A year ago, the stage to usher in 50 was different. I jaunted about London with two husbands and a sister-wife in tow for a farewell tour to the musical we’d been in that spring to experience Mamma Mia! The Party. I planned to write a book about it.

“Mama Meets Mamma Mia! Having Fun Through My Mid-Life Crisis”–Living off the high of being on stage in Mamma Mia! for the first time in my adult life, even though it was over, I couldn’t let it go. It was on re-run in my soul.

I had a stage husband who cracked jokes like Alex and helped get me through the terror of it, so it only seemed natural when I got to meet my sister-wife that we’d get along splendidly and would start plotting our getaway to party Mamma Mia style in London.

There was the in-between, of course. Alex had been prodding me, “What do you want to do for your 50th?” The answer: “not turn 50.” And since we couldn’t turn back Big Ben, we could always dress up and dance to ABBA music and party like it’s 1999.

Oops, wrong song, but Prince had the same concept. I had gotten the bug. I’d do anything to recreate that experience of being on stage.

So I set about finding it.

There were tons of places to dance to ABBA in Philadelphia, but none on my birthday. So I decided to look in New York instead. And there it was, on the Today Show, a clip about Mamma Mia! The Party. A dinner dance, musical extravaganza–calling my name in London of all places.

The 50th birthday celebration plot thickened. “Mamma Mia, here we go again” was on fire in my soul.

So we took it to the streets of London.

We had the time of our lives, and funny stories to boot, but we were on a mission: we had a date with ABBA at Mamma Mia! The Party.

We paraded around London in our ABBA costumes to get to the Tube. It’s hard to imagine how we were all shoved together and not worried about germs. But we were too busy talking to everybody we met. Why ruin that glorious moment in time?

But the highlight of the night was the one thing I could never have planned for and could never be replicated.

With dinner complete and the Greek taverna transformed into a dance floor, I gravitated to the far side of the catwalk. I weaseled my way in, so there was just enough room for me in between the guards to dance myself silly.

Oh, how I danced! Until the actors and dancers left the catwalk, and the last one walked down the stairs. The guard turned to me and said, “Want to go up?”

I’ll never forget that moment when I put my hands to my chest, and I gasped, “Who me?” Like when someone you’re crushing on waves to you, and you can’t believe he’s signaling you.

He made me the first one up! I had that catwalk all to myself thanks to that guard. (It’s a fun shaky cam experience thanks to Anne, who was fast enough to right her camera and catch it).

Unbeknownst to me, my stage husband was in tow, but he gets cut off of this video. Anne and Alex got 10 seconds more of that video before they came rushing on the catwalk to join us. I won’t bore you with that one (only because I can’t seem to download it).

We had such an insane, brilliant amount of fun; what should have been the last chapter of my book became my first blog post, instead.

Fast forward to this year’s birthday; you’d think Mamma Mia! was out of my system. Alas, it’s not. It has a funny way of creeping up out of nowhere when you least expect it.

It just goes to show, all the world’s a Mamma Mia! stage! Or Muma Mia as the case and season maybe.

As you can tell, we couldn’t get enough of Mamma Mia last year, and we still can’t. And, if you want to know, here’s why.

Being in the musical helped me get over that moment in time when my love affair with my kids came to an end (it’s when the full realization that they weren’t kids anymore hit me). They were growing older and didn’t need me anymore.

As ABBA would have it, I forgot my worries. Who cares about sadness when you’re having so much fun?

And when my love affair with being on the south side of 50 came to an end last September, Mamma Mia took up residence in my soul again. ABBA always has the right songs to make you feel good.

Here we are a year later, and even if I wanted to, I know you’re not going to let me lose sight of Mamma Mia! It got me through tough times before.

Screw all that sadness and fear. As the lyrics go, “Yes, I’ve been broken-hearted, blue since the day we parted.” But, nothing can be so wrong when you sing the words to Mamma Mia!

“Mamma Mia, now I really know. My, my, I could never let you go.”

And so, another birthday has passed. And though there was no stage or catwalk, glitz or glam, I found myself in another breast surgeon’s office instead. Just the place to talk about my blog, no not my breasts–get with the program.

The intern asked me what I did. And that person who’s outside of myself heard me say, “I’m a Mom, and I write a blog.” And when she pressed me further, about what? I heard myself say, “The bright side of things. It’ll be interesting to find the bright side of cancer.”

And it started to sink in. I have doctors to take this seriously, but I can’t help with that. I’ve got to find the fun in it.

Now that my breasts are the stage, not that I’m getting much fanfare when I whip out my breasts at the doctor’s office, anyway, I’ll find a way to Mamma-Mia-fy this experience, too.

Maybe I won’t be dancing on the catwalk at the 02 in London anytime soon, but you never know when Mamma Mia! might hit you.

Here we were just the other day on the empty streets of Phoenixville. Who, but who did we run into?

It just goes to show, you can take the Mamma Mia! out of Mama, but you can’t take Mama out of Mamma Mia! Or is it the other way around?

Mamma Mia! lives on. All the world’s a Mamma Mia! stage–“Here we go again!” And this time, I’ll be sure to write about it.