Monthly Archives: July 2011

Introducing Becky’s Professional Review

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So, I hear some bloggers do reviews.

Apparently you can get paid for stuff like that.

I am now about to demonstrate why nobody will ever hire me to review their product.

Product: MotherLove More Milk Plus

Claim: “A safe and effective herbal formula designed to quickly increase breast milk for breastfeeding mothers.”

Effectiveness according to me: Hey, you know what? This stuff actually works. I took it, I did all those other handy tricks (drank tons of water, ate oatmeal, pumped more often), and in about a week I had increased from about 9-10 ounces per workday to 13-14 ounces per workday. Who knows? It’s only been a week… maybe I will increase even more. This stuff definitely does its job.

Why I bothered writing this review: After taking my dose this morning I finally figured out how to describe the taste…. Do you remember The Matrix? Do you remember the way people looked when they were mid-morph, when the agents were possessing them and their face was melting off in a kind horrified scream, features twisting in agony?

Yup. It tastes just like that. It’s such a great flavor.

I made The Bean taste a tiny drop once. He brushed his teeth for twenty minutes.

You know what? I’m feeling kind of mean right now. The Bean is lying comfortably on our sofa, curled up with a cat.

It’s time for my noon dosage of the face-melting, highly-effective Motherlove More Milk Plus.

I’m going to go take my medicine.

And then I’m going to save just a teensy bit of it between my lips… and go kiss The Bean.

Stay tuned. I’ll let you know what his reaction is.

*****

Update: His face lit up as I went down to give him a loving kiss….. and then once he tasted it he buried his face in the couch pillow and moaned. “You’re sick… SICK. Why would you do that? Nasty! You’re SICK!”

And then as I stood in front of him, cackling:

“Move. I can’t see the tv.”

I think he’ll survive.

He’s MINE, girls… BACK OFF!

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It’s the middle of the week, and both the Bean and I have just arrived home after yet another glorious day in California traffic.

As usual, The DragonMonkey is making loud, noisy laps around the house.

“Eeeeee! Hahahahahahahahah! Kick doggie! Hahahahahahaha! EEEE!!! EEE!!”

In a perfect, 1950s world I’d be donning my apron, patting my perfectly coiffed hair, and getting ready to lovingly prepare a healthy, nutritious, and delicious warm meal for my family.

Unfortunately for The Bean, this is 2011 and I ain’t no June Cleaver.

“Hey Bean,” I holler, trying to be heard over the racket the DragonMonkey is making. “Grab a hotdog out of the fridge for the DM. It’s dinner time.”

Hot dogs are considered healthy, delicious, and nutritious, right?

Please don’t answer that.

“We’ve only got one,” The Bean hollers back. “What else do we give him?”

“Ummmm…..” Let’s see… rice takes too long… I’ve cooked fish three times this week…. I did chips yesterday….. Ah-ha! “Applesauce. Give him some applesauce.”

There. Protein and fruit. Maybe it’s not a culinary masterpiece, but it’s gluten-free and filling. Yay for me.

From the living room, the Squidgelet begins to whimper quietly. Hello? Hello? Has everyone forgotten about me?

I flatten myself against the wall, preparing to push myself between the Bean and open refrigerator door and the narrow kitchen doorway so I can go pick him up.

Thoughtfully, the Bean shuts the door slightly, so I don’t have to actually suck in my flabby belly beautifully toned abs to squeeze past. I shoot him a smile, but he seems distracted.

As I scoot past him, I see the door jerk in my direction… once, twice… accompanied by a muted “Pa-choo! Pa-choo!”

I stop, and stare at the Bean incredulously.

“Did you…Did you just pretend to hit me with the refrigerator door? Complete with cartoony sound effects?”

The Bean flushes, and his eyes drop guiltily.

“Yeah.”

“Why? What on earth would make you do that?”

He shrugs like a teenager, still eyeing the floor guiltily. “I dunno. It just seemed like it would be fun. Like a videogame, or something.”

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Actual Excerpt from Gmail Chat:



Sigh.

They never grow up, do they?