Yesterday I was primed and hopeful to weigh in at Weight Watchers. I had the most active week to date. I had been tracking like a mo-fo. (daily for three weeks in a row!) I was RED-AY.
I step on the miniature livestock scale and boom. I get the whispered, crinkle-nosed “You’re up a little this week.”
I had prepared myself for this possibility. We had 2 salty dinners in a row and I was feeling a little *expanded* from the salt. I was still feeling really proud of all the activity I had done and just took it with a grain of salt ….. ehh? See what I did there? nyuck nyuck nyuck.
So my spirits were high leaving the meeting. Not as high as if I had lost a pound, but happy nonetheless. I went along with my business of the day.
After I picked up my son with the 4 year old in tow, she had a prized little sister moment. We were walking to the van and my son was chattering along happily about his day (a feat in and of itself) when he turns, turns back and says softly, “(my crush) is walking behind us, mom!”.
He hasn’t learned not to utter such phrases around his little sister. Instinctively, she grabbed onto this and wouldn’t shut up.
“G loves (her)”.
“G want’s to marry (her).”
“SHUT UUUUUUP! MOM! Make her stop!”
(mom laughing) “She can’t hear, honey, don’t worry about it.”
(trying desperately not to laugh)
“G wants to kiss (her)”
“knock it off !!! She’s going to hear you!”
My daughter was really feeling her moment at this point. The thrill of the possibility of embarrassing her brother. The fact mom was turning purple from trying not to fall down in hysterics. The raw POWER! It was going to her little head.
It ended with us getting to the van finally as my son was making threats on his sisters’ limbs if she didn’t shut up. I felt bad we were all
snickering cackling in front of a family we didn’t know, but it was a rare moment of my son being quiet and embarrassed and my daughter puffed up with all the power. It was hard not to react.
Cut to this morning. I am taking my son to school while the daughter is at home on the iPad with the unconscious husband. Somehow we get on the subject of monsters or fighting and I made the comment, “Oh yea, kind of like me when I turn into a monster, huh?” … setting the trap… he responds, “Yea.” and SNAP! Caught just like that.
“Am I a monster mom?”
“No .. not really.”
“Am I nice more often or a monster more often?”
“I’m just kidding, mom! 🙂 … I was kidding …. mom …? ”
So I did my best imitation of myself losing my shit. He is laughing and then says, “Yea, you’re like the MULK.”
“Yea, like a mom Hulk”
How very flattering… not.
Then we had an informative conversation about how I turn into the Mulk. The common thread being a lack of movement or direction-following on his part. Coincidence? I think not.
I wonder how many calories I burn turning into the Mulk? I’ll have to pay closer attention to my steps … MULK SMASH!
(She’s missing a spare tire and a cup of coffee… and a scowl and double chin. Then the resemblance is uncanny!)