The Munch is Obsessed (FBtF)

We all knew The Munch had a boob obsession. I mean, let's face it--the kid was breastfed for 2 years, then threw a holy fit when I was forced to wean her. And, seriously, she was already down to 2x a day. She would walk up to me, put her chubby little hands on my knees and blubber, "Bbbbbbooooobbbiiiiessss!" And i'd look at her and say, "Sorry. Milkbar is closed." Just kidding. It somewhat broke my heart.

So, with the advent of Boobmageddon and all that came with it, The Munch has been involved every step of the way. From saying 'goodbye' to my old boobies, sitting on my lap and checking out my absence of boobies (the scars, the drainage tubes...), going to the doctor with me to get the tissue expanders filled, and now, to being enthralled with the new implants.

She wants to touch them. EVERY DAY. She walked into my office this morning and gave me a hug, then asked, "Can I feel your boobies?"
"Sure."
"They're squishier than those other things."
"Than the tissue expanders? Yep, they're MUCH squishier."
"They're squishier than your old, real boobies."
"Really?" (Like I said, these feel like Amazing Fruits candy. I guess my old boobies just felt like...boobies.)

And then she proceeded to lean over and lay her head on my right one. And she just sat there. OBSESSED.

Then she got up and made me coffee. The kid may be obsessed with my boobs, but damn, she makes a good cup of coffee.

Those Spring-Break Days

"Those Winter Sundays" has always been one of my favorite poems. Just one of those that has always stuck in my head--even years and years after my diploma lies buried in some heap that I once deemed 'important papers.' I figured i'd write my own version of it--from a mom's POV. Here's the original, then mine. All in good f un.   Those Winter Sundays
by Robert Hayden
Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he'd call, and slowly I would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house, Speaking indifferently to him, who had driven out the cold and polished my good shoes as well. What did I know, what did I know of love's austere and lonely offices? Those Spring-Break Days by Me Every day too I get up early and put a load of leotards in the Samsung washer, then with cracked hands that are colored with 'dirt' from labor in the theatre orphanage, feed the hairless, incessantly mewing cat. No one ever thanks me. The kids wake and hear the cold sputtering, brewing. When they know the coffee is consumed, they announce the morning, and slowly I rise from my desk, fearing the early bickering of the masses, Speaking indifferently to me, who has ensured they have milk for cereal and toys to keep them busy as well. What do they know, what do they know of a mom's austere and lonely position?

Amazing Fruits (FBtF)

Just returned from my visit with Dr. Boobenstein. My next visit isn't for another MONTH!! WOOO!! He said everything looks fabulous, and really, after everything i've been through, I have to agree.

I have a bit of wrinkling--or 'sharpei boob,' as i like to call it--on my left cleavage area, but he said it's okay. I may need some fat grafting done at some point, which means that they'll suck fat outta me somewhere, and insert it in the sharpei area. BUT...the good doctor said that we need to take it slow, wait for my implants to 'drop and fluff,' and then see what happens.

They are no longer rocks on my chest, but nice, pliable boobies. Somewhat like gummy bears. But not the good Haribo-brand. They feel more like..."Amazing Fruits." Do you guys remember that candy? Look for it in your grocer's checkout. Then, when you squeeze the candy, you'll think of silicone boobies. Aren't you glad I made that connection? You're welcome. I do what I can.

This has been a crazy 3.25 months, and I just want to say 'THANK YOU' from the very depths of my heart--to our family, our friends, and our supporters. There's no way the girls and I would have made it through this without you guys. Thank you for lifting me up when I needed it; thank you for cheering me on. Thank you, so many of you, for stepping in as caregivers for my girls--for loving them, for making them feel special, and for just knowing that they needed hugs and extra attention.

Thank you to our so many amazing friends who stopped THEIR lives to care for us. To bring us food, to run Clairey to gymnastics (to AND from), and to just hold and love on Jenna when she was having a hard time. Thank you to our amazing theatre family who welcomed Clairey with open arms, let her talk about what was going on, and was there for her at a million "Annie" rehearsals when I couldn't be. THEN, on top of that, made me feel so amazingly special when I could finally be there to help!! 

Thank you for the many thoughtful gifts I've received: beautiful bracelets to remind me of my courage, cool t-shirts, bottles of champagne...it has all been so appreciated.

To all of my guy friends--you know I got my boobs lopped off. I know it's awkward to talk about it or ask me about it without trying to look at the boobage. You've all done fabulous. Two thumbs up for not being creepy! They're just boobs, after all. Thank you guys for your support--Love you all!

Thank you, most of all, for the many, many prayers and good thoughts that have been sent our way. My gratitude is never-ending. You turned my fight with cancer into an absolutely tolerable, awesome, and crazy win.

P.S. Feel free to check out my new boobs in a non-stalkerish manner. They're pretty awesome. And THESE aren't going to kill me!! WOO HOOO!!!

Love,
ME

Losing eyeballs

In the shower with Clairey...

She's in the spray, and i'm facing the back wall, shaving my legs. Suddenly, she screams, "AAAAHHHH!!!!"

I quickly turn around and she's under the shower with her left hand over her left eye. She looks at me, and says in a loud, punctuated tone, "MY. EYEBALL. ALMOST. FELL. OUT."

I ignore the look of terror on her face and calmly state, "I'm pretty sure your eyeball didn't almost fall out."

"No! No!! It did!!" This kid is serious. "I felt it vi-ber-ating right here..." And she points to the inner corner of her eye. "It shouldn't vi-ber-ate, right?"

I just turned around and continued shaving.  

No liquor involved...

[I found this in my 'draft' folder. Yeah, this is how I roll.]

I have a scratch on my upper lip. --sigh-- guess that's what happens when you try to put a cat's head in your mouth. For the second time. While your brother tries to take a picture.

Welcome to my house!! It's loads of fun.

Getting a new set (FBtF)

WOOHOO!! In just a short while, I will be on my way to the hospital for my LAST surgery!! That's right, ladies and gents--i'm gettin' me a new set!

I cannot tell you in words how happy/excited/thrilled I am to get these ever-lovin' tissue expanders out of my chest. Even last night, as I was trying to get comfortable in my nest 'o pillows and the left one was killing me, I kept saying, "One more night, one more night..." as my go-to-sleep mantra. You never know how much you'll miss pliable, squishy boobies until you don't have 'em.

I'm seriously sitting here, trying to think of one positive about these rocks on my chest....I got nothing. They're awful. Well...I guess they gave my body some shape over the past 2 months. There. That's all you're getting. They suck. The end.

The nurses told me I had to wear a button-down shirt (I may be too sore to lift my arms after this), so I opted for my sock monkey pajama shirt. I'm getting new boobies. I can do whatever the heck I want.

The surgery is at 9am--please send prayers/good thoughts/vibes that 1) The surgeon has skilled hands 2) That everything goes smoothly and as planned 3) And most importantly to me, that I wake up outta this mess feeling good enough that I can go see my Munch in "Annie" tonight!! Yes, the plan is to have this surgery and then go to the theatre tonight. 

Yeeeee!!!!