Let's get this one out in the open first and then we shall not speak of it again unless absolutely necessary, as it is in no way funny and probably not a big deal: I have a lump in my breast.
Don't be alarmed. It's a cyst. At least, that's what I was told over a year ago. It acts like a cyst and I've had it for about three years. The darn thing likes to hang out and make me nervous, however, so Doctor Cautious is sending me back to the land of blue goo for a second look. I was originally scheduled for the end of May, but I moved it to the end of June. I didn't have the heart to miss yet another one of Gutsy's fieldtrips at school. And besides, it's a stupid cyst. Either that, or it's the lamest cancer on earth because it hasn't done much of anything for three years but grow and shrink. If it's cancer, it's the slack-on-the-couch-and-wear-track-pants type instead of the go-into-the-office-and-do-your-job type.
So effectively, it would be the me form of cancer. Maury paternity test shows vs. getting a job. This is not a difficult decision.
But regardless, I'm going to hope that it's a cyst. Oh, and the lymph node that swelled up behind my ear? I'm hoping that's Spawnling's cold I never caught, or the sinus infection I think I have, or the wisdom tooth impacting in my gums. None of these things are particularly dangerous, just annoying. Thankfully I don't have time to be annoyed right now because I'm moving in four weeks.
To prove my point, let's examine Wednesday afternoon:
On Wednesday afternoon, two thirds of my gremlins and my beautiful self were invited over to Taz's house for a playdate. Taz is one of Gutsy's preschool friends. He's a cute, highly energetic and very talkative four-year-old. Remind you of anyone? Hint: starts with a G and rhymes with Buttsy. They're peas in a pod, those two.
I'm used to 'spirited' children. I have two and am quite possibly (most likely, but I'm trying to remain positive) bringing up a third through his infancy. I'm old hat at this stuff. When Taz accidentally poked Gutsy in the forehead hard enough that it left a welt, I didn't blink (although Gutsy did, as it narrowly avoided his eye). When Taz told me he was a pirate and proceeded to whack me in the face with a pool-noodle, I smiled back through the pain (I had no idea pool noodles stung like that).
Been there, done that. Taz would need to try harder to get me to flinch. I'm The Maven, breeder and trainer of the Terrifying Trio. I don't do shocked. Sorry, kid. If you want to shock and awe, I can find out when my ex-bookclub is meeting. You might make a few women choke on their sushi and other themed foods. I get to stay and take pictures, though.
Later on, Taz comes up to me and starts drawing on a Magnadoodle. He has me guessing what his various scribbles are. I guessed a dolphin and a starfish and a bird because I'm an amazing decipherer of all illegible preschooler drawings. But the fourth one had me stumped.
Me: Is it a goat?
Taz: Nope.
Me: Hmm... is it... a spider?
Taz: Nope!
Me: Ooookay... is it... a gorilla?
Taz: Haha! Nope! Want to know what it is?
Me with a huge smile reserved for adorable children who's company I greatly enjoy: Sure!
Taz: IT'S A BIG FAT LADY! IT'S YOU!! HAHAHAHA!!!
Me: ....
Taz's mom: OH MY GOD!! TAZ!!!! OH MY GOD!! NOOO!!!!! TIME OUT CHAIR, NOW!
Me: ...
Taz's now very embarrassed mother: Oh Maven, I'm SO sorry. Taz, you can't say things like that! Everybody comes in different shapes and sizes... Oh damn, I'm sorry!
Me with the shock wearing off and the humour of the situation dawning on me: I never would have guessed that!
Good on you, Taz. I am a big fat lady and that was a nice drawing of me. And you know what? I'm moving into a great house in four weeks and I just don't give a crap. Because even in all my fatness, I can still fit through the new front door.
No hard feelings, kid. Want to split a chocolate bar?
You get the small half.
Don't be alarmed. It's a cyst. At least, that's what I was told over a year ago. It acts like a cyst and I've had it for about three years. The darn thing likes to hang out and make me nervous, however, so Doctor Cautious is sending me back to the land of blue goo for a second look. I was originally scheduled for the end of May, but I moved it to the end of June. I didn't have the heart to miss yet another one of Gutsy's fieldtrips at school. And besides, it's a stupid cyst. Either that, or it's the lamest cancer on earth because it hasn't done much of anything for three years but grow and shrink. If it's cancer, it's the slack-on-the-couch-and-wear-track-pants type instead of the go-into-the-office-and-do-your-job type.
So effectively, it would be the me form of cancer. Maury paternity test shows vs. getting a job. This is not a difficult decision.
But regardless, I'm going to hope that it's a cyst. Oh, and the lymph node that swelled up behind my ear? I'm hoping that's Spawnling's cold I never caught, or the sinus infection I think I have, or the wisdom tooth impacting in my gums. None of these things are particularly dangerous, just annoying. Thankfully I don't have time to be annoyed right now because I'm moving in four weeks.
To prove my point, let's examine Wednesday afternoon:
On Wednesday afternoon, two thirds of my gremlins and my beautiful self were invited over to Taz's house for a playdate. Taz is one of Gutsy's preschool friends. He's a cute, highly energetic and very talkative four-year-old. Remind you of anyone? Hint: starts with a G and rhymes with Buttsy. They're peas in a pod, those two.
I'm used to 'spirited' children. I have two and am quite possibly (most likely, but I'm trying to remain positive) bringing up a third through his infancy. I'm old hat at this stuff. When Taz accidentally poked Gutsy in the forehead hard enough that it left a welt, I didn't blink (although Gutsy did, as it narrowly avoided his eye). When Taz told me he was a pirate and proceeded to whack me in the face with a pool-noodle, I smiled back through the pain (I had no idea pool noodles stung like that).
Been there, done that. Taz would need to try harder to get me to flinch. I'm The Maven, breeder and trainer of the Terrifying Trio. I don't do shocked. Sorry, kid. If you want to shock and awe, I can find out when my ex-bookclub is meeting. You might make a few women choke on their sushi and other themed foods. I get to stay and take pictures, though.
Later on, Taz comes up to me and starts drawing on a Magnadoodle. He has me guessing what his various scribbles are. I guessed a dolphin and a starfish and a bird because I'm an amazing decipherer of all illegible preschooler drawings. But the fourth one had me stumped.
Me: Is it a goat?
Taz: Nope.
Me: Hmm... is it... a spider?
Taz: Nope!
Me: Ooookay... is it... a gorilla?
Taz: Haha! Nope! Want to know what it is?
Me with a huge smile reserved for adorable children who's company I greatly enjoy: Sure!
Taz: IT'S A BIG FAT LADY! IT'S YOU!! HAHAHAHA!!!
Me: ....
Taz's mom: OH MY GOD!! TAZ!!!! OH MY GOD!! NOOO!!!!! TIME OUT CHAIR, NOW!
Me: ...
Taz's now very embarrassed mother: Oh Maven, I'm SO sorry. Taz, you can't say things like that! Everybody comes in different shapes and sizes... Oh damn, I'm sorry!
Me with the shock wearing off and the humour of the situation dawning on me: I never would have guessed that!
Good on you, Taz. I am a big fat lady and that was a nice drawing of me. And you know what? I'm moving into a great house in four weeks and I just don't give a crap. Because even in all my fatness, I can still fit through the new front door.
No hard feelings, kid. Want to split a chocolate bar?
You get the small half.