Category Archives: Big Piece of Cake

She Knows What She Wants and…

Yesterday, Eleanor was playing Barbies and conducting a rather sweet little dialogue with herself:

Eleanor: I love my Barbie… She was the BEST present.

Me: [Awww! She loves her Christmas present…she’s actually grateful for the things we give her. Maybe this is a step toward not demanding more all the time…]

Eleanor: My Barbie is the BEST present I EVER picked out for myself.

Oh.

Well – she comes by it honestly. Here’s to a new generation of discerning women who would rather pick out their own presents.


The beat goes on…

The Women That Time Forgot

Angels spotted on Tom and Lorenzo last week.

Can you believe these women? I agree with the “Fabulous and Opinionated” experts in refusing to hear a word against their gorgeousness. They are AWESOME (and I rarely say awesome without irony).

Long before girls started saying they were “a Carrie” or “a Samantha” they claimed to be “a Sabrina” or “a Jill” (I myself, was always “a Kelly“). Charlie’s Angels made one of Hollywood’s first forays into TV narrative about strong women who (literally) kick ass.


Oh sure – the choreographed fight scenes were ridiculous and the they were all probably holding their guns wrong. But the idea that the girls could beat the boys was what mattered. The twist of them looking like supermodels just made it fun to watch and in all honesty, was the reason why anyone bothered to pay attention.


Feminists may disagree – but I’m okay with their objectification as sex symbols. Because as far as the characters themselves were concerned, their looks came second. You never saw much footage of Kelly blow drying her hair or Chris applying mascara. If they weren’t getting ready for an under cover assignment, they were on one. They had ambition, priorities and no apparent concern for whether they were good enough for a man. If some guy at a bar implied that Sabrina wasn’t his type, she’d probably just karate chop him in the neck and call it a day.

Charlie’s Angels showed us a group of beautiful women who were unexpected bad asses. They didn’t rely on their looks to get men. They relied on their looks to get men to underestimate them. Then they opened a can of whoop ass. These are women who used their hotness for good. And what could be wrong with that?

And now that they’re aging B list (if we’re being kind) starlets?

Personally? I don’t care if plastic surgery makes them look more like their wax museum counterparts. Wrinkles would be an abomination to their legacy (and speaking of legs – mine never looked that good in high school!). They should be immortalized in silicone. Angels are immortal after all…

And yes – this goes against pretty much everything I believe about aging gracefully. About women not feeling the need to change their looks to be acceptable to the rest of the world. But there is something about the Angels… There is a certain level of campy celebrity that not only allows for, but demands plastic perfection. An exception must be made for the Angels. And a selfish one at that since we’re not the ones who have to turn back the clock.

So I’d like to thank the Angels for staying young. For looking so fabulous.

If they’re willing to go to the trouble – to keep that image alive – then who am I to criticize. I’d rather just enjoy their enduring iconic celestial glow.

Happy Valentines Day!

Repeat from Wishing True today… But I just love it so much I don’t want anyone to miss it!

I found this adorable download on Inside a Black Apple years ago, and I always meant to feature it on Valentines day (first here, on The Big Piece of Cake and then on Wishing True) – but somehow it never happened.


The little blondie reminds me of my Eleanor.

Big sloppy virtual V-Day kisses to you and your own loves!

The Date

No – not that kind of date…I wish! (Chris and I do need to get out more.)

The “date” is the day that I will have my surgery: March 11. First thing in the morning so I don’t have hours to work myself up into a ball of anxiety. I’m such a sissy.

But like I said – at least I won’t be having to have alien abduction surgery (i.e. I don’t have to be awake during the procedure – like I did for my c-section). And it’s such a routine operation that I really can’t justify any high drama. I have women in my neighborhood who are battling breast and ovarian cancer. They’ve suffered painful exploratory surgeries, the removal of body parts and months of chemotherapy and radiation. I watched my mother go through all of that and more, and she did it all with humor and courage. All of them do. My situation is nothing in comparison and it would be insulting not to follow their lead.

I consider myself very lucky. Not only to be handed a very minor and fixable problem – but also to be surrounded by these beautiful warriors. They put my own fears into perspective and prove by example that I really can face anything that comes my way. We all can.

In the meantime – I have to remember to post more. No excuses since I’m now going for short and sweet.

So here’s what I’ve got for today:

Me: Okay George – remember what I said… If you want to go to preschool, you have to listen to your teacher. I don’t want to hear anything about you whining and crying today…

George: Okay Mom.

Me: Mrs. K is in charge and you need to follow directions. If she says that you spend the whole day whining and crying again, then you may need to stay home on Monday. So remember: listen to the teacher and NO whining or crying.

Eleanor: And no yelling either.

Me: Yes – no yelling.

Eleanor: And no fighting.

Me: That’s right – no fighting.

Eleanor: And no screaming or pushing or hitting or…

Me: …Let’s not set ourselves up for failure here. Just focus on “no whining or crying” okay?

Fingers crossed…

The Updates! Plus a Little Sparkle for Good Measure…

I’ll start with the most important update. I had a great consultation with the general surgeon yesterday.

She had absolutely no cancer-related concerns and in fact, was entirely confident that she knew exactly what she was looking at and what needed to be done to fix it. Surprisingly, there are actually two issues involved.

First the “suspicious mass,” which much like I had hoped, appears to be scar tissue resulting from my c-section four years ago. It may be endometria that developed into scar tissue or it may be an actual suture – but either way, it’s not dangerous and it can be removed. So [insert Arnold Schwarzenegger accent here] it’s not a tumor.

The second issue is that the tissue where the mass is located didn’t heal well and I can definitely expect to start developing hernias if it remains untreated. So there is a reason why post-cesarean, I was always a little puffier (that’s the medical term) on one side than the other.

SO the surgery will not just involve removing a lump – it will be a hernia operation.

And then I felt a million years old and began investigating details for bingo night at the local community center…

I still have to schedule my surgery, but I assume it will take place in early March. I was told I could wait until a more convenient time, but I’d rather just get it over with. As much as I dread going under the knife, I’m kind of done with the suspicious mass and all the of drama it stirred up. Good riddance, I say.

Oh – and here is something funny about my surgeon. She’s a super model. Or – more accurately – she looks like one. I make all of these jokes about Grey’s Anatomy, but holy hell – I really do find myself living though Seattle Grace moments. First I hear risque staff banter while waiting for my MRI, and now I’m meeting with a surgeon straight out of central casting. Let’s hope that the parallels end there. I don’t want to be that character with the routine surgery who flat lines due to some bizarre complication, while the dude getting a head transplant in the adjoining OR is miraculously raised from the dead. I prefer that my procedures remain too boring for prime time, thank you very much.

And that’s that for the (sort of) health scare. It will all be fine. And I can now get back to the business of obsessing over far more mundane issues such as cellulite and crows feet. Or maybe not – now that I’ve been given some serious perspective on what is really important in life.

Oh who am I kidding, I’m already poking at arm flab and sighing at the muffin top that’s taken up permanent residence over my Lucky jeans.

The other update is that I have a new job. A part time job, I mean.

As you may know, I helped my parents set up a blog for their Key West based home decor shop. We started the Style Key West blog in January 2010, but the intention was always to use it for promoting a new online store. That online store has of yet to move beyond the concept stage, so a year later I thought I’d throw my virtual hat in the ring. I asked my parents if they’d let me do it.

And they said yes!

Aaaaand…now I just have to figure out how. Any advice or suggestions for vendors, platforms, web designers, general social networking dos and don’ts, etc. would be much appreciated. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I’m only just starting to do the research.

I have a pretty small operation going here at The Big Piece of Cake – so once [online store name to be determined] is up and running, I’ll be asking friends to help be spread the word. I’ll try not to be too annoying about it.

In the meantime? I’m going to have even more limited time for writing long posts. (And yes – all of my friends who complain about my long posts? The ones who are now smirking about this “disappointing” news? I’m giving you the finger.) But instead of taking an indefinite hiatus as I had previously planned, I’ve decided to go for brief daily posts. Just sound bytes, pictures…vignettes of each day. Just to stay in touch.

So I’ll end this – my last LONG post for a while – with a small piece of today’s happenings.

We had a milestone for the twins today: their very first Picture Day!

George could have cared less, but Eleanor approached the event with enough enthusiasm for two. She had a few ideas regarding wardrobe, and from what I could make out, she was trying to decide between her formal “Christmas dress” and an outfit involving a cute striped sweater coat.

This morning though, I was surprised to hear that she was in fact, planning to wear both as a combined ensemble. This would have looked cray-cray, and I suggested that she do either/or. Luckily, she ultimately agreed, and of course went with the more dressy (overdressed) option. We added a cardigan for warmth (the dress is sleeveless) and a headband. This is a Christmas picture showing the dress and hair accessory:


I told her to pick whatever shoes she wanted and she went with her “ruby slippers.” They wouldn’t have been my first choice…I would have suggested the silver mary janes – but it could have been worse (like light up Sketchers).

All of the fashion talk put me a little off my game and we completely missed Oliver’s bus pick up. So I had to drop him off before taking the twins to preschool. And the minute we were on our way out the door, Eleanor flung out an arm, dramatically announced that she FORGOT SOMETHING, and then raced upstairs demanding that we all wait for her.

I thought that she had to use the bathroom, but in fact, it was something far more critical. She needed to apply her “makeup.” This would be clear lip gloss, blush so pale you can’t tell she’s wearing any and some pats with a powder puff that makes her skin “sparkle.” After several minutes of primping she regally descended the stairs, sparkling like the newest member of the Cullen family. And we were on our way.

Pictures were taken up on arrival, and my daughter make a beeline for the bright light and blue backdrop. “All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up” INDEED!

She’s now racing around the house in a costume half-super hero, half-Disney princess – demanding I call her Sparkle Cloud and claiming that she’ll rescue the world with rainbows.

I totally think she can.

I Very Missed You

“Mommy! Where were you? It was too long. I cried.

“I very missed you.”


“‘Cause I pretty love you.”

-George Hood, February 2011

So yeah – things have gotten A LOT better since the last time I posted. I mean, I still have a “suspicious mass” in my lower abdomen and an appointment with a general surgeon tomorrow. But I’m also still feeling pretty confident that it’s all going to be just fine.

And the morose depression stuff? Also better. Talking to my husband and hearing from so many good friends helped put things into perspective. Actually, just knowing how much people care was probably the biggest help. Even though I closed comments, I still got e-mails from the people I don’t see every day. I wasn’t great about replying – but I do want to thank all of you who went out of your way to reach out to me. I’m not very good at asking for help – especially when I think I’m being overly dramatic (which is always). But every single message warmed my heart and reminded me of just how lucky I am to have so many wonderful people in my life, IRL or otherwise!

In the meantime, I figured some things out, and now have an exciting new opportunity that involves blogging and design/decor. But I’ll have to write more about that tomorrow along with details about how my appointment went.

Continue to send me the prayers, positive thoughts and good juju. I honestly believe that all of it counts. Just knowing that it’s coming my way makes a big difference. And makes me even more sure that I’ll kick ass in this whole surgery thing.


Even though I’m a wuss. I can fake it.

Critical Mass (Alternatively Titled: Having a Nice Day, Wish I Was Here)

Okay – several things…

First? I’ve been getting some questions, so I thought I’d post an update on my “suspicious mass” situation. Since writing about it last week, I’ve made an appointment with a general surgeon for February 8. I also called my doctor to see what she thought of the MRI results and what I should expect going forward. She said that the MRI ruled out things like hernias, etc. but didn’t actually provide any answers as to exactly what the nasty little thing is.

She said that it could either be a growth resulting from scar tissue/sutures (it’s less than an inch above my c-section scar) or it could be a small tumor. Oh yeah, and it’s “a little bit larger than a grape” – a comparison that has made my aversion to fruit even stronger, I might add. Basically she said that, “it doesn’t look scary, but it definitely shouldn’t be there.” They want to figure out exactly what it is – so it has to come out. I’m not really feeling married to it right now…so that’s fine with me.

The surgery will most likely be out patient and I’ll have a very small scar (which is the last thing I care about at the moment). All in all – it’s probably nothing and that’s what we’re all assuming. But waiting isn’t easy and I DO have an imagination. I also have some serious fears involving surgery. This surprised my husband, who was supporting me on the “it’s nothing,” theory. But even if I can block out any other possible outcomes – I STILL don’t like the idea of being cut open. I asked him if he had any recollection of my previous feelings about surgery and hospitals. Because this phobia really isn’t anything new.

When I had my wisdom teeth removed in my twenties, I (still very doped up) thanked everyone on my way out because “I didn’t feel a thing – it really wasn’t that bad!” Not to mention the fact that I planned a rather unpleasant gynecological procedure for the same afternoon so that I would be in too much pain/too drugged up from my earlier dental surgery to be scared.

Then there was that time I was a week overdue with Oliver, and we were getting ready to leave for the hospital so I could be induced. I burst into tears because I didn’t want to go. I just wanted “the whole thing to be over!“

And who could forget my foray into acupuncture to try to “turn” breach baby George seven months into my twin pregnancy. I would try anything to avoid the dreaded c-section. I even made my doctor check when I was being prepped for the OR, “just in case” we had a last minute miracle. Ridiculous – but my fear had no shame.

I have never been keen on the idea of medical procedures. In fact years ago, I once said to a friend that “I NEVER want to have to have surgery. It’s a goal.” Since then I’ve had a couple of hits to my no surgery ever streak, but none of the suspicious mass variety.

I may not be planning my funeral, but I still have a lot on my mind.

And to be honest, I’ve been feeling kind of down lately. For a long time really. Off and on, I mean. Every once in a while when I write about something serious or semi-serious, various online friends comment about my “honesty.” This is a little ironic because I’ve never had the reputation for being particularly open about fears and sadness. I have a tendency to tune out anything negative, just so I can get through the day. Focus on the good things. Aim for happy.

That’s really a big priority at this point in my life. I used to want to live in a certain kind of house in a certain kind of city and attain a certain lifestyle with a certain amount of material wealth. Nothing big and flashy – just some minor luxuries to augment what I already had and appreciated as a fairly charmed life. And of course that involved clothes, furniture…things… Now? I just want to have a nice day.

And it’s not that I’m not having a nice day, most days – I’m just struggling with some personal failure issues, and it’s wearing on me. In short – I think I’m kind of depressed. Since I’ve been called honest, I’m just going to say it.

Or no – I’m just going to write it. It seems that I’m more honest when I’m writing. Maybe it’s cowardly…or maybe it’s just that saying things makes it all sound far more dramatic than I want. Or than it is.

I’m really not a very dramatic person. I used to think this made me a little boring. Now that I’m older with children and worries that stretch beyond not being able to afford a new pair of shoes, I view my lack of drama as a good thing. I’m more practical. A realist. I know how to get through the day with as little stress as possible. I value happiness.

So having admitted to myself these feelings of inadequacy and their current snowball effect (seriously – just now), I believed I’m tasked with actually doing something about it.

That means that I need to streamline things a bit. Try to focus a little more on all of these areas where I’m falling short. Where I’m ultimately failing the people I love – including myself.

I started this blog as a creative outlet. Previously, I had never written anything but e-mails to friends and business documents. I wanted to try something else – see if there was anything to this idea that I could write something more significant. What better way than to send a message out into the void. No pressure and no chance of failure. A safe, elegant solution. And it was great. I found out a lot about myself – both good and bad. I now have new ideas and some confidence to back them up. I have a better sense of self.

But I’m also stretched rather thin, and the amount of time and energy that I expend on “writing” is taking away from the rest of my real life responsibilities. Which contributes to personal and family stress, screws up priorities and generally makes me feel like an all around failure – none of which makes for a nice day.

At the risk of sounding dramatic – you know how I try not to do that – I think I’ve reached critical point in my life where some decisions need to be made. Fun hobbies may need to be put on hold for a while. And until it actually earns a paycheck that will help support my family, blogging is a hobby.

So I’m taking a few steps back from what I started here almost three years ago. From spending hours sending messages into the void. If I want to write every week, then I need to find a way to make it pay for the time spent.

But I can’t go away altogether. I’ll post a picture here and there. An anecdote or two. A link to something great that someone else wrote. Post something a friend who doesn’t have a blog would like to say – their own message into the void.

And I’ll tell myself that this is temporary. And maybe it will be. And maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll be back next week with a “forget what I said and let us never speak of this again” request. Or maybe I’ll just hit delete and be done with it.

I don’t know…

But right now I’m thinking I’ll hang out on the fringes. I’ll post bits and pieces here (and yes – an update on my surgery) and more pretty stuff will show up on Wishing True. I’ll devote more time to Style Key West (because I do get paid for that you know – thanks Mom and Dad!). I’ll still show up in your comments section now and again, and you’ll stay in my Google Reader.

We’re not breaking up, we’re just taking a break. And hey – maybe we’ll be stronger for it.

I’m hoping I will.

Comments closed on this one. Instead, I’ll wish you love and luck and more nice days than you can count.

The Fab Five (Bloggers, That Is…)


Thanks to Trop 50 for sponsoring my writing about fabulous bloggers. This year Trop50 is granting 50 fabulous wishes. Click here to enter for a chance to win $1,000 to help grant a friend’s wish!

Today, I’m participating in another Clever Girls Collective organized sponsorship. What made this immediately appealing to me is that it involved doing something I love: talking about the fantastic bloggers that I obsessively read. The only drawback? I could only pick five.

So I had to pick an angle. Set some parameters. Whittle a list of 500 down to five. Okay – a slight exaggeration – but just barely. After almost three years online, my Google reader overfloweth.

In light of my current health crisis (another exaggeration – but a little drama never hurt anyone’s blog post), I thought I’d go with five blogs that I find particularly inspirational. When considering one’s own mortality, most tend to ponder how short a time we have to make the most of every day and truly appreciate all that we have. I myself, look to others from whom I think I could learn a thing or two.

There are a number of people who have long been inspirational favorites of mine for one reason or another, and I’ll start with an obvious one – one that may just be on everyone’s list:

I started reading Nie Nie Dialogues before I started my own blog in June 2008. I loved how this young mother managed to make raising small children look like a dream come true. She took what others would accept as an ordinary life and made it seem like a daily cause for celebration. Her blog inspired me to (try to) see every day as an opportunity for magic – and maybe even find some.

Then, just a few months after I started The Big Piece of Cake, she was in a terrible plane crash. Her survival was a miracle and fervently prayed for by her family, friends and readers. People all over the world followed the story of her recovery, and her blog became more than just a happy place. It was a lesson plan for doing it right. Finding joy in exactly what you have and making every day count.

We were initially taken with the beautiful life she had made for herself and her family, but watching her fight to get it back has been literally breathtaking. She overcame incredible odds to be able to go home, mother her children and find her magic again. She challenged herself both physically and emotionally and she won.

In her new life, much has changed, but she still makes the most of every day. She makes me want to fight for my ordinary everyday life. And she inspires me to see true power in pure and simple love.

My next source of inspiration has a similar story in that she too, once had to fight for her life.

I can’t remember when I found Heidi – but it was definitely during my first year of blogging. I thought she was funny and her writing was beautiful. But I was a little confused about what her disability was. She referred to it every once in a while and I knew it had something to do with her feet because of her blog name…but there wasn’t a statement about it anywhere on her sidebar or in her profile at that time. She just blogged like me. She talked about her kids and her days and she ended every post with “Swept Up” – a brief account of something that was inspiring her at that moment.

Eventually, she wrote something that clarified the vague allusions for me. She explained that she had been in a horrific car crash that killed her friend and burned her to the point that she lost both of her lower legs. And I knew nothing about that until long after I felt I could call her a friend.

Heidi has been writing her story in a novel and she’s posting pieces of it on her blog (which now includes a bit more detail on exactly what that story is – thanks to her husband and head cheerleader who is helping her navigate the world of social media). You hear about people spending months recovering in the hospital – but it takes a truly gifted writer to transport you there. To take you understand the struggle, the pain and the temptation to just give up.

Heidi is a truly gifted writer. And while, yes – her story of recovery is inspiring, it’s really her talent inspires me. Her talent and her choice to dream big. To make things happen. She chose the life she has. She made it happen. And she continues to dream for more. I look forward to seeing her make that happen too.

I don’t only read about people who survive flaming crash sites though…

(Yes – that is a recent picture of her and MONDO! Jealous? I am.)

Amy is another blogger that I started reading early on. In fact – I think she may have been my first commenter (besides Mom of course). She immediately charmed me with her ability to make everything seem just a little more fun. Or real. Or both. She could write a poem about her son’s sock and a novel about a fleeting glance. She is by far one of the most innately creative people I have ever encountered.

Amy strikes me as someone who would be a very good muse. This is a bit ironic since she is the one looking at the world through an artist’s eyes… But she makes you want to do the same. She makes you want to create something. Mommy bloggers leave her posts wanting to write about pirates or paint wildflowers or perhaps burn a bra or something. She makes you want to embrace life with wild abandon and then give it the finger for good measure.

She inspires me to be more creative in my everyday life. To look at the world through an artist’s eyes and to raise my children to do the same. She inspires me to be bold.

While I’m trying to be a little less reserved in life – I could also learn to take myself just a little less seriously. Oh – I do try…but it is so genetically embedded into my core personality, that role models are often necessary.

So who better to take my Number Four spot on this list than someone who reminds me to laugh at myself and just lighten up already?

Jessica is really, really funny. I mean really. But that isn’t what makes me such a fan of hers. She didn’t win my admiration with her comedic timing, she did it with her honesty.

On the surface, she’s writing humorous stories (or posting vlogs) about dating failures, family dysfunction and single parenting challenges – but take the jokes away, and there is still substance. There’s a real person behind the funny.

It seems like so many funny people hide behind their sense of humor – take away the laughs and all you find is a stranger. Jessica isn’t like that.

I’ve often thought that her blogging is very brave. She isn’t afraid to laugh at herself. Herself – meaning who she is in everyday life. Not a fabricated caricature of herself, carefully constructed for the audience. Her stories don’t sound contrived. They sound like things that could happen to you or your best friend. The way she tells her stories is what makes them funny and the fact that we can relate to them makes her more than just a humor blogger. She seems like a real friend. One who isn’t afraid to have a laugh at her own expense.

And to then laugh at you. Because you deserve it. At least I do. I need to laugh at myself more…far more often than I currently do. Jessica inspires me to lighten up and see humor in my daily trials. To not take myself so goddamn seriously!

FINALLY – Number Five is going to seem really random and out of sync with this girl power line up I’ve got going here…

How on earth could two fabulous NYC gay guys with their finger on the pulse of the fashion world have any relevance to a suburban SAHM like?

Yeah – even I think it’s a stretch. But HEY the assignment was to write about “five fabulous bloggers.” And this duo has enough “fabulous” to last them three lifetimes AND provide leftovers to donate to style-challenged celebrities until the red carpet is thoroughly threadbare.

But, you ask, what about my theme about being inspired by the blogs I read and the people who write them? Well isn’t that obvious? I’m a suburban SAHM. I could use a little fabulous in my life!

Life is serious and gritty and full of hard decisions. It can wear you down and make your fashion choices seem beyond frivolous. Seriously – the only red carpet I ever encounter involves an exploding juice box.

And for some people that’s fine. They really don’t care.

But I kind of do.

I love clothes and the idea of developing a sense of personal style. One of the biggest things that I miss about working is the opportunity to dress up for something. There isn’t much incentive for that in my life right now. But these two make me want to try a little. Put on some lipstick. Consider a new signature color. Throw on some statement jewelry for a walk to the playground.

They inspire me to take a break from the daily grind and indulge myself a little. It’s fun. And it adds some balance.

So that’s it – five fabulous blogs. Some may be known to you and others may be new. But I highly recommend all of them for inspiration. To find magic in the life you have and to dream for more. To live it with passion and to have some good belly laughs at your own expense. To allow yourself a little frivolity – just to take the edge off.

I’ll never be just like any single one of these people – because I can’t be anyone but myself. But they inspire me to be more. To want more. Because I deserve it. I think we all do.

Don’t forget to enter the 50 Fabulous Wishes contest for a chance to win $1,000 to support a friend’s wish. I was selected for this Tropicana Trop50 sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity, as I do. I received compensation to use and facilitate my post.

Last Stop, Shady Grove

*TWO updates at the end.

So I just received a referral from Oliver’s neurologist for an MRI. It’s nothing immediately serious – just one more step in the never ending dance of finding out what’s going on with that weird little booger.

We started seeing the neurologist a few years ago, and I often feel like our twice a year appointments are more for her benefit than for his. Of course, I know that’s not true – it’s just the nature of the process. She monitors him, has various tests done and keeps track of his development. Which by the way, is extraordinary as far as I’m concerned. Nonetheless, he still has language and social delays, so we continue the regular annual tea parties with his various doctors and specialists.

At our last visit, the neurologist said that we should do an MRI to check the language centers of his brain. And I just received the paperwork in the mail today. This is somewhat of a coincidence since I myself just had an MRI this morning.

Right before Christmas, I noticed a weird little lump right above my c-section scar. Assuming it was a cyst of some kind, I made an appointment with my gynecologist to have it checked. While pregnant with the twins, I developed a cyst in a “none of your business” kind of place, and grew a few more for good measure after the birth. While totally gross, it wasn’t at all dangerous and it was easily fixed (a bit of TMI that I’ll refrain from inflicting upon you). So all in all, I wasn’t in the least bit concerned.

Since the lump was so close the surface, my doctor was able to determine whether it was a cyst or not with a needle. Yeah – that was fun…and after a few mildly uncomfortable jabbings she said that no, it wasn’t a cyst and that I had “just won myself a trip to radiology for a sonogram.” Awesome! I never win anything.

Funny enough, I’ve had sonograms done on several other body parts – not just pregnancy-related. There was the suspicious spot in one of my mammogram images (turned out to be nothing) and the super fun experience of having my leg veins checked (“Yes – you will someday have ropey veins all over your legs if you don’t have a procedure done, but insurance doesn’t pay for that. Just check back in with us when it becomes life threatening.” Good times.) So it was old hat for me. And after hours of time in the waiting room and on the table and cramping hunger pains due to an ungodly number of obligatory fasting hours, the tech finally came back into the examination room to say, “yup – we have no idea what that is.” Next stop: an MRI.

At least this one only required four hours of fasting.

And other than the IV required for some dye-related thing they did at the end, there wasn’t any discomfort involved. In fact, I was kind of looking forward to my time in the tube, as it sounded like a great opportunity to take a 40 minute nap.

Okay – so anyone who has ever had an MRI is laughing right now because it’s not at all like the cozy tanning bed scenario of my Grey’s Anatomy influenced imagination. It’s not that it was physically uncomfortable – but it was LOUD.

And I thought things were off to such a good start when I was changing into my robe and overheard a very “Seattle Grace surgical staff” exchange outside my door. Someone passing by said to the tech waiting for me, “pony tail today? Rough sex this morning?” I’m not kidding! Seriously – Mer and Cristina, you have one track minds – go dance it out or something. But I digress…

Back to the mundane business of medical stuff, the earplugs I was given helped – but muffling aside, it sounded like I was directly under a construction site. And it wasn’t the noise as much as the erratic nature of it that kept me from immediately slipping into a “mother of three small children – did somebody say nap?” coma. There would be 30 seconds of microwave noises – then silence – then a sonic boom – then machine gun noises – then nothing – then the technician’s voice over an intercom telling me to breath in or out or not at all.

So in addition to the auditory assault, I actually had to pay attention to directions. NOT relaxing.

But it was somewhat diverting in that the technician’s disembodied voice sounded exactly like the conductor announcements I heard every day during my DC metro-rail riding years: “Please clear the doors…Due to red line construction…last stop Shady Grove.” It was enough to make me fall asleep and miss my stop.

Which I eventually did.

The noise became more regular, the directions to stop my heartbeat for five minutes at a time ceased, and I unwittingly drifted off for the rest of the MRI.

Waking up in my cotton robe with a light blanket over my legs, I almost felt like I was in a spa after an hour long massage. Except that there were wires everywhere. And I hate getting massages. Perhaps a facial? Didn’t smell good enough… Either way, I was ready for another nap.

This is why I rarely take naps. Napping is supposed to provide you with much needed rest and rejuvenation. It’s supposed to give you more energy and enthusiasm for plowing through the rest of the day. Napping generally gives me more energy and enthusiasm for going back to sleep and never waking up again.

So as much as I was hoping for a good MRI nap – it was just like hoping for the offer of a free Blizzard at Dairy Queen. It sounds really good – worthy of craving even. But after the fact, you usually decide that it probably wasn’t a good idea.

Naps aside – the MRI is over and I now have a good handle on why Oliver will need to be sedated. Forty minutes of staying still in a noisy, fluorescent lit tube? Yeah – I don’t think he’d be cool with that.

I won’t get my results back for a few days. And to be honest, I probably won’t give it too much thought. I’m good at that – not thinking. There is no point in wasting the meantime with anxious worrying. I’d rather just ride it out. Read a book. Daydream about more pleasant things. Take an inadvisable nap.

In any given lifetime, the various destinations are usually unknowable and frequently inevitable. The meantime matters more. And at the moment, mine is fairly booked up with the day to day care of my children. From fishing stickers out of the toilet with trouble making twins to scheduling MRI appointments for exceptionally weird and wonderful five year olds, I’ve got far more interesting things to do than worry about things I can’t control.

But when I do reach my stop, I promise to be in touch as soon as my feet touch the platform. Hopefully I’ll have a clue as to where to find the right exit…thank god for GPS.

*Just heard from my doctor’s office. Still no idea what it is. So IT is now considered a “suspicious mass.” Tomorrow, I’ll receive a list of general surgeons to call so someone can cut this sucker out to analyze. I’m assuming it’s nothing. Please do the same. I totally believe in the good vibes, you know. Until next week…

**I can’t believe I forgot about this crazy scrap of conversation I heard outside of the changing room before the MRI. I added it above.

Giving it my .01% – or – 2010: The (Blog) Year in Review

I should have done this a few weeks ago… But better late than never.

2010 was an eventful year for The Big Piece of Cake:

I decided that it’s actually okay now to look like “somebody’s mother.”

I found a nursery CD that brought back some of the best and worst days of my life.

We (barely) survived snow prison.

I considered some pearls of wisdom and compared them to the ones I hold in my heart.

I stopped picking my kids’ noses (well – for the most part).

My oldest “baby” turned FIVE.

My oldest baby continues to turn my world upside down (and inside out and backwards).

I paused again and again to ask who/what/where/why and ended up looking to my baby ballerina who doesn’t wear pants for guidance.


Chris almost died and I had many laughs at his expense.

I died of happiness when my son tortured the neighbor’s cat.

I admitted that I’m not fun.

I could have lost Oliver and nothing about it was funny.

My children almost killed me over the summer and EVERYTHING about it was funny.

I admitted to serious disappointment and envy – but committed to keep trying.

I demanded that people not treat my special needs son like something that needs to be fixed.

There was a super hot lifeguard at the pool. And it made me think (no – not THOSE kind of thoughts!)

For the first time ever, I sent THREE children off to school.





The most disgusting thing ever happened in my house (or my vacuum cleaner to be exact).

George continued to be weird (and demanding).


Eleanor claimed that her name begins with L (among other things).

Oliver continued to “wear the pants” by not wearing them.

George became addicted to Weed.


AND for the first time ever – I finally got a decent picture of my children in front of our Christmas tree and actually mailed a holiday card.

I don’t write about everything on my blog. Sometimes I leave out important things because they’re private and sometimes I over-share. Sometimes I write super long posts that no one reads (even though they’re brilliant – and WHO loses out on that one I ask you?) and sometimes I post stupid pictures that everyone loves. Sometimes I think I have nothing to say, but somehow surprise myself. And sometimes I have ideas, but never follow up on them.

My blog is about .01% of my life – but I like to think it’s the best, worst and most honest .01%. It’s a scrap of my life – but one with some interesting detail. One with some character in the texture and color. One that might be useful, and definitely worth stuffing in a pocket just in case.

Thanks for reading my .01% I like the idea that I might be in your pocket. At the very least, I’m good for wiping tears and snot. Just ask my kids.