Limp bizkits, Mommy-Monsters and privileges...

K did the jellyfish today, otherwise known in our house as going "limp-bizkit."  She was given the dreaded time-out during the last five minutes of our play date this morning, and since she is almost 5...there went the remainder of her sprinkler-time with friends.  She was NOT HAPPY.  I was NOT  HAPPY.

Let's just clarify right now that K takes after her dad, tall, skinny & heavy (and takes after me too, moody)!  When she decides that she has no will to live, and therefore has no bones or muscles to support herself with, I go into panic mode because, how in the heck am I going to get a soaking wet 40 pound jellyfish into the car (and we were driving a dealer loaner this morning to boot) and keep an eye on little A, my fearless wonder who would likely be running down West Lake Houston faster than I could say "toddler pancake."

So, combine NOT HAPPY and panic mode and what did I get?  The Mommy-Monster, the term we like to use to describe Mommy when I literally have steam coming out of my ears.  The little voice in the back of my head was telling me to keep my cool, but the Mommy-Monster was trying her best to get K to grow some bones, and quick.  I tried to prop-her up, I tried to get her to look me in the eye and focus on my requests, I tried to bribe her with chicken nuggets.  The nuggets worked long enough for me to get her into some dry clothes, but by the time we hit the rental car, she was dangling from my hand like an extra full Hefty bag.  And while some may rationalize the Mommy-Monster's appearance by saying, "Don't worry, you probably only felt that way, I am sure it wasn't that bad," you have to wonder how bad it really was when all of the other mothers at the play date quickly gathered their children and the room (or patio, in this case) went quiet.  Oops...

We all have Mommy-Monsters lurking inside of us, I know that.  I also know that I am not the most patient person in the world and that my Monster likes to come out of  hiding a little more than I would prefer.  Fortunately, I am finding that as long as the hormonal stars are aligned, I am usually able to keep my cool.  But when I don't, well, just don't even think about going limp-bizkit on me, because clearly, that is a recipe for losing your chicken nugget privilege.

I was hoping I could go a little limp-bizkit myself this evening with the assistance of a margarita (or 3) at my favorite Mexican food restaurant tonight...but alas, it has closed for some mysterious "renovations."  What is a Mommy-Monster supposed to do?  I guess I have lost my margarita privilege.

 This is your mommy when her margarita privileges have been revoked...