9 advantages to having a preventative mastectomy

I have to admit, my doctor has been asking me for years to please consider the BRCA1 mutant gene testing. You know,  the test Angelina Jolie took to find out she was at high risk for breast and ovarian cancer which led to her preventive mastectomy.

I have given him every excuse why I should not to do it and as a compromise I agreed to go to the "booby doctor" every six months for a check. But of course, between the potty training, sleepless nights, and just trying to survive as a mom thousands of miles away from my family, I have neglected to go every six months. And, matter of fact, after getting stuck in the Mammography machine last time, I have even avoided the yearly breast squeeze this year.

Terrible. Irresponsible. Selfish. Yes, I know. Plus, I have two small kids, why would I be so stupid?

To be honest, like everything else that has anything to do with ME, it’s always on the back burner. So when Angie came out that she got rid of her girls and got a newer and safer model, I decided to really think about making the appointment.

But what was holding me back? I think my biggest reason for avoiding the test is the what "if's".  I forced myself to face the issue: What action would I take if the test was positive? Well, I would do whatever it would take to make sure my babies have a mama to raise them.

To help psyche myself up, I came up with 9 advantages if I am a mutant and decide to follow in Angelina's footsteps and get the preventative chop-chop!

1. A new rack - After two kids and breastfeeding for what felt like 10 years, the girls have decided to migrate south. And when they aren't south around my knees, at night they travel so far east and west I can hardly sleep. So a new rack would be awesome! I could pick my size, they would always be perky!  Of course, I would miss Trusty and Lucy, but at least I would be healthy.

2. No more bra's -Along with a new rack comes no more over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders! I could wear backless shirts and enter wet T-shirt contests during Spring Break! And get on Girls Gone Wild!!

3. Run Baywatch Babe, Run- I could run up and down the beach Baywatch style and not worry about getting a black eye.

4. No more Mammograms - This is probably not true, but how would they squish my new plastic triple D's in that horrible machine. They would burst right? Anyway, a girl who has actually had a boob stuck in pancake mode during a mammography can dream!

5. No more feeling myself up- This is also probably wishful thinking. But I love the thought of not having to worry to remember to check myself. I’m the mama who forgets to brush her hair most days and my kids names on a good day.

6. No more sore breasts - I know the surgery would be hell and the reconstruction even worse but once I’m healed that’s hopefully it. No more monthly soreness. Shit! Would have to think of new excuse to keep Baby Daddy off!

7. Bikini top for humans - I will be able to finally wear a bikini top that doesn’t have enough metal to build a life-size robot. Plus, I could wear tops in normal shapes like little triangles instead of an oversized watermelon.

8. I will be in control – For the first time since my bosom blossomed and the fear of me of inheriting the breast cancer that took my great grandmother, has attacked my grandmother several times, has threatened my cousin who fought and won and my aunt who is on her way to winning now was instilled in me, I will be able to control my fear of that dreaded diagnosis. Of course there would still be a small chance, but the relief of not ever knowing would be gone.

9. I will be around for my kids - This is the most important. Even if I’m not able to get a pair of “new girls” and reap these benefits, I would do anything for my kids. People often say they would give their right arm for this or that. Well I would give my right breast or left or both for my kids. Besides, who would embarrass them the way I would running across the playground Baywatch style in my triangle top string bikini to pick them up after school.

Ok, I’m making the call now.

Baby Daddy finally gets it!

For five years, Baby Daddy has been coming home from work or wherever to share his life changing conversations about parenting he has had with other parents. And every time, he comes home with this "brilliant" advice from these way-better-parents-than -we-are highlighting how much we have failed with our own offspring. Each time, I count to 10, breath deeply and patiently listen.

Then I respond in my very annoyed, somewhat defensive voice, "But honey, every child is different and it's just a phase."

You see, as women are more perceptive than men, I learned this awful truth some time ago and have been free ever since. The only problem was I could never convince Baby Daddy that these people were full of shit and their kids would probably end up in Juevy by age nine.

Now don't get me wrong, our kids are far from perfect. My son has inherited his Dad's laziness (He shits in the tub at 5) and my daughter can be as bitchy as her mother (she has no friends at daycare). But in general, they are sweet kids who go through all the same phases as any other child.

Yet, according to the "expert parents" that Baby Daddy comes in contact with, our children are little terrorists and we are in desperate need of a Super Nanny intervention.

However, last night Baby Daddy came home after a work "drink" and gave me a shock of a lifetime.
He sat down beside me like he normally does when he wants to regurgitate something he has learned from Holland's Best Parent. I began to sweat, nervous and somehow knew this was going to be some serious business.

He sighed and leaned over and said, "Baby, parents lie about their kids". 

WTF? Did he really say this I wondered. I pinched myself on the leg. Ouch, yes he really said it.

I was getting excited at his revelation, but I could feel the disappointment in his voice. He began to shake his head and seemed to be replaying all those conversations we had about the best advice that never worked with our own kids. 

Then he lifted his head and I could see the relief in his eyes when he realized he wasn't a failure after all.

Finally, Baby Daddy got it! Amen! My suffering was over! He was free!

"Lies, it was all lies. Their kids have problems, too."

"Yes, sweetie, all kids have issues, it's all part of learning."

"Why," he asked me, "why do they lie about their kids?"

So I gave him a big hug and looked into his eyes and said, "Because Sweety, they didn't have amazing parents like us to teach them that every time they tell a lie, a blue strip appears on their forehead."

My last Queen's Day before I die

Ok, maybe I might make it 30 more years when King W hands over his crown to Amalia, but I will be too busy travelling on my yacht around the world after retirement to worry about Queen's Day! Anyway, it was my 10th and quietest...all the peasants were home watching the crowning except me who sold homemade sandwiches in Vondelpark. Im on my Momcation right now in Spain and internet sucks so I can't caption pics until I return to reality next week!! So till then, Long Live the King!

The new King and Queen were even honored on cookie tins

Here you have some orange sprinkled royal mystery meat

Here is the Dutch diet staple: Royal potatos

The royal Coke Colas!

Even the balony grew in the shape of a royal crown

Here are my Dutchlings shopping in Vondelpark

This family danced and belly danced for their coins in Vondelpark

I gave these future break dancers 2 euros for their show. Amazing talent!

Unfortunate for us, this prodigy was just across from our sandwich stand

Here is Babby Daddy making homemade sanwiches and selling one to the King

Here are the Dutchlings trying to sell in Vondel park

I feed my kids rotten meat

Here is the rotten meat in a box

My kids are FREAKS when it comes to eating. I am constantly reading or listening to other mothers complain about their children's eating habits. Either their children won't eat, or won't eat veggies, or will only eat sweets.

Not my kids. No, my kids love broccoli, cauliflower, green beans and even sprouts. They will eat just about anything you put in their dinner "bowl". They are like little hungry pups, literally lapping up their feed. Not normal!

And to really flip me out, they pretend their food is actually something else. Green beans are grass for the plant eaters and broccoli are baby trees. Hello, they are not suppose to know that trick! That was the trick I had ready up my sleeve to get them to eat their veggies.

Let me give you an example of the latest kookiness of my offspring. I decided to start acting like an old fart and work on my digestive sytem. So I bought myself a box of Kelloggs Bran. You know, that cereal that actually not only looks like little tree twigs but tastes like it too.

Well sometimes I eat it raw, or without milk and the other day I had left a bowl on the table while I went into the kitchen to grab a spoon.

Then I hear, "Yummmm carrion!" "Ahhh look Luca, I found some carrion." And I can then hear the sound of the bowl being tossed around the table from their lapping.

Yes, my kids were taking turns licking up bran cereal from my bowl (Ok I never said they had good table manners). Disgusting!

"Mama, we are eating carrion, we are T-Rexes!" First of all I have no idea what the hell carrion is, the only thing I know is that they talk about it on Dinosaur Train. So I look it up quickly on my phone: Dead, rotting, decaying meat.

So now every morning since, my kids jump on me begging for carrion for breakfast! Why can't my kids eat oatmeal or toast like the other kids. Nope, my kids insist on eat rotting dinosaur meat for breakfast! I told you, FREAKS!

Warning: Neighbors and Nakedness

Take a peek in an Amsterdam binnen tuin...see any nakedness?

For those of you who don't live in Amsterdam, here is a little fact: A good percentage of Amsterdammers do not have curtains in their living room (which is usually the only room that has windows facing the street).

You can literally take a peek into their lives. You can see all their precious treasures, beautiful art, old fashioned rooms, what they are watching on TV or in my neighbor's case, a big fat naked butt streaking across the house.

Yes, Bible Belt raised Southern Belle aka ME does not have curtains in most rooms of my house, just the two bedrooms. So, when I go from the shower on one side of the house to my bedroom on the other,  neighbors out on their balcony have front row seats to the "Naked Mama Makes a run for it show".

I mean, come on it's Holland, it's too cold to go on your balcony, so I thought I was safe trotting around in my birthday suit. And of course I have a bathrobe, but normally I do not have time to even wash my "pits" before the kids are killing each other, much less throw on a robe. And they don't make towels big enough towels in this country to cover a real woman's body. 

Sometimes I even settle disputes en route to the privacy of my bedroom that is why it's not shocking for me that my neighbor has seen me naked. 

I know, now you are wondering how do I know he has seen me naked. Well, it's not like he came up to me one day and said "Love that tight ass!"

Nope, I could tell when I saw him in the supermarket yesterday. He was walking out when I was walking in, I smiled and said hello and his face turned green and he looked like he was going to vomit. HELLO,  I was a social worker for five years; I know what Post Traumatic Stress Disorder looks like!

Poor guy couldn't get out of there fast enough. He practically kicked his toddler daughter out of the door. Last time I saw him he was all friendly and even said "Hello". 

So it doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out why he reacted the way he did: He must have seen me streak across the house. He was probably out on his balcony  innocently smoking a ciggy or watering his plants and he got a shock of a lifetime.

I mean who could blame the guy. He has a skinny home-grown flight attendant Baby Mama and I am sure he has never seen such a sight before in his life. Dutch women only gain like 2 kilos when they are preggers and look like supermodels before their kids even start breastfeeding!

Therefore, you can imagine his trauma when he saw my body after birthing two babies. It's a miracle he didn't turn to stone after seeing the body with a "muffin top" even with my fat girl underwear on! 

Yep, he saw me! I guess I should be embarrassed and maybe even buy curtains, but actually I can't be bothered.  Maybe one day I will remember to buy some of those window stickers to block the view. Or maybe I just keep traumatizing my neighbors!

Eat my eggs, snobby mamas!

Yes, I rock! I am the Queen of the Paas Ontbijt or for you non-Dutchies, that means Easter Breakfast. This year yours truly, the Outcast-Expat-Yoga-Pants-Wearing Mama was asked to make stuffed eggs for my daughter's class. 

Look at these eggs! And I am the only working mother in the class! After 12 hours of working and commuting, I came home and made these stuffed eggs. I agree, they look like they are on Crack but I was cutting up the pickles at 10pm with only one eye opened.

The kids loved them and I am now the reigning teachers' pet! I arrogantly basked in the limelight while the Albert Hein Supermarket-Easter-treat buying-In-crowd Mamas scowled from the corner. I can now hold my once left-out head up high walking across the school yard, I am down with the teachers, I am Teacher's Pet, hear me ROAR!

And hello, I may not brush my hair very often and dress like I'm always on my way to the gym yet obviously never get there, but watch out all you Fashion Show Barbie Mamas on the schoolplein, I'm a creative chick!

Happy Easter!! 

Daycare and Preschool: You suck!!

Charly and Puk with his suicase full of things to be lost

Dear Daycare and Preschool,

I would first like to say thank you for taking such good care of my babies. God knows you practically raised them and most probably taught them everything they need to know about manners, hygiene and going poo poo on the potty.

And for this, I am so grateful.

But there is one thing that I think you should know. And I know you mean well and it’s all part of this advanced teaching thing you guys have going on to try to get more kids into the daycare and preschool. I know its crisis time.

Yet, I am also in a crisis. In the last month my daughter has brought home this “logeer knuffel”or a.k.a stuffed doll that comes home with the child for a few days. I totally understand the lesson behind this Doll, but it’s just one more thing for me to keep up with (along with all the contents in its suitcase).

Trust me, my three year old is not responsible yet to keep track of this Doll. It would be all fine if she would just leave the thing home, but noooo, you guys have conditioned her to take it everywhere, give it experiences.

Come on people! The only experience this doll gets when it goes out with my daughter is its face being dragged on the street. I end up finding it left on the floor of the supermarket or behind the bench at the playground. And God forbid we lose this Doll. My daughter would be shunned by the class and  I would forever be known as “That Mother who lost Puk or Ed.”

And if this was not enough to worry about, I have to dress the damn thing twice a day. So now that’s 4 bodies I have to dress the last two mornings and nights. And to be honest, this Doll is probably the most difficult out of the four to dress because some parents must have washed his pajamas and outfits in 200F. Its clothes are like 2 sizes too small (which probably means some kid shit or snotted him all up with crusty boogies so mommy had to wash…Puke).

Great, for the last two mornings I have taken 15 extra minutes to try to squeeze this Doll into its clothes making us 15 minutes late for school this morning. So you know what I did, I called Charly’s teacher and said she was gonna be late because we were dressing that F-ing Doll.

And the icing on the cake: my daughter brought this Doll in bed with me and stuffed him practically in my mouth this morning, saying I need to cuddle him. I swear I almost vomited! Hello, germs and fecal matter from all the little snot noses who have also snuggled with this doll. So now on top of everything, I will most probably get sick!

Thank God this germ infested doll goes back to school tomorrow morning. But of course, there is yet one more thing I must do for this Doll before it goes back. I have to write all about his wonderful adventures while staying at our house IN ANOTHER LANGUAGE!!

Since I have to write in Dutch and I am warning you teachers, it will go something like this: Puk sleep at our house. See Puk run. Go Puk, go! Puk is a pain in my A double SS!

Ok, I am now finished with the bitching, so daycare and preschool, I hope you can understand why I am not too pleased with this idea. But I am only complaining to you, because to be honest, my daughter has so enjoyed the experience and I know she won’t soon for get it. So I thank you for that…

Sincerely,

Mama

PS. Charly has lost the Doll’s teddy bear somewhere in our house and hopefully we will find it by the time she is in high school!