Last week when I picked up Caitlin at daycare I was greeted not with the usual joyful, open armed “Mommeeeeeeee!!!,” but with a swift command… “Mommy I want to get my ears pierced!”

Has someone been brainwashing my child at nap time with visions of sleepovers and pierced ears? These are apparently the rites of passage for Caitlin’s friends as they turn 5.

Neither the hubby or I really approve of her having her ears pierced until she’s older. I think I was 12 or 13 when my mother finally let me get my ears pierced. Obviously it was such a pivotal moment of my youth that I can’t even recall when I went to the mall with my older sister and did the deed right then and there in the corner of Claire’s amongst a thousand baubles and trinkets.

I’m hoping that this whim quickly passes much as the Bon Jovi, sleepover requests have. Because the one personality quirk of her mama’s that I hope she’s inherited in this instance is my flightiness.

All kidding aside, I found some really cute magnetic earrings, designed for little girls 5 and up, at a local toy and gift shop and I’m thinking of getting her a pair to put with her birthday loot in June. Anyone tried them? Bueller? Bueller?

It’s been a while since I did a Thankful Thursday post, started way back when by Nashville blogger Shauna, but considering I survived boob scare 2007 with a clean bill of health, I think I need to count my blessings, stat!

I’m thankful for…

my health

Easter egg hunts and twirly new dresses

freelance writing projects

a new baby in the family

open windows, ceiling fans, frogs chirping at twilight, and daffodils

the way Caitlin says “bacoon” instead of cocoon

reading the Velveteen Rabbit and Angelina Ballerina at bedtime

packing up the girls’ fleece footed pjs until next winter

finding girly girl Care Bears and Disney Princess Easter basket goodies at CVS

this adorable book Amelia received from my sister in Massachusetts for her birthday

a fab place to unleash my celebrity gossip obsession

and did I mention my healthy boobs?!

Quite frankly, everyone I know should be thankful I’m not flashing my purple/yellow/green bruised Frankenboob at them. My husband is sooooo lucky. He gets to see it EVERY DAY.

Dear Neighborhood Wal-Hell:

Against my better judgment I decided to take my girls, both under age 5 and under the influence of no nap, to your lovely store Sunday. The Wal-Hell near my office is much nicer, but this location is closer. Entering this particular store is always a little nerve wracking and I’m surprised there aren’t bars on the windows. Wait a minute, there are no windows.

I had a birthday present to exchange, we were fresh out of diapers, and there was nothing to eat for dinner except for canned albacore tuna and some questionably old vegetable soup in the freezer. I tossed a cereal bar and some Smarties in my purse and we were good to go.

I knew it was going to be an interesting adventure when Caitlin whooped her “Mommy I have to GO POTTTTEEEEE” war cry about ten minutes into our shopping trip. However, I was most appreciative of the free Pringles samples awaiting us at the end of aisle 10 since Caitlin didn’t want to eat hers and handed them to me. And the supernatural speedy experience in customer service was a bonus! I could have taken my ten dollar bill and change and run for the hills, or the new super Tarjay right up the road, but I didn’t want to drag the girls back out to the car.

I’m sorry about the bottle of water Amelia poured on the floor in the children’s clothing department but I had to break open the marked-down St. Patrick’s Day cookies and she was thirsty. Apparently she only needed two sips of water, though, since she poured the rest of it out.

I’m not sorry, however, that the girls and I ended up trying on the oversized gag leprechaun hats from the St. Patrick’s Day display and danced like village idiots in the checkout line, much to the amusement of everyone in the store, because after waiting a good 20 minutes in the world’s slowest freaking checkout lane, frankly I wanted a real life leprechaun and a mug of Irish ale to keep me pacified. And maybe a rainbow with a pot of gold at the end of it. Or maybe just a Wal-Hell gift card since we’ll be out of diapers again soon as my 2-year-old has squeezed two droplets of pee in her baby potty since December and would apparently rather pee in her diaper and have mama wipe her butt.

Any way, I was indeed impressed that I spent just a little over a hundred dollars and came home with bags and bags of Wal-Hell goodness. And I didn’t even use any coupons.

Love, A Suburban Mother Who Loves to Live on the Edge

p.s. I did appreciate the slower than dirt clerk marking down all my ground chuck packages when only two were discounted. And she was very sweet, even though Amelia was going bonkers and I let her dismantle play with all the blinking Disney ink pens in the impulse purchase section near the cash register. So in a nutshell…cheap meat and cheap diapers. That’s enough to keep me occasionally coming back to Wal-Hell. Well, that and the cute George brand children’s clothing.

Speaking of Wal-Hell, I just read a hilarious post by Here in Idaho about “the greatest show on Earth.”

Our new nephew, Connor, arrived Wednesday!
Isn’t he a cutie? The cheeks…oh my Lord…THE CHEEKS!

Caitlin was so excited about meeting her new cousin. She helped me give him a little bit of a bottle. Amelia said “Connor” and “Baby” and jumped and climbed on every surface in the hospital room.

I have to say the mama hormones kicked in while I was holding him and I had to repeat, “No more babies, no more babies, no more babies.” But they sure are wonderful to hold.

I’ve been dealing with an ongoing saga of the right breast since the first of the year. Thankfully all is well but my right boob has been poked, prodded, photographed, and felt up more times than I care to recall.

My pathology report says NEGATIVE FOR INVASIVE CARCINOMA. I may have it matted and framed.

I am a healthy 37-year-old woman with no history of breast cancer in my family. I take my health for granted.

The moral of the story is if you feel any type of abnormality in your breast, go get it checked immediately. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Do monthly breast self exams. Even if you do not have a history of family breast cancer, even if you are very healthy, even if you want to blow it off as nothing because you have dense breasts or a history of fibrocystic disease, like me, it could be something and the sooner it is detected the better.

Around the first of December I felt a pea-size lump next to an existing “innocent” fibrocystic mass I’ve had for years in my right breast. I wasn’t concerned since it was small and since that breast is my “lumpy” one. I kept putting off my annual OBGYN appointment due to the holidays. I finally went in the first of January. My doctor also felt the questionable lump. He told me that it might not be anything but that it might be something cancerous and that I should go see a breast surgeon he recommended right away. Fear starts to set in.

(Read on …)

We took the girls for a spring nature walk at the park Monday and then capped off Amelia’s official birthday with dinner at a local sports bar type place with live music, a great kids menu, and patio windows open to the 70 plus degree day. Somehow we have started a tradition of taking the girls to a neighborhood sports bar for their birthdays. This is probably because besides McDonalds and a half a dozen Mexican restaurants, there is no other type restaurant in our neighborhood. Well, that and the fact that you can’t beat their cheeseburgers.

After Amelia baptized herself in honey mustard sauce, I took the girls to the bathroom to clean up sticky hands and faces. I decided I looked extra frumpy when I checked out my reflection in the large bathroom mirror. I tucked my t-shirt into my capri jeans and my hair back behind my ears.

Caitlin was watching me all the while and looked at me and said, “Mommy, you look beautiful. You look just like a princess.”

I looked in the mirror again at my straight-from-the park outfit: tennis shoes, white ankle socks, capri jeans, and a Lands End baby blue cotton t-shirt that has been around the block a few times. Not your typical princess attire.

Any time I need a little boost of self-esteem, I just watch Caitlin’s eyes fill with sincerity as she touches my face and tells me I’m beautiful. And besides, who says her ideal princess can’t be 37 years old and wear jeans and tennis shoes?

The hubby shared this news story with me, prefaced by, “you so need to blog this.”

Our hometown is in a national competition to become one of 16 cities named Springfield to vie for the chance to host the hometown opening of The Simpsons movie in July.

But that’s not what’s really got me excited about this whole breaking news story. The crowning glory is the fact that the once gravel road I grew up on, Homer Worsham Road, (cue the dueling banjos melody), the road I drove my 1986 Chrysler Laser on like a bat out of hell to town and back during my senior year of high school, may be renamed Homer Simpson Road for the day.

Now that is something to be proud of.

Too bad we don’t have a son or I’d be tempted to name him Homer for the day.

D’oh!