Yes, it's time for another edition of "Not Me Monday."
It is not me who thinks all week of things I need to put here, then when I actually sit down at the computer, can't remember them. Nope, no senior moments here.
It is not me who planned the next month of activities for my co-op class last night. I haven't known I was teaching this class since May, and I'm not all about planning, so there would really be no reason for me to be cramming at the last moment. It is also not me who revised the syllabus for the class I'm teaching for the seventeenth time. Nope, I'm a planner. I make a plan and stick with it, and never change anything at the last minute.
I'm not referring to Jason's Deli as the kitchen currently, because I really would not prefer to just eat every meal there. (And just why is it that I have the same foods in my kitchen that they have on their salad bar, and yet when I make a salad there it's TONS better than when I make it at home? With the exact same stuff? Except their roasted red pepper hummus, which is better than anything I've ever bought ... and we won't even speak of the one time I tried to make it myself other than to say that is an experience that will NEVER EVER be repeated.)
I did not leave my car in the driveway last night almost completely empty of gas, planning to do that on Monday morning. There would be absolutely no sense in me doing that. We're never rushing around all fussing at each other to get to co-op on time on Monday mornings, so it would really be no bother at all to swing by the gas station to fill up. Plus I'm a huge fan of touching those gas nozzles and getting who knows what on my hands and that smell that just doesn't seem to come off. (Yes, let's add this to the list of chores that I will happily pass back off to my husband when he gets back, hopefully to never pick up on my own again!)
Oohh, I remember!!
My son has not learned to insult his sisters. Not my sweet little angel. He has not thought of the worst insult his little four year old mind can come up with, and does not torture his sister with it daily. And, his sister does not LOSE HER MIND over it. She is capable of ignoring it, and I'm reasonably certain that it would go away if she did. My dear son has not learned, at the ripe old age of four, how to push his sister's buttons.
Oh? You're curious as to what the insult is?
Let's just say, it being "not me Monday" and all, that my son would never call his sister a "poo poo diaper." And she would never completely FREAK OUT upon hearing those words. (And I would never discipline him and then have to turn my back because I'm giggling at the fact that my girls would never come up with something so ... gross ... with which to insult each other. They called each other meanie and things like that.)
Just another fun-filled week in the life around here ...