You ask the waiter to box up three bites of food. Never mind that your leftover dinner isn't even enough food for a satisfying lunch the next day--you just can't stand to see it go to waste.
You prepare (and freeze) meals ahead. It's your Sunday afternoon ritual. You'll save on takeout and your family will eat healthfully (score!).
You say, "It's a good thing you're cute!" No matter what your kid does, like purposely dumping flour on the floor or peeing next to the toilet instead of in it, this is your automatic response.
You do the 1-2-3 count. Your kid ignores you when you say it's time to go to bed? You start counting. He won't brush his teeth? You count again. Hey, it works.
You drive a minivan. Sure, yours has remote-control doors (you were bragging about them at your mom's group last week, remember?). But don't kid yourself: That minivan is still your mom's car.
You wear holiday sweaters (not ironically). And, yes, you've even been tempted to wear one on date night.
You love to organize potlucks. You've gotten so good at it that you're thinking of planning a back-to-school one for your kid's new class. (She's praying that you don't, trust us.)
The Weight Watchers binder is your bible. It's how you lost the baby weight...and now you count points before you eat anything.
You're proud of your Tupperware set. It's got color-coded lids and it's stackable.
You don't understand Twitter...or Instagram...or SnapChat. In fact, even changing your Facebook account's privacy settings is out of your comfort zone.
You can cook anything in your CrockPot. Vanilla-pudding cake, anyone?
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