I often think that I'd like to record some of my more personal thoughts/feelings on my blog, just to get them out in the open and have somewhere to "vent". But I usually think twice about it because I am not sure I want everyone to really know what is going on in my head. Or in my life, for that matter. Truth be told-I don't want everyone to know that I am not a perfect person. (I hear your thoughts now-"Anna, I never thought you were perfect...")
So here I go. I am not perfect. I used to be, but I am not anymore. I am unperfect. (Okay, so really, I was never perfect, but I find myself all too often thinking "but I used to be able to read my scriptures for 20-30 minutes everyday!" or "but I used to be a good people person!" etc, etc.)
But I feel bold tonight. I will probably regret this in the morning, but by then this will be posted. (But then I guess I could delete it...) I feel empowered by the book that I am reading, "The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance" by Elna Baker. Some of you might be offended if you read it, but I absolutely love it. I love that she is honest and forward and frankly, herself. I could ramble on about the many laughs I have had already from the first 100 pages of the book, but I will move forward to the purpose of my post. Admitting my imperfection. Or rather, my unperfection.
I have a 2 year old. I don't need to say much more about my life, because he defines me right now. I think he has an extra bad case of the terrible twos. I know most moms probably think that about their first child, but I really think he is worse than most. It's only been the last few days that he has been over the top. I have cried every day. And I am not pregnant, so I can't even use that as an excuse. (Though I guess I am nursing...)
Tonight, as he was sitting in his chair screaming for the 100th time (you think I am exaggerating to make this post more funny, but I guarantee that I am not) in the last 36 hours that his Nemo band-aid went down the drain (yes, it happened yesterday morning and he has not stopped crying about it since), I asked him, very calmly I might add, "Do you want to die?"
He didn't answer, and I honestly forgot that I had said it. But he did not forget. 2 year olds never forget. Joshua never forgets. 5 minutes later, Justin was asking him what he wanted for dinner.
Justin: "Joshua, do you want spaghetti O's? Mommy made you spaghetti O's!" (See, I am even admitting to feeding my child spaghetti O's for dinner! I really am feeling bold!)
Justin: "Well, what do you want?"
Oh dear. I wish he was old enough to understand the phrase "just kidding". Now every time we sit up for dinner, he will ask to die. Oh dear, dear, dear. Good moms don't threaten their children with death over the dinner table, do they? Me=definitely unperfect. Good thing there is tomorrow.
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