Next Stop: ComicCon

First off, I'm sure you've been on pins and needles all day wondering how I survived Case of the Mondays Tuesday. It was a struggle to drag my ass out of bed this morning, but I'm happy to report that I made it in on time AND added every pay day for 2012 to my Microsoft Outlook calendar. Oh, and I did some actual productive things too - but I won't bore you with those details.

P.S. Quick shout out to my awesome neighbor, Jodi: On second thought, maybe remind me on Sunday if you're going to yell "Happy Dumb Monday" at me as I'm leaving for work on Monday. Otherwise we risk the chance of me peeing my pants. Nobody likes the kid that smells like pee...

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Post 3 in my NaBloPoMo list will liken being an irritated mom to being the Incredible Hulk.

If you decided to read this post because you were intrigued by the reference to ComicCon, I'll go ahead and lay my cards on the table: I'm going to bluff my way through the hero talk. I know very little about comics. You got to know when to hold 'em, and know when to fold 'em. 

For the record, I'm also clueless about gambling, but I really wanted to add some Kenny Rogers to the mix. Songs that rednecks love to sing while drunk? I know a lot about that subject.

Back to the geekery...

I had to stop at the grocery store on my way home from work tonight to pick up milk. Many dollars later I pulled up the drive, ready to come in and see my babies, both arms laden with bags and my 20 ton purse. 

Peeking through the window, I can see that the TV is on - and apparently every light in the house as well - and I can hear the kids laughing from somewhere within. It put a grin on my face to hear their happiness...and then I went to open the door to find it locked. Dead-bolted even!

And that's when I turned into the Incredible Hulk.

Mind you, my knowledge of the Hulk begins with green and ends with "You won't like me when I'm angry!" People don't like me when I'm angry either. We're pretty much the same person, me & the Incredible Hulk.

I do my research so that people won't think I'm an idiot. Laugh with me, not at me.

Back to the story: My darling hubs friggin knew that I'd be home at any minute and that there was a pretty good chance that I'd be hauling in bags when I got home (because I stop at the grocery store or Walmart almost every night). I'm used to coming home and accidentally ramming my shoulder into the door because I didn't think it would be locked. I'm used to having my hands full and still opening the door on my own to the tune of "Oh hey! I didn't know you were home already; want some help?" Hell, I'm even used to unloading everything onto the front porch, and then Chris taking bags in as I make trips back and forth from the car.

Tonight, it just hit me wrong and I had a hissy fit right there on the porch. Door's locked? Fine. Fuck it.

Everything I'd been carrying (purse, giant package of bedtime pull-ups, bag filled with apples & 2 bunches of bananas, the mail) got unceremoniously dumped right there in between the screen door and the interior door. Bags spilled over, but I didn't care. 

I marched back to the car and loaded up with the rest of my bags, and the 2 stupid gallon jugs of milk, and flung them up onto the porch and into the pile of purchases. Then, I took a deep calming breath to help compose myself and calmly walked up onto the porch (feet precisely positioned to keep from smashing the fruit and random treasures hidden deep in my handbag) and unlocked the door.

And that, friends, is when I remembered that I'd bought bleach today too. Bleach that was still sitting in my car. I swear, mentally, I totally turned into the Hulk - big, green rippling muscles and tattered clothing shredded by the sheer force of my anger. Same hair even!

The resemblance is certainly uncanny.

Within a few minutes of actually being inside (bags of crap, as well) I was no longer a mean, green destructive monster. I hugged the kids, avoided the welcome home feel-up from my husband, and then made supper.

I'm a good person, really. Unless I'm mad...then I'm a 5'4 mother of 3 who thinks she's the Incredible Hulk.

Different skin color = only way to tell us apart. And I wear a shirt. Always.