"Not Me!" Monday

Welcome! Are you feeling guilty for quickly sneaking away from the baby food aisle after your toddler had an accident in the grocery store? Wondering if you're ever going to have a wardrobe that contains even one blouse that isn't "decorated" with stains from all of your beloved children? Perhaps you just gave in and let your children watch seven episodes of "Handy Manny"...in a row. No worries! "Not Me!" Monday was written just for you. It frees me up to admit my many imperfections and vent about the absolutely ridiculous things that are my everyday. Enjoy at my expense, and join in the fun by commenting below!

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I finally went grocery shopping this week. Hooray for having food! In an effort to fit everything into our fridge, I began cleaning out the leftovers in the back. I reached waaaaaay into the back. I did not discover a Pyrex dish of leftovers from the month after Callan was born (I'll let you do the math on that one). And upon said discovery, I certainly wasn't so disgusted at the slimy sludge and seventeen kinds of mold that I saw growing inside that I just wrapped the whole she-bang in three garbage bags and chunked it in the trash without so much as cracking the lid. I know, the cure for some kind of communicable disease was probably growing in there. And a Pyrex dish?! So wasteful. Thank goodness I'm not so lazy that I won't go to great lengths - even don a hazmat suit - in an effort to save one revolting Pyrex dish. I cherish each one. (Even though Pyrex was apparently the gift of choice the year we were married. And picture frames. Lots of picture frames...) Anyway, not to worry. It wasn't me.

And it definitely isn't me who just realized I allowed myself to become so overwhelmed by the busyness of our "holidays" this year that I completely forgot to give my husband his Christmas present. Jiminy Cricket, would I be embarrassed if that happened to me!

Speaking of Christmas presents and Christmas, I guess I forgot to mention that my parents never made it up from Texas for the holidays like they had originally planned. I have a special needs aunt, and she went into the hospital the day before they were planning to fly out. So did my grandfather - totally unrelated. So, we all thought it best they just delay their visit and take care of things at home. (Both my aunt and grandfather are well and home now.) But boy, did they get the presents they planned to bring with them mailed up here in a jiffy. We had them before New Year's. Surely, theirs aren't still sitting on our dining room table, like the  workers all just up and left the factory in the middle of the assembly line. Nope. Uh-uh.

As I write this, I am not single-handedly demolishing the beef jerky my dad bought for my husband for Christmas. Not me!

My oldest son is very much a typical firstborn; he's a parent-pleaser and rules-follower.  So clearly it was someone else's child who had the brilliant idea yesterday to climb into the infant's gliding bassinet and ride it like a surfboard.

Cam needed a little time away from his brother one morning, so I sat him down at the kitchen table to draw while I did some dishes and cleaned up. Seeing as how I was in the same (very small) room with him, he certainly couldn't have pulled this off (with permanent markers that I didn't give him) without my knowing...

Not my son!

My husband has such a way with words. In fact, check out the sweet little conversation we had just a few days ago:

Me: "Why do I feel like this? I'm so tired and bummed out. What's wrong with me?"

Husband: "You didn't run yesterday."

Me: "Yes, I did."

Husband: "Oh yeah, you did, 'cause it was smelly downstairs."

Me: "Thanks for that, Babe." 

It was not after this conversation that I had the sudden urge to blog all about my husband's verbal faux pas. Nope! I wouldn't poke fun at my husband on my blog for everyone to read. Not me! (Shhhh! And click here to read it.)

My mother-in-law experienced her own "Not Me!" moment yesterday afternoon. Kayden woke up from his nap downstairs, and announced that he needed to use the bathroom. After retrieving like fourteen of his cars (you never do know how long you'll be in there, and well, you have to prepare to be entertained) he headed for the bathroom. About a minute later, my mother-in-law assures me that she did not hear my angelic, potty-trained-since-July three-year-old exclaim from around the corner, "Grammy, I'm just going to stay right here. It's very slippery now." Not my child!

The boys and I made some more delicious cookies this week (click here for our pumpkin-oatmeal-raisin recipe...yum!). They are adorable little bakers and love to get into the kitchen and help. Rest assured though, they aren't the least bit distracting. Nope. Not even when one of them smacks the other on the head, and that one starts screaming his brains out, scaring the baby and causing him to start crying uncontrollably, all happening just as the oven begins beeping loudly, signaling that the cookies need to come out of the oven, like, now. And I can juggle it all. Which is why when the timer went off, I did not hold the older (crying) children out of the way with my foot and my rear end, simultaneously bouncing the (crying) babe in one arm (facing away from the oven, thankyouverymuch) while retrieving cookies with the other arm. And I was in total control, mind you, when, upon turning to close the oven the rest of the way, the (formerly) screaming baby, in a perfect arc that most can only dream of, spit his pacifier directly into the oven. I did not yelp in astonishment, chunk the baby down into a seat, and plunge my mitt-covered hand into the oven to retrieve it. And certainly, I managed to get it out on the first try. I did not have to grab over and over again, finally prying the melting binky off of the heating element. And I know the oven mitt didn't begin to spark and smoke as I touched the element repeatedly in my rescue attempts. And I absolutely didn't wash the now melted pacifier off with dish soap and stick it back in the crying baby's mouth, singe marks and all. Nope. Not me!

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"Not Me!" Monday is an incredibly fun blogging carnival started by MckMama. In a nutshell, it's where we all can be open about the ridiculous things that happen in our everyday lives. Head on over to her blog, where you can read heaps of other great "Not Me!" stories. Or, join in the "Not Me!" fun and leave a comment about all of the things you didn't do this week!