Not Me! Monday

Uh-oh, it's that time again. Time to spill my guts without actually spilling them, if you know what I mean. Here goes. 

• I was not secretly (or perhaps not-so-secretly) ecstatic that my educator husband got two days off of teaching because of the bitter cold just because this meant he could paint the boys' bedroom. I did not put him to work painting on his snow days.

• I did not get all pouty and slightly put-out when he said he would not be able to get all of the painting done over the weekend. This pouting did not happen after he had put in a solid two days of painting.

• I did not let my baby girl lounge around in her pajamas for two days in a row, barring only bath time, after which I immediately changed her into fresh pajamas, just because I didn't have the energy to go through her clothes and admit that she is too big for most of them. Admitting this would mean I would have to organize said outgrown clothes into cute, labeled plastic tubs. Said tubs are not hypothetical. We do not find ourselves in possession of more diaper boxes than plastic tubs at this point in our lives.

• I did not get a wild hair one morning this week and convince myself that I could, in fact, take all three children to Target by myself without succumbing to the frigid temperatures, temper tantrums, or a nervous breakdown. I was not the slightest bit proud when I managed to leave the store unscathed and with all of my children and intended purchases intact.

• I did not take my first extended baby-free date this weekend. This date was not with a girlfriend instead of my doting husband. My doting husband did not stay home with the kids (with a little help from my family). I did not completely fall in love with the symphony and Verdi's Requiem all over again, and I most certainly did not forget about my children for most of the evening.

• Also, I am not still shocked by how cold it can get in Chicago. I did not wear my Cuddl Duds over my pantyhose in order to pass them off as black tights. This plan did not succeed brilliantly.

• I did not stick a straw up my nose at the restaurant where we ate before the symphony.

• I am not that woman who has let her sons' hair get incredibly long and out-of-control just because she cannot bear to cut it and potentially lose the baby curls. My husband did not have to point out that the reason Baylor has been rubbing his head lately is, in fact, because his hair is getting in his eyes and bothering him. Stephen did not then say this makes Baylor looks like "a girl." My sons do not look like wild, hairy, monkey men. Or girls, depending on whom you ask.

• I did not wear my pajamas (with Cuddl Duds underneath!) to my parents' house tonight just because they are so incredibly cozy. Real clothes and shoes other than snow boots do not make me cranky in the wintertime.

• I did not forget that tomorrow is my first time to bring breakfast to my moms' Bible study group meeting. I did not previously have grand plans of cooking a hot casserole or coffeecake. I have not given up these plans in despair (and lateness) and instead succumbed to the idea of buying some donuts in the morning. I am not struggling with perceptions of perfection.

And... I can't think of any more. Not because I'm perfect, mind you. I'm woman enough to admit that. But mainly I'm finished because I'm tired (I did not take a two hour nap this afternoon) and Charlotte's five o'clock feeding time will come all too soon. If you need some more confessional, here's Raechel's from last week to tide you over. And doesn't her blog look great? Her super-talented designer husband, Ryan, did a nice little makeover for her. I am not the slightest bit jealous. I did not show Stephen the design and pointedly hint that he should be like Ryan instead of oh, I don't know, reading books about dead people all the time.

Oh, and finally, I did not successfully convince my husband to read Robin McKinley's only vampire novel this weekend. He did not read it in like a day and a half. I am not the slightest bit smug that I got him to read fiction.