At one point this week, amidst all the coughing and sickliness, I most certainly did not think to myself, "Holy amniotic fluid, Batman! I think my water just broke!" Only to realize a few seconds later that I had just peed myself. And if that ever were to happen, there's no way I would write about it on my blog. That would be so embarrassing.
I definitely have not spent way too much time this past week thinking about how gross my house is but seriously contemplating whether or not I can wait for the "deep clean" I have planned for the weekend before the baby comes (I love you, mommy), so I only have to clean once. I mean, it would be totally disgusting to wait 4 more weeks to clean my house when there are already rings in the toilets and scum in the tub. I would never do that...not me.
At my first Non-Stress Test on Thursday, they definitely did not zap the baby with some crazy apparatus to get him to start moving. Furthermore, I did not secretly think, "Muah-ha-ha! Take that baby! That'll teach you not to move, you little..." That would be so non-motherly and vindictive of me. I did not then consider how to sneak the zapper out of the office in my purse, only to realize that the nurse had taken it out of the room with her when she left. Maybe she thought she saw the crazy look in my eyes that most certainly was not there.
At this same non-stress test, I definitely did not look down to see this:
I surely don't have to tie my shoe laces on the sides now, because putting on my shoes like this is impossible...
... so that this is now the new norm.
That would be so pathetic.
I definitely did not make Sonic Chocolate milkshakes the staple of my diet this week, claiming that they were the only thing that made my throat feel better. That would be so nutritionally irresponsible of me.
And I most certainly did not read this on the new medicines they've given me this past week...
... and think to myself, "What the heck," and throw it all back like it was the greatest thing since sliced bread, just because I was so miserable I could barely stand it. I would never put my needs before the baby's. Not me.
My wonderful husband most assuredly did not look at our dog on Friday morning as I sat on the couch, after my fourth night of very little sleep - hair a complete mess, snotty nosed, puffy eyed, chapped lips, breathing like something out of a horror movie - and say to him, "I married your mommy for her looks, Deac. She has very little going on up here (pointing to his head)." He would definitely not do that.
And there's no way I've been joking around to people that I have the gestation period of an elephant (without subtracting the 10 week "break" I had between pregnancies, I'll have been pregnant from August of 2007 to almost March of 2009), and then in an effort to figure out how long their gestation period actually is (22 months!!!), I certainly didn't run across some very scandalous photos of elephants in extremely compromising positions.
There's no way that I had the worst hot flash ever one morning last week, and so decided that I absolutely did not need a coat over my light-weight shirt nor would it be a good idea to bring one with me. I didn't then have to load car seats and little girls into and out of my car (while they wore snow jackets, hats, and mittens) or walk a block from my car to my job at Young Life in 20 degree weather, while being sick, all without a coat, long after the hot flash had passed. That would be so stupid.
I did try to hang a heavy wooden frame on the wall in the living room following the directions that said to start a small hole, use an electric screw driver to twist in the plastic anchor, and then twist the knob into that anchor. After all of that was a total bust and I had put a huge hole in my painted and textured wall, I did not, however, completely give up (after having made a Lowes trip to buy a new kind of anchor) and just glue the nice fancy hanging knob to the wall using some kind of super-duty concrete adhesive. No way, man. Not me.
And finally, I did not forget most of these posts from the time I thought of them in one room to the time it took me to find a piece of paper and pen to write them down (approximately 30 seconds). It didn't then take me 3 days to remember them and finish up this post. That would be an indication that I have a horrible memory or that the growing of a child somehow impairs my ability to think, which we all know is not true.