Not Me Mondays

A few months back, I came across a blog that had me rolling on the floor with laughter and tears streaming down my face. The blogger had a weekly post every Monday entitled "Not Me Mondays" in which her failings as a mother and wife throughout her week were publicly confessed. I didn't have a clue if this was a well-known thing in the blogging world, but as I read through multiple posts of hers, I fell instantly in love with her uncensored humor and brutal honesty. Who wouldn't laugh at a young mother referring to her breasts as baby feeding mountains and also decides to tell her two young girls that the odd body part on their new naked baby brother is his "knobber hangy thing" made of extra elbow skin. HIL-ARI-OUS!!! I became a fan and decided I want to test out my own version of Not Me Mondays. So, here's my first whack at it regarding recent occurrences...

I did not complain when Jake talked me into buying a whole package of E.L. Fudge cookies, even though I said no because I didn't want to get stuck eating the whole package...then I really did not complain when I came home one day to find the last row of cookies eaten and angrily announce that those were mine! Nope, I'm always honest when I say I don't want treats all to myself...I know the importance of sharing.

I did not laugh when I asked one of the 4-year-old boys in our primary class to ask the girl sitting next to him for her name but he instead steals the drawing paper out of her hand and hands it to me with an accomplished look on his face...which results in the girl instantly starting a cry fest...which then results in another primary teacher coming over to console her because I was giggling and not attending to her needs. Nope, I'm a great care-taker of children and know how to react properly when a child's feelings are hurt.

I did not banish Gage from the couch during Air Bud after discovering that the stinky feet smell that had occasionally but brutally pierced my nose during the course of an hour was coming from his little poop-stink feet and not from my old, sweaty slippers. Not me. I love everything about my stepchild including his smelly paws, and after all...if they had been my smelly feet, I would have also excused myself politely from the couch to sit on the floor. I'm always thinking of others.

I do not get angry with Jake every time he lets one off by me, contaminating my clean airspace and forcing me to say things like, "Are you kidding me?!" or "Put a freakin' cork in it, farty pants!" I always treat my husband and his flatulence with respect, knowing that it's a common bodily function we all have...except myself. Never.

I did not scarf down two homemade buttermilk waffles that Jake made me and then also stuff my face with spoonfuls of mac n' cheese that he had made for Gage because I knew that fresh is the best and didn't want to miss out. Not me...I know when to stop eating when Ive already had a meal and am especially conscious about what foods don't mix.

I also do not buy "special" boxes of macaroni and cheese like the shells or Phineas & Ferbs characters for myself and then make Gage eat the regular boxes and not "mom's kind"...and then assure him that they all taste the same and that it doesn't matter.

I do not get mad at Gage when he talks in baby talk, even though on an almost daily basis I excitedly wave to the "deersies" or "moo-cows" every time I see them out in the meadow on my way home from work. Nope, double-standards are certainly frowned upon in my book.

I did not enjoy challenging Jake and Gage to a round of Mario Kart, knowing that I'm the superior gamer, and then get flustered when Gage had beaten me on several rounds that I legitimately had to compete for. Not me. I praise my kid's achievements and acknowledge how awesome it is when an 8-year-old beats tough mom.

I did not allow Gage to watch Robin Hood: Men in Tights only to discover that he laughed hysterically when boobs were mentioned...and then days later happily recapped the funny scene to a fellow friend from his primary class that was invited to play at our house for the first time. Nope, good mothers understand that PG-13 movies are strictly for mature, older children so you don't have to explain that those are naughty words which don't need to be repeated to other innocent church-going children who probably just dubbed you as the dirt-ball kid that moved in.

I did not pretend to ignore Gage when he asked me what a "breast plate" was while hearing it on How To Train Your Dragon...and then when he repeated himself after making sure he had my attention, I did not act out my best confused face and say, "Hmm...I don't know." Because, you know, it may be ok that my child knows what boobies are but to have him learn what breasts are as well is definitely crossing the line.

I definitely did not consider buying a boys size XL Tony Hawk shirt for myself while clothes shopping for Gage because I liked the teal and gray stripes on it so much and decided that no one would know if I were to wear a shirt made for boys 8+. After all, it worked when I did that years ago at Gap Kids with a hoodie...and at Disneyland for a Mickey Mouse shirt...and at the U of U bookstore for a student T-shirt. Nope, I know to only buy adult clothing that is sold in the female section.

I did not make Jake roll his eyes and make a face that says "Wow, what did I get myself into?!" when I made him come sit by me on the couch during the love songs in Lion King and Aladdin on TV so I could sit in his lap and sing mushily to him. No way...I do not get googly-eyed during Disney movies and then feel the need to take out my lovey-ness on my husband. That's just weird.