Hey Mom, You Look Like..

Today was one of those days.  I started out in a cranky, irritable mood.  Low tolerance for sibling bickering.  Annoyed by aggressive drivers.  Hyper critical of tv pundits.

Then, when I dropped off the kids at their tennis lesson, I decided to zip over to Starbucks instead of watching their practice (as I normally would).  Sitting down with my Kindle, happy to snag one of the few cushy club chairs in the cafe, I drew the tall iced red-eye beverage toward me, looking forward to tasting the creamy goodness slip down my throat when suddenly I saw them falling – drip, drip, drip onto my fresh-from-the-cleaner starched white blouse – blasted red-eye coffee droplets.

ARGH!

After suffering several more little annoyances, I finally surrendered to the day and chalked it up as one of those “Alexander” days.

As soon as the kids and I arrived home, I took off my blouse to treat the stains.  Uncharacteristically, I stayed in my white cami while I applied the stain remover.

Just a short while later, as I started pulling out ingredients to make dinner, my son walked up to me and said, “Hey Mom! You know what you look like?”

I slowly lifted my head, turned toward him and said softly, “After the day I’ve had, I suggest you be careful here, son.”

Not having worked out yet this week, I was thinking,

“someone from The Sopranos”

or

“one of the guys in Goodfellas.”

I braced for the worst and prepared to stay calm, no matter what came out.

He hesitated for just a moment then said, “You know that lady in Terminator? Sarah Connor?”

Wha?!

Woohoo!  I’ll take that.  Oh, yeah!  I’ll gladly accept that compliment.*

I grinned more widely than I had all day, grabbed him and repeated, “I love you” at least ten times while hugging his little torso.

Well, maybe today wasn’t a total loss.

________________________________

*No…in reality I do NOT look like Linda Hamilton at her finest buffness.  Not even close. I still dream of having those arms, sure.  But that’s the beauty of his statement.  It’s his perception. Our kids see us with great big, humongous rose-colored glasses and, particularly when we’re having a lousy day, they have magically descriptive ways of letting us know. You know?

Advertisement