Imitation, Motivation, and Humiliation

Imitation . . .

Meg is at a very cute stage these days . . . she imitates just about anything that she sees me doing. As I'm feeding Kate, it would not be unusual to see Meg lift up her shirt and feed her baby, too. If I'm sweeping the kitchen floor, within seconds I can be certain Meg will come running my way with her toy broom and dustpan to help with the job. This morning, I was bouncing and swaying Kate to her nap, and in came Meg to bounce and sway right next to me. She even wanted to put on make-up with me today . . . "Meg make up too, Mommy," she said as she pretended to brush blush on her cheeks.

It's all very darling and very, very cute. I'm enjoying this stage so much. Who wouldn't love their own personal 'mini-me' copying everything you do? I know she does it because she loves me and looks up to me, which is just so precious. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery . . . and Meg has me totally flattered.

Motivation . . .

Tried on some jeans today at the local Old Navy store. Ladies (and a few gentlemen), I was fitting into size 10s. 10 is good enough for me! I was an 8 before Meg . . . maybe a 6 in some styles/brands . . . so just a size or so left until I'm back to the old ME.

The experience was very motivating. Makes me want to keep counting my points and watching the weight come off. 13 weeks post-baby and only about 10 pounds to go. I can't complain.

Humiliation . . .

Meg is picked up from preschool in every suburban mom's favorite fashion: the car pool line. We line up with our car pool numbers displayed in our windows, wait, then pull up to the loading area and have a friendly teacher load our kids into the car. It's fast and efficient, and any mom like me with another baby in tow appreciates the heck out of it.

Last Thursday, I pulled up to the front of the line, but Meg was not standing outside with a teacher all ready to be loaded up. This was the second time in a row that I'd pulled up and had to wait . . . which really doesn't matter to me, but I hate it for the others waiting in line behind the Tahoe.

I heard the preschool director shout into the building, "Number 83! Megan Dahlby!"

So I laughed and said loudly to Meg's teacher, standing in the loading area, "She probably wants to know who the hell Megan is!"

Yep. I said "HELL" very loudly . . . loud enough for Meg's teacher to hear . . . loud enough for other teachers to hear . . . and loud enough for some kids to hear, I'm certain.

As soon as it came out of my mouth, my eyes bulged and my hand covered my mouth. I had just shouted "HELL" not only at Meg's preschool, but at her church preschool. How mortifying. I was just trying to joke around . . . and instead I humiliated myself.

Luckily, the teachers all got a big laugh out of it. They all laughed as they got Meg in the car and wished us a good weekend. I hope it was honest laughing . . . and that they didn't go back into the building talking about Meg's mom, the potty mouth.

Tuesday, when I dropped Meg off, her teacher got her out of the car and said, "Good Morning, Megan. Oh . . . may I call you Megan?" then turned and winked at me. I just dropped my head with embarrassment. She laughed and told me to have a good morning.

Ugh, humilation stinks.