Whoops

It's just been that kind of week. I can't believe I haven't posted since Wednesday. I can't believe I just misspelled Wednesday the first time I typed it.

I'm so full. I ate way too much at dinner.

In case you hadn't noticed yet, this will be a stream-of-consciousness post. Or, as a former English teacher used to call it, "verbal diarrhea."

Speaking of high school, for some reason I was reminded tonight of French class. And The Countdown. We had a countdown to the end of class. Class ended at 1:27 pm, and The Countdown began at 1:00 pm. I don't know why I remember any of this. Also, when things got really dreary, we had a countdown to The Countdown.

I loved French class, which makes you wonder about The Countdown. Peer pressure, guys.

I spent most of the morning grading papers. It was...interesting.

I'm going to go sit in a warmer room, and relax now.

A Very Manly Wordless Wednesday

Don't You Want One?

I want one. A baby one, of course. Who has room for a full-grown elephant? That would be silly.

I just asked Wiggle Man what sound an elephant makes. He did the tractor sound. Not far off, I think. Of course, this is the same child that occasionally thinks Mommy's name is "Wooooof." We don't ask.

Not Me! Monday Again

Once again, it's Monday morning, and thanks to MckMama, we can all purge ourselves from the memories of things we didn't do this week. I give you my weekly offering:

This week:

*I did not repeatedly smell Wiggle Man's rear and exclaim "OOOOOH...SMELLY!" simply because it sent him into a fit of belly laughs. Every time. I certainly wouldn't subject myself to that kind of odourous torture for a laugh.

*I do not put Wiggle Man on display every time company comes over, hoping he'll demonstrate for our guests his vast knowledge of animal sounds and body parts. (For although he's not actually speaking yet, he can mimick--on cue--the sounds of a handful of animals, and show you his nose. And ears. And tongue. You get the point.) But I would never use my child like a trained monkey. Never.

*I do not tell Wiggle Man that my work-out time (thank you, Tony Horton and your magical 10 minutes) is actually dancing time, in the hopes that he'll think it's fun and not whine the entire time.

*I did not try to explain to Wiggle Man that Mommy took away his ball because sometimes we do things that have consequences. I mean, who uses a 12-letter word with a child whose current vocabulary consists of "woof", "quack", and a handful of other animal/machine sounds?

*I did not splurge on a fresh, Amish-made donut this weekend. And certainly not on the same day I got some rich, creamy chocolate milk from my local "micro-moo-ery." (Their clever wordplay, not mine. Thank you, Trickling Springs.) And while I'm on the food portion of my NM!M, there was not a whole lotta pasta involved from our favourite Italian place. And there certainly wasn't blush sauce piled on top.

Once again, friends, a weekly listing of things it's possible I did. But I didn't. Of course.

My Son Gave Me A Black Eye

I'm not kidding. Or being metaphorical. We're not talking a full-on shiner or anything, but there's some nice bruising, especially on the inside of my eye, by my nose.

Picture it. America. 2009. (You have to imagine that line in a Sophia Petrillo voice for it to be funny.)

So there we were, having one of our daily (if not more often) kissy fights. Wiggle Man, being a rough and tumble boy, likes to combine "rasslin" with his "luvin". So he'll jump on you, then give you a slobbery kiss or two. Or twenty. It depends on how affectionate he's feeling.

He's also discovered head-butting.

Sometimes, instead of a kiss, that's what you get. And that's what I got last night, just before dinner. Smack dab in the middle of my face. I had a slightly swollen lip at dinner,which hurt like the dickens at first, let me tell you. It hurt so much I paid little attention to the headache I had. Until my sister-in-law commented that my eyes were pretty bloodshot.

The bruising appeared by the time I went to bed. Nice.

Cover-up really is a girl's best friend.

Wordless Wednesday

The Not Me! Mondays

As always, head on over to MckMama's for the best in Not Me! Monday-ness. Check out her weekly confessionals, and don't forget to visit Mr. Linky to see tons of other NM!Mers.

This week:

*I did not start working on this last Monday, saving updates to my drafts. This was not done because I'm so forgetful I can't remember all my shortcomings (which really helps in the self-esteem department, I'll admit.)

*I did not pre-moistened facial cloths to wipe down my bathroom sink. And the floor. And certainly not the toilet.

*Speaking of toilets, I have never, ever purchased bathroom cleaning products because the animated scrubbies were cute. Not I. And the fact that advertising works so well on me is definitely not a running joke in our household.

*I did not succumb to an ad on the sidebar of a website I was using. See above.

*I did not resort to opening a free sample of in-shower lotion with my teeth. Because I was already in said shower. And those things get darn slippery. Seriously--free sample makers out there--invent something that can be opened in the shower without the use of teeth. Because after all that, I still couldn't get the thing open.


*I am not chowing down on a bag of Cinnamon and Sugar Pita Chips while I type this.

*I do not think I have Super-Mommy senses, just because I could "sense" that the cup Wiggle Man was playing with was not actually empty.

Well, there you have it. Proof positive that I am not perfect. Or, at least, I wouldn't be perfect if I did any of those things. Which, of course, I didn't.