She doesn’t know she’s been named my Arch-Nemesis in my head. For that matter, she doesn’t really know me nor I her.
But I know, and she knows, and she knows that I know, that she is a consummate Momzilla– several types rolled into one.
The greenness of her scales has shone through her velour jogging suit and fake tan, and though she has her back turned to me, I can see her Momzilla-Action-Eyes-In-The-Back-Of-My-Head™ eyeing me with reptile distaste.
I narrowed my eyes and looked away. I hadn’t come to deal with her.
She thought differently. She was and is, after all, a Momzilla through and through.
Her next move– calculated, predictable– reads straight out of a Momzilla Training Camp Playbook:
She starts the dreaded Coo.
For those of you not familiar with The Coo, it’s very basic:
Whenever a Momzilla wants to highlight just how good a mother she is, how nurturing and sweet and kind, and how much she loves the little children, she will address them in the most schlocky and condescending manner known to man– a syrupy sweet mockingbird song wherein she repeats everything the children around her say and adds small, sensible PSAs as remarks.
The Coo goes something like this. I have placed tildes (~) around certain words for emphasis. These are places in the dialogue where the Momzilla pretends little birds are alighting on her hand and singing her virtues, à la Disney Princess.
Child: I like trucks.
Momzilla: Ooooh! ~Trucks!~ Yes! I ~Like~ trucks too! Aren’t they ~Wonderful~ and ever so ~Big!~? And they are so very ~Useful~ too!
Child: (crashes trucks): TRUCKS GO BOOOM!!!!!!
Momzilla: Oh well, boys ~Will~ be boys! (brightly picks up remains of toy).
Child: Want cookie.
Momzilla: (hands child cookie) Cookies are ~Delicious~, but maybe you should also have a celery stick because they re delicious AND ~Nutritious~ too.
Child: NO CELEWYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!! (cries)
Momzilla: No celery it is!
Because, after all, isn’t a Momzilla a child’s best friend?
Note: This tone of voice is only to be used to address other children– never to be applied to the Momzilla’s own.
Back to our Momzilla at hand, though, I notice that as she goes through her Snow-White-Cavorting-In-The-Woods routine, she can’t help but keep a steady eye on me.
I, who just stepped into her turf for five minutes and who isn’t even talking to her.
I, who tried saying hello, actually, but only got a cold rebuff.
I, who is getting tired of this weird one-upmanship game every time we coincide someplace.
I, who knows as well as she does that her act is bullshit. That she doesn’t care a whit about other kids who aren’t hers, and so should stop trying to parade herself as Mother Teresa in front of a stranger she can’t be bothered to show proper courtesy to.
I’m on to you, Green Monster.
The aphids are first, though.