I used to be funny...

It's come to my attention that when I became a mom, I apparently lost some of my sense of humor.

Don't get me wrong -- so many things about my daily life are hilarious. Like the conversation Todd and I had the other night about Darius Rucker and how he must feel disappointment at his concerts when he realizes the audience is only made up of white people. (Todd's take on it was that Darius clearly knew what he was getting into long before he became a country singer, when he sang "Hold my Hand" with Hooty & the Blowfish in the 90's).

Or the story about how Todd forgot to buy me a card on my 28th birthday, and instead just bought me a Broadway PlayBill poster - which, who puts posters on their walls after the age of 19? Don't worry -- I totally got him back by getting pregnant, having a baby, developing post-partum depression, and completely forgetting to even acknowledge his 32nd birthday because I was too busy crying hysterically about a life insurance commercial that got me choked up.

Or the hilariousness of how despite the fact that he is now a non-smoker (oh, I'd never mentioned that on the blog before?), Todd still wants to one day be a pipe-smoking old dude. But he has his priorities straight. After all, we saw a 60-something guy driving a minivan yesterday hot-boxing himself with a huge pipe, and I said to Todd "is that what you envision yourself as one day?" to which he replied "totally...just not in the summer time when it's 90+ degrees...something about a pipe on a hot day makes me want to vomit"...which made me picture us in our 80s on our future front porch, sitting in our matching rockers, reflecting on the greatness that was our lives, only it's the dead of winter because Todd won't smoke his pipe in summer, and won't sit on the porch without his pipe, and now we're getting frostbite because we're old, and the whole thing just cracks me up.

And the anecdotes about the sweet little Vietnamese ladies at my nail place that always want to know when I'm having the baby, and still don't seem to understand when I say "I.ALREADY.HAD.HIM." in very loud, clear, English, and instead of responding with a congratulations, they just say "want me do lip?" while waxing my eyebrows.

And there's always plenty of stories about Whinnie's gas...and Nick's gas...and Todd's gas...and sometimes even my gas...but as soon as someone farts in our house, the fingers all start pointing, someone else is blamed (even though 90% of the time it's Todd who did the farting), and by the time we finish gagging over the smell, I've forgotten the fart story altogether and never wrote it down.

But along with mommy-hood comes mommy-brain, and usually by the time I sit down to type out a grand story of a day in the life of the K family, it ends up coming out as gushy lovey-dovey stuff about my new boyfriend Nick, or a great regaling of his recent change over from squishy poop to solid poop.

So I guess this is just a public service announcement to all my loyal (16) blog followers, that I apologize for the lack of hilarity that has been my blog lately, but gosh darnit if I didn't give birth to the cutest little nugget this side of the globe, and I just can't help myself when it comes to sharing every detail of his little life...even if that means boring baby food posts. So thanks for sticking with us! And I hope you'll all continue to read...because at least my mom thinks I'm funny!