Not Me Monday

Last Monday, I did not skip writing my usual "Not Me Monday" post, in favor of a nap. Nope, not me!

So this week, because I am very dedicated to my blogging, I will shower upon you the fateful, funny things that have occurred.

I am not in love obsessed with ziploc baggies. You would never find a drawer in my kitchen with three different sizes of baggies to suite my storage needs. While shopping at Costco this past week, I did not do a ziploc happy dance in the middle of the isle when I saw their jumbo packs of baggies were on sale. Once the happy dance was complete, I stopped for a moment to try and remember what size I actually needed. Ok, I didn't stop for very long, because we all know how Mommy Brain works... or doesn't. I was pretty convinced that I was almost out of my freezer ziplocs, and still had plenty of sandwich ones at home. I did not continue to do a little happy shuffle the rest of my shopping trip, over the $3 reduction of price on my freezer ziploc's. Once we arrived home, and while dutifully putting away my groceries, I did not, to my dismay, realize that my pantry was fully stocked with freezer ziploc's. I do not only have one box of sandwich ziploc's in my pantry, and 12 boxes of freezer size. I am currently not set for life in the freezer ziploc department. Nope, not me.

I did not feel so inspired after watching last weeks "So You Think You Can Dance" episode, feel the need to reenact the beautiful dances. I did not find The Husband singing Bryan Adams "I Will Be Right Here Waiting For You" (as one of the couples just finished dancing to this song) in the kitchen after the show was over. The need to dance did not arise in me so strong, of course there was no help from the glass or two of wine that I had just consumed. It was not me who proceeded to twirl around and around, empty wine glass in hand, into The Husband's strong, singing arms. We did not hear the crushing sound of glass as my twirl stumble ended right into his chest. We froze for a moment, registering what had just happened. Upon looking down, we did not find an empty wine glass, still in my hand, shattered to a million pieces. It did not cut my hand/fingers in three separate places

Of course, it was not me who recounted the above story to the bank teller when she asked me why I had so many band-aids on my hand. Nope, not me!

We are not the kind of parents who would ever let our son run around outside, naked as the day he was born, in the front yard for all the neighbors and passing traffic to see. Of course, our son did not repeatedly announce to the world, "Look! I'm naked!!!". Nope, not us!!