The time that my sweet non-drinking girlfriends mistakenly ordered beer at my daughter's birthday party

Last Friday I took five little girls to Pizzeria 712 for a birthday party. I also invited a few friends along. That proved to be the best decision of the year because two of my super sweet friends who do not drink beverages of the alcoholic persuasion ordered beer... accidentally.

The drinks came. The drinks were sipped. The mouths puckered. The eyes squinted at the label that said "70% beer" and I peed a little as I watched them both drain their bottles in to the plants behind them so that the waiter didn't think they were completely stupid.

 

 Just in case you were wondering, the beauty with the smoking red hot lips here on the right had a baby a mere three weeks ago and looks like a million bucks.

I love that I have girlfriends and sisters who show up on the days I need them most. I didn't know it until about an hour before that party, but I needed those women around that day. It was the morning that I found out that my cancer had spread to my colon. The day I had a meltdown at work. The day I finally broke for just a few minutes since my first diagnosis. The day I admitted I was scared. The day I decided that specific brand of beer was icky.

It was my daughter's birthday party. But, I was the one who really needed the party! I am incredibly lucky to have sisters that I love and that I love to spend time with. And friends make me laugh and let me cry and that show up and make the party. 

P.S. The eleven year old girls also love it when Aunt Mel comes because she has hot legs and guys like to flirt with her. Apparently that was the highlight of the party for the tweeners. Hear that Mel... hot legs!

No Candyasses in this circle.

The No Talk List: Got The Boogers Out

Sam is three. He is a mess. His face is always dirty and probably permanently stained. His fingernails have unknown matter under them. I will clean them and it will reappear immediately. He has strawberry blond hair that sticks straight up all over his head making it look much bigger than it really is. And, it's already big. See... 

I frequently quote So I Married an Axe Murderer right at him. "Look at your head, it's like an orange on a toothpick. Got its own weather system, it does." I hope he grows in to his head someday. For now, I love how fuzzy his hair is and how he still lets me kiss him all over it. I know those days are not going to last much longer.

The other day he snuck up behind me while I was working and said (with all the pride a 3 year old can muster) "Mom, I brushed my teef, and my hairs on my head, and got all my boogers out."

We're not allowed to talk about it in front of him anymore. It makes him scream like a girl and threaten to bite and pinch. For now it can go on the no talk list with the Fluffernutter sex sandwich.  You know what though? I'd totally buy tissues from a company that showed a kid getting the boogers out and putting them in to the tissue. My niece wipes them on the wall. I've witnessed it and it makes me gag. Gagging is never good for a girl on chemo. It is always followed by dry heaving or vomit. Ohhh that would scare the little shizzle right out of her. Could it get her to use a tissue though?

(The word gagging kind of makes me gag too.)

Speaking of gagging...

We have dinner at my parents house with all of my local siblings and their kids every Sunday. I love it. It's one of the best parts of the week. Except for one part. My grandma. My dad's mom is the most unhappy, unkind, unfriendly, old crab EVER.

Little kids have crappy grandma radar. There is an invisible forcefield that won't let them within five feet of her. We've tried to tell her that kids generally don't like to be told they are fat, mean, or ugly. But, she contests that, as the matriarch of the family, it's her right to tell them those things. All I can say to her is that karma is a bitch. And, she's been storing that bad karma away for a long time.

A couple of weeks ago at our weekly family dinner she got the payback of a lifetime when she stood up from the dinner table and let out a series of noises (gag now) with their own special brand (fragrance) that now have the kids calling her "Machine Gun Granny". They have to call eachother every few days to talk about the fart that put all other farts to shame. The fart that had the power to make the house shake as those kids erupted. This is a giggly bunch of monsters. But, these were belly laughs. And, the biggest laugh of all was my dad. He has selective hearing when it comes to her. There was no escaping the rat-a-tat-tat though.

Farts and boogers are gross, but anything that makes kids light up and laugh together like that is ok with me.

If you're a Candyass about saying FART (I know plenty of people who are, but are ok with the other 4 letter F word... go figure) you can say it with a British accent and it doesn't sound so bad.

And, I'm off. Peace out.