I haven't decided how this whole blogging thing works, or if there really is a rule for that matter. Sometimes when I'm trying to decide what to write, I literally have a conversation with myself in my head. I tell myself about the struggle to decide and tell myself how I don't think I'm doing it right. And then me tells me that in order for your blog to be successful it must be consistent regarding all things readable. I must make sure to blog on the same day, and the topic should overlap somehow and ride the same theme. And then I stop my know it all self and say, shut up, you don't know shit, I'll write about what I want and when I want and so that is what this is.
I really hate my popcorn ceilings.
I have surrendered myself to the truth that is...no, God did not make me this way...the TRUTH is, the glorious body He gave me has disappeared and some fat chick is boss now, as a direct result of negligent "templing" (as I like to call it when referencing my direct avoidance in dishonoring my temple and pure obsession with gluttony).
My engagement ring is broken, I'm really sad about it too, sometimes I'll look at it and think about, "what if Marcus had never given this to me?", and then I'm quickly reminded that we dated for 5 years, and nearly strangled him to the idea that marriage was next. And if he hadn't handed that sucker over, I would have surely handed him my foot in his face. Or something less suttle. Just sayn.
My husband is out with his buds tonight, and the older I get the less I care. I was never the jealous type. Look, it is a true emotion we all have, however, the wife or girlfriend that gets or shall I say, acts jealous, has never been me. And I notice now, its even less of a bother, mentally.
I want another baby.
I am a member of Pinterest, and suck at it.
My little boy got a real bed today, and I can't believe I glazed over it like it wasn't a big deal. It's a huge deal, sometimes I feel like I am just glazing. Am I doing this right? Yes, I breastfed for a year, yes my son was potty trained at 21 months, yes, he sleeps in his own bed, and always has, etc...but the other stuff, the non tasking mother stuff, am I doing it right? My little boy amazes me everyday and sometimes I feel like his accomplishments are the, my, expectation and not a milestone where true, honest and loving acknowledgment is due. I gotta get it together.
I miss soccer so much. I have never been able to watch it on tv and really enjoy it. If I can't play it, I don't want any part of it. Stupid I know.
I really got to get over the thinking that I'm the only one that knows how to do it right. My inability to allow others to help me is just plain sad.
Cooking, I mean seriously. Really? Why must I be so bad at it, and secondly, why must it be such a necessity?
I tell people that my mom used to tell me that a little man lived in my ear and when I would fall asleep he would come out, walk to the inner part of my eye and poop there, when asking about eye boogers. As if my mother was creative enough to come up with that...why? Why, lie about that? I'm pathetic.
I blog from my phone only.
Mi vida es totalmente todo lo que mis sueños presentaban. Y todo se lo regalo a Cristo. (Get'cher translating on...)
Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4
