Sparkler Breast

You know how it is when you're driving in your car and your breast starts feeling like a sparkler is going off inside it? It's not as romantic a feeling as you might imagine. In fact, the pain is so exquisite that you wish you could stop and bang your head against the road just to take your mind off things a bit. Or maybe while you're down there someone will run you over and make things more interesting. Character building. Hellatastic.

Sparkler Breast (aka plugged milk duct) is almost as fun as sleeping in two hour cycles for over a year or a week of excruciating headaches. I didn't experience this with the first two kids, but with little Marshall it is a regular occurrence.

It is also true that Sparkler Breast will ignite when you're trying to get your kids to pick out a birthday gift for their buddy. Or when you don't drink enough water or when it damn well feels like it for no apparent reason at all. But especially in public because when Sparkler Breast strikes your first reaction will be to grab your breast and twist and turn and try to expel the dreaded fire. Kind of like Aunt Ada when she's speaking in tongues. And surely not the best choice in the children's toy section.

Sparkler Breast? Oh Sparkler Breast. The only way out is through.

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

Because it's like a week away people. And it's cold. And there is snow about 500 feet above my house. No lie. I saw it driving home this afternoon.

And because today was the annual Christmas Party at my husband's office. The hit toy of the evening was this wind-up Penguin that shoots candy out of its ass.

But for me, it just isn't Christmas without the Aluminum Tree. For the first four years of my life, that's the kind of tree we had and frankly, I loved it. The color wheel is why and because Aluminum is the substance most suited to conveying the magic of Christmas. I say that with complete sincerity.

Burning Bridges

I've burned many a bridge in my brief but exciting life, but never did I expect that one day I would blow it all at our local grocery store. We just needed to pick up a couple of things - yogurt tubes, bread, and eggs. A quick in and out even with three kids in tow, right? My god, we were there for about an hour and everyone in the store came to know us by the loud, piercing screams that emanated from the dairy section where we were lodged in a death dance while Olivia tried to decide whether she wanted blueberry or orange cream yogurt. "There's too many choices!" she screamed.