Not Me Monday is MckMama's buzz over at www.mycharmingkids.com.
She's a fun lady. She's got 4 little babies (4 and under, or 3 and under, can't remember now) and she's a busy lady. And Not Me Monday is her non-confession free-therapy blogfest each week. I love it, because sometimes you just can't admit your craziness to someone else (you know, like... in real life?)
If you've seen a woman that looks like me eating dark chocolate peppermint slab every time she turns around, you certainly haven't seen me! That's another pregnant woman.
I was fully aware of our office administrator's birthday this week. I'm always aware of birthday. The person who discovered his birthday via her Skype and Facebook at 10am on the day was certainly not me. Because I remember people's birthdays. I never forget birthdays. And if I had forgotten a birthday I most certainly would not have had to pull up Publisher, make a birthday card, whisper to each person in the office to sign it, run out and buy a cake, find the candles and matches, and then act as though we knew it was his birthday all along. No way. I'm more prepared than that. But if you had seen that, you'd have to know that since I'm in charge of Events for my organisation, I most certainly would have been able to pull off a birthday party in an hour. If it was me. Which it wasn't.
You also are mistaken if you saw me buy a whole tub of ice cream because my daughter asked for ice cream on a hot day. I could have walked her across the street to buy her a small cone and left well enough alone. I wouldn't have bought a tub of ice cream for $3 just because. I wouldn't have spent every evening since eating bowls of ice cream. Because you see, I'm a very healthy pregnant woman. (Body and SOUL!). I wouldn't eat ice cream every single day.
I also was not secretely delighted to see my husband had also bought ice cream (if he had, it would have been his favorite flavour) so I could keep all of my favorite flavour to myself. Because I didn't buy ice cream, remember?
The above 4 do not all reference cake, ice cream, or chocolate. It's a figment of your imagination. I'm not pregnant with a girl and I'm most certainly not stereotyping my food cravings similar to the Old Wives Tales lists... Definitely not me!
I did not get up at an unreasonable hour Sunday morning to do dishes (like every dish in the house), make macaroni and cheese to take to church, shower, bathe the toddler, and get ready on time. Because I do things before I got to bed. I don't get up in a panic to get things done before church. No way. I'm more prepared than that.
The above 5 do not reference food, for sure.
I did not get three-quarters of the way to church before I remember that I forgot the macaroni and cheese for the potluck church lunch sitting on the counter. I did not forget my husband Bible, which was sitting on the table. I did not say to him as I was putting on my shoes, "Yeah, I'll grab it." I did not fail to remember for another 10 minutes. I did not send my sister two frantic text messages asking her to bring them. I did not have to ask my poor sister to walk into church, hand the food to an elder's wife in the kitchen, and plop my husband's Bible in his lap before leaving to go where she had to be. I'm more on top of it than that. I'd never be that spastic-preggo-brained!
I did not have an argument with someone and actually say, "I feel so stupid, I can't remember specific instances from when I was angry!" I wasn't angry. And I definitely would have been able to remember why I was angry, if I had been. Which I wasn't. Because my brain is not in a constant state of atrophy these days. My brain cells are not shrinking so they can grow my baby. That's a silly idea. And whoever says its scientific fact definitely would not have had a good case study last night concerning me and my misplaced anger.
I did not cut the legs off of a pair of perfectly good maternity jeans simply because I don't like maternity capris here in New Zealand. I wouldn't cut apart a good pair of jeans. Especially not jeans that were a bit too short for me. I could deal with short jeans. Because see, I'm not vain about the way my clothes look. I wouldn't care if part of my ankles show sometimes. I wouldn't care that I can't wear heels. Becuase I don't wear heels when I'm pregnant. That's silly.
I did not find a two dollar coin sitting under the foot on my sewing machine this week. I did not find the other half of the needle sitting beside the machine where my daughter had broken it off. She most certainly knows better than to touch my machine. She did not step on the peddle, after inserting a coin underneath the needle. Because that would have caused the sewing machine needle to break. I did not get grumpy. I did not find it slightly amusing. It was not odd, not in the least. Because it didn't happen. Remember?
And I most certainly did not write this during business hours, while in the office. I'm more dedicated than that.