t know about). There are kids with anxiety (can you blame them? Do you know what it’s like applying to colleges these days? Need

  I love watching the dynamics between parents and their teens. Mostly because it makes me feel normal.  Did a college tour with youngest yesterday.  Mom, Dad and other teen boy in front of us waiting to check in. Mom: Tell them your name. Kid: I don’t want to. You’re the one that signed me up, you check in.  Mom: We are here for you. You need to do this. (Admission person waiting patiently for kid to check in) Gives his name. They are handing out t- shirts and she asks kid what size he would like. Kid looks at Mom. I smile (behind my mask) Mom clearly embarrassed. Tell them your size.  Kid: I don’t know? Medium?  Banter continues until info session begins. Kid continues to sulk. I’ve done this process with oldest and am now in the throes of it with youngest so clearly this now makes me an expert. Moms: don’t make the tours for your kid. If they don’t want to tour a particular school, then you’re just wasting your time and resources. I realize some kids need a gentle push and not all a

 DH bought a scratch ticket the other day.  The purchase coincidentally fell on the anniversary of my Father’s death.  I said maybe my Dad will bring us good luck and I scratched away. We won $10 I screamed, excitedly.  I mean, we never win anything.  Dad was watching over me. Three days later, we go to cash it in.  “Your eyesight is terrible”, my loving husband tells me. What? We didn’t win? It said “win $10”. I was sure of it. No; he says. It said “win $100”!  Love you Dad!  Miss you every day.

 I joined the club. I didn’t want to really but there was so much peer pressure. Everyone seemed to be joining.  I got the invite on Monday but didn’t officially join til Wednesday.  People told me the club wasn’t so bad. I call bullshit. I thought having a single room with Netflix all day would be kind of nice for a bit, but turns out it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.  The days in the club are spent hacking, sneezing, aching, fevering, sleeping and not sleeping. Not everyone has the same visit to the club.  Some feel it’s just a minor inconvenience but others; like me, have a much harder time during their stay.  I’m thankful for science, because otherwise my club stay would be a lot longer, and maybe even I would need to  stay in one of their satellite locations.  Room service was pretty good up until the person(s) delivering the food were also invited to join the club. (Toast and jam by the way. For 3 days straight. Not to the fault of the delivery man but the initiation to this cl

  On April 13, 2000 my mother was one of 24,000 who had died from Covid 19. Two years ago mask wearing was, not only  foreign to us; but also they were hard to find. People were hand sewing and online orders took weeks. We were making our own hand sanitizer. Buying anything that said “kills germs”. We wiped down our cereal boxes and some were wearing gloves to open their mail.  I was doing lots of puzzles. Lots of neighborhood walks followed by naps.  Fruits and veggies were hard to come by.  We are two years past the beginning of this nightmare.  Masks are now sold anywhere from CVS to Neiman Marcus. Hand sanitizer is plentiful and thank goodness; so is toilet paper. I outgrew the puzzle phenomenon and grocery stores no longer have 2 hour lines or one way arrows to shop.  And I hug my friends again. But two years after the start to a global pandemic , my Mother is now one of 960,000 who have lost their lives to Covid 19. We are hopefully on the other side of this - We are hopefully in