Just like Old Times…only Completely Different.

During my senior year in college, I lived in a tiny apartment with seven girls. We made up our own sorority, Sigma Gamma Gamma. We spent countless hours hanging out at home doing ridiculous things, like eating spaghetti with chopsticks, making paper rings to drape around the entire apartment counting down the days until graduation, and being filmed for a TLC show. You know, typical college stuff. It was one of the best years of my life.

I just got home from my trip to L.A. where I visited one of these former roommates. She happened to marry my cousin, but that is neither here nor there. (By the way, my boys survived and thrived while I was gone…just as I predicted!). She has a beautiful new baby girl, who is my 2nd cousin thrice removed (or something like that), and I was dying to see her.

While I was there, we decided to skype with one of our other former college roomies. She is also home on maternity leave, with an 11 week old son. We chatted for a while about random whatever kind of stuff. About the word for earthquake not being the same as the word for Vermont (you had to be there)…and then we started talking about boobs. Just like old times. I remember many conversations about boobs in the SGG house…who wanted them bigger, who wanted them smaller, who was showing too much to a guy, who wasn’t showing enough—you know, the usual. But this time, we were talking about breastfeeding. Oh, the trials and tribulations, and successes, of breastfeeding.

When we lived in our tiny apartment 10 years ago (gasp!), I can assure you I never imagined a day that this would come. Sure, I hoped I would maintain a friendship with these ladies for the rest of my life. But there was no way to even comprehend technology like skype, or that our boobs would one day serve a much higher purpose. Cheers to that.

I lost my cell phone in LA. I had to call my hubby from a payphone to let him know I landed safely. That part was totally just like old times.

For my Mudder.

My mom was my Brownie troop leader. My mom provided (the best) snacks for an entire neighborhood of kids. My mom painted sets for musical productions. My mom sat freezing her tuchus off in an ice skating rink. She brought oranges and water bottles to soccer games. She hand painted shirts for my elementary school teachers. She came on pumpkin picking field trips. My mom worked full time and somehow never missed a school concert, talent show, conference, class party…the list goes on. I used to think my mom was so amazing because she could do it all. But now that I’m an adult, and a mom in my own right, I realize that she couldn’t do it all—nobody can—she made countless sacrifices to make me feel like whatever was going on in my life at the time was the most important thing. That makes her even more amazing.

My mom made a home that wasn’t just comfortable for me and my brother, but was a second home for all of our friends. She was a surrogate mom to so many of our friends who really needed a place that they could come ‘home’ to.

My mom cooked meals from scratch, every night.

My mom taught me to make Shabbat.

My mom gave me the love of baking in mass quantities.

My mom showed me that it is ok to be afraid of something, but it is triumphant to
face that fear.

My mom taught me to bring hostess gifts.

My mom taught me to throw a party. Not just a little shin-dig, but a full blown fete.

My mom taught me that it is important to find reasons to have a celebration.

My mom always challenged my crazy ideas. I called it pessimism. She called it realism. Whatever you call it, it made me dig deep to get what I thought I wanted.

My mom threw me a wedding that was better than my wildest dreams.

My mom is an amazing grandmother. Her grandchildren have no idea that she is
constantly making sacrifices to make them feel like they are her number one priority. I know one day they will have that realization, and they will feel her love even more.

My mom isn’t perfect. But her flaws have shown me that there is beauty in being a real woman.

Happy Mothers Day to my Mommy. I love you to the ends of the earth. And I thank you today, and always. Even though some days I’m louder about other stuff, so it’s easy to miss that.

Daddy Daycare

I’m leeeeeaving on a jet plane!!! Mama is packing her suitcase (just one!) for a little 3 day getaway! More than one person has asked where my children will be. Sit down for this one. Are you ready?

With their father. *GASP*

I know, I know. Ca-razy. I actually trust the man I married, the man I chose to make these children with, to be fully responsible for their care. My husband is a pretty mild mannered man. But if you want to see him get riled up, suggest that he has to “babysit” his kids. Fair warning…step FAR away before making that suggestion. He has wanted to be a dad since long before he met me. In fact, I would bet he had second thoughts about me because I’m not endowed with birthing hips (hello, 44 hours of labor!). Our boys are 50% his (well, by looking at them you might guess they are closer to 98% his), and he takes at least that much responsibility as their dad. He changes diapers, he does middle of the night feedings, doctors appointments, bath time, meal time, and of course he rocks at playtime.

Does he do it differently than me? Probably. But here is a confession for ya: I forgot to patent my awesome and amazing parenting techniques. I know, shocker. But I fully understand that my way isn’t the only way. It isn’t even always the best way…ok, most of the time it is (I joke, I kid!).

So as I pack my suitcase today, I’m full of excitement for two reasons. 1. I get to visit dear friends and family, including our newest family member and 2. I know my boys, all of them, are going to have a rocking time at home without me.

A Graduation of sorts.

On February 8, 2002, I woke up with what looked like a golf ball lodged in the middle of my chest. I remember the date clearly—not because it was the start of a 9 year adventure—but because it was the morning of the Olympic Opening Ceremonies, and I was hosting a huge party complete with a 10x20 foot projection screen for watching the event. The party was awesome...and when I woke up the next morning, the lump was still there. By Monday morning, I was sure that lump wasn't a figment of my imagination, and because I knew I hadn't swallowed any golf balls, I decided it was time to go see a doctor. My doc saw me that same day, and sent me straight from her office to an ultrasound. The ultrasound tech uttered the words that changed my life, “It is a tumor.”

I was blessed to live close to one of only two doctors in the entire world that specialized in treatment of my type of tumor. He removed my pectoral muscle, some lymph nodes, and part of my rib cage—my body was clearly ravaged, but my spirit held strong. I relapsed in 2003, and again in 2004. Each time, my amazing doctor treated me with dignity, careful skill, and optimism. It is because of him that I have remained lump-free for the last 7 years.

Today, that same doctor uttered these words: “You've graduated.” No more trips to Hopkins. No more tearful nights before my trips to Hopkins worrying about whether the tumor has come back. No more worrying about 'what if' the tumor comes back. Of course, I know that there is a chance that I will relapse again. But I've beaten the odds by making it this far. I beat the odds when I stood under the chuppah on my wedding day. I beat the odds when my Tatiman was born, and again when Finny Bo Binny joined our world. I intend to continue beating the odds every day, for the rest of my life.

No graduation is complete without a speech. So here goes:

At my brother's wedding, I gave a toast that started with this saying: When you love some one, it gives you strength. And when you're loved by someone, it gives you courage. I want to thank my friends and family for supporting me all of these years—I haven't forgotten the 7-layer cookie tray, when you saw my butt through the hospital gown and laughed, or the times you picked me up for drives on sunny days. I especially want to thank my amazing husband and my two beautiful boys. You make every day I beat the odds worth it. You are my strength and my courage.