I know everyone expects me to write a cynical and possibly crazy take on That Thing that happened yesterday. You can probably figure that what I was going to write was going to be pretty goddamned crazy, because I am not even going there. I am not going to acknowledge it. Sorry I disappoint.

I will write about all of the exciting events of the day. I had an appointment at a radiology clinic today for a breast ultrasound.

Wait, what? I never mentioned here that a couple of weeks ago I found a lump in my left armpit while I was inspecting my newly engorged boobs. I wasn’t even looking for anything, because when you begin breastfeeding, it’s not exactly the best time to perform a breast exam. I was just kind of fondling myself in the shower, and there it was. I didn’t really make much of it out in the open, although in my head, yes, I was fretting over the possibility that maybe the hormones from pregnancy gave me terminal breast cancer. I didn’t talk to anyone about it, not even my mother-in-law, who is a breast cancer survivor, and would hopefully have more knowledge on the subject of lumps and bumps than myself, even though she was here for the entire two weeks. I just thought it was too intimate. Too weird.

Anyway, my OB referred me to get this ultrasound, and it turns out it’s just a swollen lymph node. On the one hand, yay! Not breast cancer! On the other hand, that’s not really great either. I don’t know what my OB will say, or what is next. I can kind of breath a sigh of relief right before I throw all of my balls back up in the air.

And then Deven and I made cookies. He wasn’t his worst today, but he wasn’t all that good either. He still got put in time-out a couple of times for not listening, but he at least he didn’t throw anything in mine or his brother’s direction. I read him bedtime stories tonight. Doing those little things with him, like making and devouring delicious cookies with him, and reading him stories makes me feel more like I am being a likable parent again, and not just a mean disciplinary monster. I’ve been an impatient bitch for the last 10 months, it’s about time a day like this comes along. I hope it only gets better from now on. I mean, it can only get better, right? Please tell me that’s right.

I ended the night by watching a movie on Netflix called Dhobi Ghat which is a foreign film from India. I thought, great, this is a non-musical from India, that’s an actual movie produced in India. The only thing I had seen that came close was Monsoon Wedding, which is one of my favorite all time movies, but I don’t think is actually an Indian film. Anyway, the movie seemed so great, right up my alley, with these really well developed characters with interesting conflicts. At the beginning of the film, the characters ties to one another are made clear, and then they break apart, and the movie continues detailing their stories. You keep waiting, and waiting for all three of them to come together again, and the movie ends, and I realized I had no idea what was going on the entire movie. Okay, I did, because I kept waiting for closure, but it never happens. It goes like this: Pretty Indian/ American banker/photographer meets the Indian painter, and they spend the night together, and it goes nowhere, and she befriends the laundry guy, who is also the painter’s laundry guy, and they become BFFs, meanwhile, there’s still the painter guy! Doing his thing! Kind of coming in and out, but not really playing a role in the story anymore! This movie totally lacked a plot. And cohesion. And closure.  Kind of like this blog post. But I still want to like it.

One thing stood out to me: It must be really hard to eat with one hand.

Think about it.