There's something growing in my breast.  There's no need to worry because it is 99.9% NOT I repeat NOT cancer.  but what if it is...  It's firm and big and migrating around on the side of my right breast.  These are the same breasts that were a source of food for my little one just a few weeks back.  At first, I thought maybe it was just the milk drying up.  but what if it is something else... So I did the worst possible thing ever-I looked online.  Do a google search for painful breast lump three weeks after breastfeeding and you get the story of a similar woman whose lump ended up being cancerous.  and what if mine is too... So I called the doctor.

I've called the doctor a million times and the receptionist checks your insurance information, inquires about the reason for your visit and merrily sets about scheduling your appointment.  But when I tell her that I need to see the doctor about a painful breast lump, she gets quiet and immediately puts me on hold.  Ironically-or perhaps not-Corey Hart's Never Surrender song is playing, "Just a little more time is all I'm asking for."  I hope this isn't some kind of sign.  I'm set up for an appointment the next morning. 

Wake up and I'm pretty sure the lump is gone.  Maybe it was some kind of clogged milk duct.  I'm relieved but keep the appointment nonetheless.  When I go in, I tell the doctor that I don't really feel it anymore-and she nods as if this happens all the time.  what if I'm acting like a paranoid idiot?  But when it's time to do the exam, she finds it hiding out just under the breast.  She notes that it's big and doesn't feel like Cancer.  It may be a cyst.  The whole thing measures in at 4x5 cm.  I think that's big but can't be sure.  It's probably a good thing she didn't measure it in millimeters or I'd really be scared.  I tell myself that-of course it's a cyst-if it's Cancer I'm surely f#$%# cause it's not a little pea size.  but what if it's been hiding all along and that's why I never made enough milk....

I could keep going with the what if's and soon I'd end up in a pretty dark place.  But that is silly because of course my brain knows that it's more than probably not CANCER.  It's too big, it's growing too fast and it's painful.  but what if.... I go in next week for my first mammogram and ultrasound.  And then I will be able to quiet that little tiny what if... voice inside of me.  Either it is or it is not.  And all the what if's in the world won't change that.  Mark Twain said, "I am an old man and have known a great many troubles, but most of them never happened"  And that it what I'm going to remind myself of-until I know if it is or is not.

I'm not talking about boobies from outerspace-although I notice a heavy alien theme has taken over this website since I've been away.  (That and a uber hot female/hooker who thinks we will get along fabulously.  You know because she probably messaged you too.

I'm also not talking about the politician boobies who can't seem to keep it in their pants-although it might make for an interesting blog as well.  

No, I'm back to talking about breastfeeding the biscuit.  One year has been my goal-and I'm close to achieving it.  I survived the appearance of six sharp teeth-and three week period of time where Chedda found biting my nipple to be HIL-A-RIOUS.  Seriously, he'd look at me and giggle sinisterly while making chomping motions at my nips.  I was a little concerned that I might be raising some type of Hannibal Lector baby.

Once he learned that those little fingers belonged to him, we were faced with a new dilemna.  Chedda would suck a little bit-and then leaning back, smile and use his finger to push my nipple in as far as it would go.  Sometimes he'd take his little chubby baby hands and just flick it to see what would happen.  I'd try to admonish him-but then he'd do it again and wiggle his eyebrows at me.  I'd immediately lose all parental authority and begin giggling-which of course made him more determined to do it.

Over the last few months, Chedda has become adept at crawling, sitting up and standing up.  So now I've become a jungle gym with milk ducts.  A typical feeding session starts with a calm baby pulling a good 3-4 sips.  Then he sits up and tries to get to the other boob.  If he had his way, he would alternate between boobs (perhaps one is chocolate-the other regular?) He'd also spend his feeding time sticking his hand in my mouth or up my nose, standing up, sitting up and then flipping himself upside down.  In between these gymnastic moves, he'd stop by for a quick sip from the left or right boobie tap.  I should probably just call Cirque du Soleil now.  

The other day, he came in for a drink, took a long pull, and threw his head back with a hearty baby, "YEEEEEEEAAAAH!"  No lie.  

Have you ever thought about breaking up with a friend?  I've had friendships which have served a purpose at a specific time in my life-and when that time was over-we simply lost contact.  I've had one particularly toxic friendship with an alcoholic which ended similarly-but am haunted by because I never got closure with that relationship.  I still dream about my friend even though I am confident that I made the correct decision-albeit handled it incorrectly.

I had my first child last September-and I expected some of my friendships-especially with my single friends to change.  I've made it a point to try to limit my baby conversations with these friends instead focusing on jobs, tv, etc.  I say limit but I'm sure I still bore them to tears with baby poo stories...

And although we can prepare ourselves for the friendships that change-we can't predict which ones will change for the better or worse.  Which is where I find myself today-upset and saddened by one of my oldest and best friend's (we were maid of honors at each other's weddings) reaction to my new baby.  

By reaction I mean no reaction.  No phone call right after the fact, no email, no card in the mail.  Nothing, nada.  I know that not everyone is into babies-but really?  No phone call for your former maid of honor?!?  I finally sent an email (lame, I know but I lost her phone number when I changed phones) and got a lovely apology back in December.  And a invitation to lunch which I accepted and then was stood up for.  

After writing this down, I feel a little bit like a poster child for "She's just not that into you."  But I need to let you know a little back story-this is a friend who has had several miscarriages before recently ending her marriage.  I know she is in a different spot in her life than I am-and I wonder if it's painful/hard for her to see me and my little one?

But it bother's me almost daily that there has been no attempt to see me-or talk to me beyond sending me fuzzy teddy bears on Facebook.  I've met many new friends through this website-but we're still new friends-and I miss the ability to sit with one of my oldest friends and discuss things.  Is it unreasonable to expect a friend-a good friend not so long ago to make an effort when a new baby is born (or before the baby is 8 months old?) or am I being a crazed parent?  

Yesterday, I shared a hot tub with a woman who was sitting on her partner's lap.  Now if I was in Cancun or Jamaica, I probably wouldn't even bat an eye at this.  Hot tubs are romantic, I get it.  But I also think there is a proper place/time for hot tub shenanigans.  And really, I don't know that Lifetime fitness over the lunch hour-or any hour for that matter is the answer.

This isn't the first time I've seen an amorous couple in the waters of the gym. I've seen couples nuzzling/kissing in the hot tub and even a few making out in the zero entry kiddie pool while I was trying to do pool therapy with an autistic child.  I've heard stories from other staff about what goes on late into the night in the hot tub-I think you can guess what I mean.  

Something about the water just makes people more romantic.  I've never seen any couples making out in front of the weight machines-or sharing a stepper.  I doubt that the kissing offender would consider sitting on her lover's lap while he was on the stationary bike.  

So when I saw the couple cuddling in the hot tub next to me-and who really knows what was going on under all those bubbles I wasn't sure how to react. The preferred option from the geriatric set was to avert eye contact.   I tried to stink eye for a bit-but they were too busy gazing into each other's eyes to notice.  I thought about getting a little too close-or staring in a lewd type of way-but figured they wouldn't notice that either.  I wished there was some type of no make-out lifeguard enforcer around.  

I thought about more passive aggressive ways to get back at the PDA couple. For instance, I could pee in the pool.  It's not really fair to the other pool goers-but if it were just me and the couple....What about you?  What would you do in this situation?

In the busy world of new motherhood, I found Facebook's one line status updates irresistible.  After all, who doesn't have time to write a quick line in between changing diapers, working and reading to the little one.  Still there are days that I long for the comfortable expanse of a paragraph.  There are many times when I can't express myself thoroughly with 140 characters.  So I've come back to chat with whoever is left.

A lot has happened in the last month. 

I've been involved in a not-so-secret love affair.  Baby Chedda continues to amaze me with his ability to capture your attention with a single smile and how easily and quickly he is changing and developing new skills.  

Baby Ched has the enviable talent of always knowing when I will be putting any bite of food into my mouth.  Just as I'm sitting down for dinner that he becomes upset and needs to eat.  I could feed him one minute before sitting down and still he would know that I was trying to put a bite of food into my mouth and begin to fuss.  

Finally, in a desperate attempt for sustenance, (if you've seen my derriere lately, you should be laughing at the preceding statement.)  I decided to use the ultimate weapon.  

I positioned baby in front of his favorite thing-the television.  Then I dished up a plate and sat down.  I'm aware of the no t.v. before 2 and even support the general idea of it.  However, I'm also a big supporter of eating your food while it's hot and using utensils while doing it.  So when my baby's brain is fried at the age of 3, and my butt is wider than the Grand Canyon-at least I can reflect back on this clash of values and realize that I've onvce again placed food at the top of the list.

With the opening credits of Quantum of Solace flashing on the screen I put the first bite of oozy, gooey cheesy chipotle enchilada in my mouth.  Mmmmmm.  Then I opened my eyes and saw Chedda had figured out how to look behind him.  He flashed me a grin bigger than Tom Cruise's  before beginning to fuss.  

Of course this just endeared him to me more-in spite of the fact that I had to enjoy my enchilada's while balancing a grabby six month old on one knee. Even I realize that I will likely NEVER be more important than the television again.