A Bun In The Oven, Or Two Embryo’s In The Microwave?

Let me preface this story by reminding you that it’s 2am. Tonight was my night out of the house to get professional stuff done so I have been at a restaurant doing work with a constant IV of coffee for the past six hours. I am now laying in a dark bed with my eyes wide open jittering with excitement…over what, I have no freaking clue.

I’m at a crossroads in my professional life because, you know, that whole lost my job moved my family thing. So I’m trying to figure out what I want to do next.

There’s a part of me that thinks I’d make a bang-up mommy blogger. I mean, I have kids and know how to use a keyboard which pretty much makes me an expert. But to be a revenue making mommy blogger you have to have, oh, I don’t know, some readers – thousands of them. To put it into perspective my last follower brought me to a grand total of 25.

So in order to have any hope of site sponsors I’d need to drum up approximately twenty four thousand nine hundred and seventy five more readers. That’ll be awhile.

Preface over, story starting.

So I’m laying in bed contemplating my future as a mommy blogger when the thought crosses my mind that it might take me 15 years to get enough readers to make any kind of money off this blogging thing. By then the boys would be 15 and, let’s face it, mommy blogging has a life expectancy that lasts only as long as your kids are cute. I mean, I have cute kids but by 15 nobody’s cute. They’re awkward and are going through crazy teen shit that you just don’t share on the interweb.

So then BAM, just like that I’d go from mommy blogging amazing-ness to washed up, graying, psycho blogger crazy lady with no followers because my kids aren’t cute anymore.

Then, in this dialogue in my head, I nonchalantly commented that when my boys become pimple faced awkward teens whose content no longer supports my mommy blogging addiction I’d just go to the freezer, take out a few frozen embryo’s, pop ‘em in the microwave for a few seconds, open the door and let the little bundles of joy roll out into my arms. By the way, I actually saw the babies rolling out of the microwave. One was in pink.

I sat up in bed because I couldn’t tell if I had been dreaming or if I had really just said that to myself. I’d said it, to myself, in my head.

And then I thought, Holy shit. I wonder if someone could invent a plate for my frozen embryo’s so I could go to the freezer, take a few out, pop ‘em in the microwave, and cook myself up some babies!

Cause skipping that whole my body has been invaded by aliens and, oh, now they’re out and I’m flabby and saggy thing, would be suh-weet!

The End.