I realized I never wrote a recap of Mother’s Day and because it’s still technically the week of Mother’s Day I’m going to write about it, dammit.

It was lovely, really, although I was highly skeptical when Miss A woke me up at 6:30 and for a nanosecond my mood plummeted from hopeful optimism to crushing reality that it was just another day, but with more calories. I decided to seize the day, however, and the pillow to be precise, as I promptly (and groggily) led her to the couch while she padded along behind me, dragging her favorite toddler-size pillow with the white and pink smocked pillowcase. I covered her with a blanket and crawled back in bed with the hubby. It’s the one guaranteed day of the year I can sleep in and I wasn’t going to miss my opportunity.

I could hear the girls scurrying in the kitchen later that morning trying to contain their excitement about my gifts from the hubby: a beautiful necklace and a Krups espresso maker “wrapped” in the store bag. Finally the hubby could hold them off no longer and they slowly opened the door and then ran up to me waving their handmade colored cards, which are always the best gifts because they are forever a reminder of the innocence of Crayola etched love.

I read Miss C’s card first.

“You are the best. You’re Chunky Mom. You are pretty. You are like a flower.”

Wait a minute.

Chunky?

Then I read Miss A’s card, which was ghost written by Miss C.

“Mom you are the best. You’re Chunky Mom.”

And then it dawned on me…Madagascar II.

The girls love the scene where the groovy big ole pimp daddy hippo Moto Moto is layin’ down the compliments to Gloria the hippo and he says “Oh girl you so chunky” in his sexiest silkiest hippo voice because she is the most beautiful hippo he’s ever seen.

So my girls were paying me a huge compliment.

Now it’s one thing for them to call me chunky, but if hubby walks in and says “Goodness girl you huge!” I may not be so happy.

Enjoy The Chunky.