the first time I ever had something in common with a frat boy
On Saturday, when Gracie and I were at our wits end, I realized we hadn't left the house in a solid five days. It explained everything about our moods (though the snow probably didn't help). Once I recovered from mastitis, we both came down with colds, and thus we hibernated. I decided this week would be different, and sniffly or not, we would leave the house as much as we could. Usually that would mean the park and long neighborhood walks, but the beginning of April seemed to signal the beginning of winter, so we got creative.
There's a record store on the Ohio State campus I've been wanting to go to for a long time. It's a hassle to get to, so I wrote it off for awhile, but I started thinking about it again the other day. We woke up yesterday to a cold, rainy day, but we rallied. I threw a roast and veggies in the crock pot, grabbed the ergo (because I'm not a regular mom, I'm a ~cool~ mom), and off we went.
I have a thing for college campuses. I love them. A college bookstore is one of my favorite things in the world. I have no explanation for this. I want to sniff the textbooks and fondle the clothing and sift through the pens. When I was younger, it would make me excited for college, but now it makes me nostalgic. I would never want to go to college again, but it's fun to think about. What classes would I take? What would I do differently? I pondered this while I drove through side streets of gorgeous, stately homes that have been rented out and taken over by drunken students. I found us a meter and parked out front of a frat house. The meter still had plenty of time on it. The stars had aligned. We went to the store and flipped through stacks and racks of vintage records. I audibly gasped when I found not one, but TWO records I've been hunting for for years that I couldn't find at a reasonable price. But here they were, right in front of me, for $1. I openly wept. And all God's people said Amen.
I wanted to stay for hours searching through every bin and rack, but it was lunchtime and Gracie wasn't letting me forget. We walked a few blocks to the car, dodging curious glances from students wondering what a lady with a baby strapped to her was doing in the middle of campus. I kind of loved it. It was like a visual reminder to them not to party too hard, or this might be their future. A GOOD future, but not one you want when you have homework due in the morning.
We got to the car and I nursed Gracie because she was not going to make it home in one piece otherwise. Nursing a baby in front of a frat house is officially the strangest place I've nursed a baby. I'm not sure many other people can boast this one. Visions of the show Greek were dancing in my head. I put my head down and tried not to laugh whenever anyone walked past. I was not a partier in college, so it took me until age 27 to partially undress at a frat house. While Gracie was mid-lunch appetizer, a dude in absolutely nothing but his boxers ran toward the frat house, his shaggy bedhead trailing behind him. He was chuckling to himself and nervously checking his surroundings to make sure no one saw him. No one saw him except the mom in the black Honda also in a state of slight undress. Solidarity, dude. It was the classic run of shame, John Tucker style. Finally, someone in a more compromising situation than I was in. But this is a college campus we're talking about, so it's probably not that unusual. But it was incredibly entertaining.
I'm telling you: sometimes it pays to leave the house when you're not feeling like it.