Modern Mommy Poker

Last week was a whirlwind of social gatherings for me, spanning three major arenas in my life.  I first had an in-laws family reunion in North Carolina Tuesday-Thursday (with no internet or phone reception, hence my inexplicated absence last Wednesday), followed by Aflakattack in D.C. on Thursday night-Friday morning, followed by my law firm offsite convention in Florida, Friday Evening-Sunday morning.

It was great seeing hundreds of people, over the course of the week, who I only get to see a couple times a year at most.  But there was one odd pattern that dominated all three engagements.  It was not who was there that resonated most with me, but who was missing, and why.  Two of Imaginary Husband’s cousins had to forgo the trip to N.C. because they had a new baby, and couldn’t bear a 7-hour car ride with him.  Then several of my former co-clerks had to decline the Court reception, again, due to new babies.  Same for several of my favorite colleagues at branch offices of my law firm, all new mommies.

At first, I was confused.  Isn’t having a new baby exactly when you would most want to get away for a few days?  Dump that shit on the grandparents and let’s get wasted!  And then have the best night’s sleep you will ever have again!  But, as a childless ignoramus, I forgot the defining feature of modern baby-mommas.  Nursing.  You can’t ditch the kid and get wasted with me when your boobs are totally monopolized.

So I was forced to hang out with the early 20-somethings who are single, or the aging Gen-X crowd whose kids are older.  Both fun demographics, but when the beach club started blasting Meghan Trainor on Saturday night, I no longer saw a bunch of overworked lawyers reliving their glory days.  All I could envision in the crowd were post-millennial infants, in their eco-friendly memory-foam diapers, twerking and shouting…

You know I’m all about that boob,
‘Bout that boob,
no bottle.
I’m all about that boob
‘Bout that boob,
no bottle.
I’m all about that boob
‘Bout that boob,
no bottle.
I’m all about that boob,
‘Bout that boob.

OBs are preaching hard, the science must be true.
Breastfeeding’s all the rage
It’s what you have to do.
Get used to ya nipples in front of strangers’ faces
Cuz I always get hungry in public places.

See Grandma nuking something, inside a plastic cup?
We know that shit ain’t real
She gotta give it up
I shun preservatives, go google that
’Cause every inch of me is natural
From the booties to the hat.

Yeah, my mama she read every book in the Kindle store
Now all I touch is sterile, organic, free-range, and pure.
You know I won’t drink no synthetic powdered formula now
I got my own personal 24-hour human dairy cow.

Because you know I’m
All about that boob
’Bout that boob,
no bottle.
I’m all about that boob
’Bout that boob,
no bottle.
I’m all about that boob
’Bout that boob,
no bottle
I’m all about that boob
’Bout that boob

Poker will be at [————–], starting at 8pm, $10 buy-in cash game, RSVP.  Bring beer, wine, liquor, I don’t care.  Just don’t bring cans.  Cuz you know I’M all about that bottle.


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