Some days I feel like I suck at the blog because all I can think to yak on about is mom stuff. Fear not, I have much more mom stuff in the queue, but I’m sure you agree the internet needs a break from my incessant commentary. Mommentary? BAHAHA did you see what I did there? My jokes also get exponentially worse with each passing day. Here at the Becker homestead we affectionately call the pacifier the “Fi”, and I cannot go a day without singing “Everybody in the club/all fis on us/all fis on us” and I crack up and Jeff tells me this is another one of those situations where it’s possible it’s funnier in my mind than everyone else’s. LIES. Because today in the car I heard a radio commercial for spicy brown mustard that actually made a bratwurst/”bratbest” joke. YES THAT HAPPENED. That means that someone was paid money to come up with that. Mustard execs, call me!
So I say to myself, what the heck? How did so much hilarious stuff used to happen to me? Days used to begin uneventfully and then 13 hours later I’d return home with hilarious blog fodder like splashing shrimp juice all over the place or strangers accosting me on the metro or crazies or crazies in ridiculous headphones. And I realize, oh yea, I used to live and ride public transportation in a large urban area. And one upside to starting your days on a crowded train smashed crotch-to-butt and face-to-ponytail against smelly strangers is that you got a lot of funny stories out of it. And my lack of funny stories is probably due to the fact that I now spend my days dispensing breast milk and monitoring my child’s bowel movements. I am living the dream. (And believe it or not, I do mean that in all seriousness.)
But– EXCITING NEWS Y’ALL– today we made it out of the house and ran three (3) errands. One of which was picking up a book from the library which even in boring Pennsylvania never fails to disappoint. One day back a few months ago I was working from the library and some yahoo approached me and asked if he could borrow my laptop. WHATTA? No? IT’S THE LIBRARY. Home of The People’s Computer. GO AWAY. Except I said it in a polite way, I promise.
So I huff into the library, car seat in tow. By the way, I hate that stinking car seat. But less than I hate the stroller, so I usually end up carrying it. The car seat is light. The baby is light. How is that combining the two makes it weigh 65 pounds? I’m working on getting more fluent with his wrap. Anyway, in we go and there is a couple in some kind of lover’s quarrel right in front of the circulation desk. The chick is obviously really angry and the guy keeps pleading, “Please just let me walk you home! Please just let me walk you home!”. I took my sweet old time retrieving my book from the hold shelf so I could watch this unfurl, because, like I said, this is probably the most exciting thing that will happen to me all month and I was BUSTING OUT MY POPCORN. Then she asked the librarian to use their phone, and I sort of lost the story from here, but I caught her saying something about a letter this guy had gotten. I have seen enough reality TV to know that anything involving letters usually indicates a critically high level of craziness.
I further lost the story when I had to go up to the help desk cause I was having issues with the self checkout machine thing. As the kind librarian pointed out to me, I had been scanning the wrong bar code. I was scanning the actual bar code on the book itself instead of the library bar code sticker. I was SO EMBARRASSED. So much cluelessness. SO MUCH.
Then that night I went home and I placed a call on my cell phone, except I was holding the baby monitor in my other hand, and I brought the baby monitor up to my ear instead of the phone. Then this morning I came perilously close to pouring coffee onto my lidded cup before I caught myself at the last minute and removed the lid. I think I’ll stick with blaming hormones for my stoopidity.
Uhh, OK, that’s all I have for now. Sorry it sucks so much.