These are my confessions
I like country music.
I’m currently letting my 1 year old self feed yogurt so I can blog without interruption. Yes the mess sucks, but the time I get is worth it.
We have the TV on Nick most days. I don’t care.
I’m addicted to Dr. Pepper. Bad.
I’m an atheist. I cringe when I think about discussing this openly on this blog. It’s not a secret, but it’s not something I shout from the rooftops either. There is definitely a stigma attached. I don’t want people to judge me, though in most areas of my life I don’t care. My spirituality (or lack of) is very personal to me, a very long hard journey, and to think that it would change how people view me scares me. But, there is it.
I’ve been spending more time on the internet than playing with my kids. This is something I’m working on, but the internet can be a bit of an addiction. Baby steps.
I puffy heart nap time. Lots.
Some days I pretend my day was harder than it really was, so I can get some time alone. I know McHusband would “let” me without a hard day, but it makes me feel guilty.
I’m proud of my kids. Very proud. But a tiny part of me thinks they are great without any help from me.
Being a control freak with OCD tendencies makes for some serious struggles in motherhood. Some days I really feel like it holds me back from being the best I can be.
I try like hell not to judge other moms for their choices, but I honestly do when I hear someone uses CIO on their two week old baby. I fully support a mom’s right to do what’s best for their children, but in cases like this, it can’t be what’s best for the baby, but rather what’s best for the mommy. That’s wrong. Sometimes moms needs come first, but never at the expense of the children.
I yell. I like to consider myself a “recovering” yeller – but the truth is I still do it. Nothing sparks my anger like my kids. Reversely, nothing sparks joy like my kids.
When people read my blog, then tell me things like “you’re so honest, it’s so refreshing” or “I stayed up until 1AM reading, and I cried!” it’s one of the best compliments I can get. I write for me, but if I touch/help someone along the way, it means more to me than words can say.
I probably expect too much from my kids. But, if *I* don’t, will they expect enough from themselves one day?
I really don’t care for other people’s kids. I mean, they are (mostly) cute and all, but I don’t have a huge tolerance for them. I like my friends kids, but strangers kids typically irritate me (though I keep it well hidden).
As an aside to the above atheist admission, I feel stiled at times in this Christian oriented society. It’s assumed frequently that everyone believes in god. It can be frustrating.
I have big boobs and I’m blonde. This does not mean I’m easy or stupid. It’s genetics.
I like myself. I’m proud of who I am. I’m not conceited because of this. Just happy with me.