Poetry Word, plus a mass, and Mona pays homage to Catherine Newman

Here’s something you don’t want to hear your doctor say….

“You may have a mass….”

This morning I saw an ophthalmologist about my leaky eye, and after pressing the lump under my tear duct until it gave me a huge frickin’ lumpy headache, he said, well, the MASS thing. And the word ‘biopsy’ was in there too. He referred me to an eyelid specialist…(wow, talk about niches!)…who I see next week. Now, of course, I’m all panicky that I have TEAR DUCT CANCER or something, and could that be the cause of my week-long headache AND my constant desire to blow my nose, if the MASS is under my tear duct near my nose. Fack. I overreact, I always do, but I had a little “life-flash-before-eyes” thing happen there and it startled the pee right outta my squirter. (I didn’t squirt, but my heart stopped for a few seconds, that I’m sure of.)

I was rolling the word MASS over in my mouth on the way to work, and pondering it’s meanings…MASS communication, MASS in the Catholic Church, MASS confusion…well, you get the picture. So, thusly, and therefore, the confounding Poetry Friday WORD for tomorrow is MASS. However you want to use it, whatever meaning, in whatever creative form…photo or story or church hymn or birth control method or song-styling. Have at it.

Yesterday was a sad day. For the past four years, my every Wednesday has been lit up by the ParentCenter newsletter, and by one thing and one thing only in that newsletter…”Bringing Up Ben and Birdy”, a stunningly frank and funny column by writer Catherine Newman. I can’t tell you how much that column makes my day. Catherine writes, well, like you and I write, self-revealing, warts and all, the funny and the furious, the trembling and the terrific, the toddlers and the kindergarteners, her family, her woes, her joys. Her son, Ben, is the same age as my Girlchild, and I feel a kinship with Catherine when she assures me that, yes, it’s fine to wipe the snot from your wee one’s nose and then dry your soppy fingers off on your new work skirt…or how the first day of preschool is harder on the parent in the long-run…or how it’s fine to kick yourself for not taking the time to play tea party for just “15 more minutes”. In yesterday’s column, Catherine announced she was ending the whole she-bang in two weeks. I sat there stunned for I-don’t-know-how-long. I’ll miss her. I’ll miss the assurances and the way her writing made me feel like a normal parent, instead of a screaming Three-Headed-Monster-Mom. I’ll miss the voyeurism into the life of a family, a family with kids like mine and a husband/partner who is infinitely more patient and kind than I feel most days, and the joys of watching your breasts turn into fun-bags-of-sand. Catherine, I’ll miss ya. I’ll miss ya bad. If you’re ever in the blogosphere and hangin’ out, come see me…we’ll have a tea party.