"Not Me!" Monday

Welcome! Are you feeling embarrased this week for allowing your children to eat their fill of animal crackers for breakfast? Or maybe pretty trashy that in a rush, you answered the door and held an entire conversation with your brother-in-law, bra-less and dressed in your husband's boxers and old t-shirt? Perhaps you're just dying to reveal your utter disgust at your son's inexplicable urge to stand and pee on his brother in the midst of a bath. Whatever the reason, you've come to the right place to divulge the most ridiculous parts of your week, and feel completely normal! "Not Me!" Monday is all about free therapy - being brutally honest about life and living to tell about it.


So today, MckMama (inventor of "Not Me!" - bless her!) suggested we focus on our kiddos. Hence the "Not My Child" Monday logo. I had to chuckle at this, because nearly all of my "Not Me!" Mondays feature something ridiculous my kids and I were involved in during the past week. So, while there is a different logo this week, I'll continue in my hybrid tradition of "Not Me!" and "Not My Kids!" Here we go...


Not 24 hours after we arrived home from vacation last week (and only 48 hours before Kyler left for FL for a week), our A/C stopped working. As in, running all day, not a blessed whisper of cool air coming out of the vents, our-house-was-85-degrees-at-night stopped working. However, as I am completely in control of my emotions at all times - especially when pregnant - this did not turn me into one giant, grumpy gargoyle of a wife. Truly, it wasn't me who insisted my poor husband drive nearly 1.5 hours round trip to his sister's house (after a long night meeting at church even) to retrieve several standing fans, so I could finally get the boys cooled down and to sleep (and it most certainly was not nearly midnight when I did...)

We did call a friend who works in heating and air conditioning the next morning. He told us the inner coil had likely frozen, and told us what to do to try and get it working again. It worked, (we ran the fan for several hours), and I daresay our A/C is working better than it has for months. Just so you know, our friend did not also say this was likely all because of buildup on the inside of the unit, probably because of poor air filter changing habits. What?!? Couldn't be. We are so super on top of any and all home maintenance and improvement projects that we change our air filters every 30 days on the nose. Particularly since we all have nasty allergies, it would be darn right foolish for us to let something so simple go undone. Ahem.

Moving on. I was on my own this past week, since Kyler left with another group of teens and adults for Daytona, FL and the Student Life summer conference. I certainly did not spend the first two days he was gone moping and throwing myself the world's largest pity-party, behaving as if he had left me high-and-dry so he could frolic on the beach with a bunch of bikini models. Excuse me. I never selfishly place myself and my needs above his ministering and introducing Jesus to the teens in our church. Besides, why would I want to put myself through the ensuing, inevitable rebuke from my Father? Geez. I am so much more spiritually mature than all of that, and I guard my heart much more carefully, so as to never let such pitying thoughts creep in and cripple me for days on end. And I'm certainly not so foolish as to publish that admission on my blog so you are all aware of that particular weakness...

Oh, and the bit above about feeling trashy that "in a rush, you answered the door and held an entire conversation with your brother-in-law, bra-less and dressed in your husband's boxers and old t-shirt?" Yeah. That was not based on personal experience. Completely made that one up.

And now, on to the "Not My Kids!" portion of this post...

During the week, turns out the Devil was in fact trying desperately to exploit that weakness to throw myself lavish pity-parties, taking advantage of every opportunity to drive me to my wit's end. I wrote about it here. One evening mid-week, after a particularly harrowing bedtime routine, I thought I had finally gotten the boys to bed successfully. Sure, there were still the allotted number of bumps, "gooodniiiiight Mooooommmy!"s (how do you make that plural? Anyway...) and mutterings heard over the monitor, but generally, I felt they were finally in bed. So when it began thundering, lightening, and something started banging around downstairs as if an intruder were trying to get in through my kitchen window, it was not me whose adrenaline began pumping so hard I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest.

(Aside: I do not have a ridiculously overactive imagination, and do not routinely dream about such scenarios over and over again before I fall asleep at night, particularly when home alone.)

So after I decided I'd quit cowering in the little computer alcove downstairs and check out the noises in the kitchen, I did not find that the "kitchen intruder" was in fact my own 22-month-old son, who had, apparently, shimmied over the gate in his bedroom doorway, climbed down the stairs in complete darkness, and was now happily stomping on some ants who had found their way into our kitchen. (Another aside: our kitchen is crumb-free at all times, so I really have no clue what those little dudes were looking for...) I did not feel completely ridiculous for being so startled by my own toddler.

As previously mentioned, Satan was really using every opportunity to sneak in and wreak havoc on my mid-week pledge to have a new perspective on Kyler's absence and the week in general. So it really shouldn't have surprised me when, precisely two seconds after I served his favorite meal of yogurt, cereal, and fruit, Cam began heaving fistfuls on the floor, while Kayden simultaneously peed enough to fill his chair and cause a small lake of urine to accumulate on the floor. But it did. However, as mentioned above, I am in complete control of my emotions at all times, so I certainly did not commence sobbing as I cleaned it all up. Not me!

CAUTION to those with weak stomachs (or without small toddlers...) The following "Not My Kid!" post is positively revolting. Really. Continue reading at your own risk.

On our last day on Cape Cod, Kyler had taken a turn escorting Kayden to the bathroom while I was preoccupied with Cameron. Suddenly, from the other side of the house, I hear, "Kayden! NO! GROSS! Ugh! HEATHER...how do we disinfect the INSIDE of Kayden's mouth? Blech! Ugh..."

So right now, you're thinking..."Okay, he was in the bathroom, so he must've [insert pretty disgusting possibility here]." I assure you, I did the same thing on my way to the bathroom to help. But really, I'm pretty imaginative, and it didn't ever occur to me that he could have...

...leaned over while Kyler was wiping his bottom and started LICKING the outside rim of the toilet bowl.

Done gagging? Do I even need to elaborate about the possibilities...? I'll give you a minute to compose yourself. It took me several to stop the involuntary convulsions. Blech. Ugh. Gross.

And finally, toward the end of the week, I took the boys out on a bargain grocery store shopping marathon. We hit three in one trip - amazing accomplishment. Anyway, Kayden is becoming more and more imaginative with each passing day, and he keeps us in stitches with the things he comes up with. Unfortunately, not everyone can appreciate my toddler's creative genius, and it can often come across as a little....special, if you get my drift.

On this particular day, Kayden had woken up and decided he was going to be a cow. I'd grown accustomed to this routine, as he began imagining he was a different sort of animal each day while we were in Texas. What did surprise me was the lovely little "additions" he added to this routine as I was trying to complete our grocery expedition. Please keep in mind, it was not my child who, in his loudest and most dramatic voice possible, "MOOO-ed" at nearly EVERY person we passed as we shopped. I'm sure the sweet old ladies who stopped, and smiling said, "why hello there!" were not taken aback in the least when my 3-year-old screwed up his little face and bellowed a hearty "MOOOO!!" right back at them. And I'm pretty certain I must have misinterpreted the look the teenaged cashier shot her co-worker after she greeted my kids and the one out of the cart responded heartily - in the same manner as previously - and then began trotting (galloping? quickly meandering? what do cows do?) around and around the cart and the aisle beyond as she rang up our groceries. If the look had been in reference to any other kid, I would have thought she meant to say, "Uhhh. Wow. This kid has issues." But no. Not my kid!

Oh, and I forgot to mention that as I put him in his car seat before we headed home, Kayden looked up at me adoringly, (straining his neck to see around my large, pregnant abdomen, which I certainly have not in the least been feeling self-conscious or generally "ugh" about as I waddle around in these last weeks...) and said, "WOW! You're a BIIIIIGGG MOMMA COW! Moooooooooooo!"

Geez, Kayden. Thanks for that.


So how did your week go? I'd love to hear about all of the things you didn't do this week! Scroll down and click on the comment link to leave a note.


"Not Me!" Monday is an incredibly fun, blogging carnival started by MckMama on her blog, my charming kids. Basically, it's where we all can be brutally honest about the ridiculous things that will inevitably happen in everyday life.

1 comment:

Mara said...

WOW! You had me laughing with your not me monday post! Boys will be boys- although I am not sure how you can recover from the toilet incidence!