I am a perfectionist. Kind of. I will readily admit that I am not perfect, but I still get really angry at myself when I fail to do something well. I am working hard on striking the balance between seeing and accepting my faults, and becoming victim to them. So today, I'm going to admit a few. And possibly admit my attempts at working on them.
Organized...i am not. Every few months I make a valid attempt at improving this, especially now that I am the head of household for my family. I have made binders and calenders and lists and chores and charts. I rarely make it past the first few days. A friend (Coco!) recently suggested that maybe I should try post-its and that might work for my random crazy way of life. I tried them in college and they just annoyed me because they were everywhere. I've now tried them for a couple days and between those and a couple random notepads I appear to be doing a little better. Just today I've made 5 phone calls that I usually would have put off or forgotten for the remainder of the week.
I am antisocial. Badly. Really not joking. I am just quite content to chill by myself at home. With Baby Lu and Walker. I'm working on this. Not even necessarily for myself, but for my son. He needs to have friends and social skills. When summer is over, I will be attending play group every opportunity I have. My son needs to learn to interact with more than just me. Especially if I plan on homeschooling him. Wish me luck. I've never been very good at making friends, but maybe I'll get better. Or something.
God. We have this weird relationship. I know He's there and we talk, but I have a very hard time with Religion. My God doesn't go to church. And while I know that I should I never feel like I fit in right. It's a long, hard battle. I don't think I'm ready to start seeking him through church services just yet, but I have begun seeking him through my reading and writing. He speaks. A lot. I just need to listen effectively and when the day comes that he ushers me back into organized religion, I should allow him too. Before he stops using discreet methods and starts hitting me in the head with sticks.
Alright. Enough self-exploration for the day. Time to go check out which post-it the baby is eating. Might be an important one. Wish my child weren't a monster. Or at least weren't so darn cute. He gets away with murder =)
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