Not Me! Monday

So, last Tuesday, Jax was with his Nana, and I got the chance to enjoy a toddler-free lunch. If you have never had a toddler (or have never had a toddler and a baby on the way), you can’t fathom how exhausting it is to order/entertain/cut/feed/sing/entertain/serve/clean/maybe eat when you are in a restaurant with a toddler monster. Alone, I am able to choose where and what I would like to eat, without having to inevitably share. And here is where my Not Me! experience began.

Of course, since I am 26 weeks pregnant, I chose somewhere and something organic and healthy for lunch, right? Because I would never go to a questionably-clean establishment such as Friendly’s and order something all pregnant women have been forbidden to eat–a hot dog! Gasp! No, not me! And I certainly didn’t enjoy a side of fries with that and a vanilla Fribble. Yummmmm….nope! I’m sure in a situation like that I would always get something walnut/cranberry/spinach lettuce/tofu because I would never endanger my unborn child so callously by eating a forbidden hot dog! Without even a side salad! I wouldn’t even dream of it.
And the next day, when I took Jax to buy some new shoes for our trip to San Diego (because I would never spend money we don’t have–nope! Not me!), I would never go to Panera, look at all the healthy options, look at my 15-month-old son and say, “Do you want to go to Friendly’s?” and then take him out of said healthy establishment, put him back in his carseat, pull him back out again in sub-freezing weather, just to enjoy the heavenly Peanut Butter Cup Sundae that I had contemplated ordering the day before but didn’t since I had already had a vanilla Fribble (milkshappe/frappe/ice cream beverage for all you non-Friendly’s-goers….like me). Never! Not me! I would never share a sundae that I have since researched has 54 grams of fat with my toddler son.
Not me! We would have definitely stayed at Panera and shared the above-mentioned healthy salad thing. Definitely.
Oh, and when I was at Friendly’s, on these two consecutive days, I would never wear the same old Red Sox sweatshirt that seems to double as my jacket nowadays, which probably had dribbles of ketchup from my illegal hot dog and and whipped topping from my entire-day’s-worth-of-calories-sundae; not me! And when I went to pay, because my son was sobbing over the fact that the most amazing treat he had ever indulged in was finished, the manager would never recognize me from the day before. Never! He would have to have mistaken me for someone else: someone who does not care one iota for her unborn child or her toddler monster. In fact, he should call DSS on that woman. I would have called for him, actually. From my seat in Panera, munching on my super-healthy, organic, and dressing-on-the-side salad. Because I would never be caught dead in Friendly’s, ever, let alone two days in a row, wearing the same thing.
Nope! Not me!
Glad we’re on the same page.
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