I woke up yesterday with my poopy pants face. Yes, it's an actual face. It's the one next to the shit-eating-grin face, though they're nothing alike. If you mix them up, you'll confuse the hell out of everyone. Anyway, things around the Candyland household have been a little less than canary-yellow (because I hate "peachy"). Personal crap and blah and fill in the blanks have made life...challenging, to say the least.
But you know what? I have you.
And my pool boy.
And the FABULOUS Elana Johnson Contest
And my offspring
And the hubs
And comments on my posts, which are like presents and gold and glitter
And my health (sort of)
And my real life friends who never actually read this (stop sucking and read/comment!)
And my family (even though some live overseas...
And my 3 immortal cats
And my bitch ass manuscript that gets glowing/contradicting reviews that JUST.WON'T.DIE. It's determined to see life on a bookshelf, I tell you. Everything in my life is simmering, climbing to a slow, steady climax. I feel in my gut something big, or a lot of something bigs, are about to knock me over. The kind of things that require my shit-eating-grin face. I know I'm a hard worker. I know somewhere inside, I can write (kind of). I know I'm dedicated to proving certain people wrong. I'm committed to NOT QUITTING.
Mainly because, you know, well, uh, I'm effing stubborn.
I see now, where the offspring gets it. Her tenacity for life, sometimes to my own demise, is a mirrored image of myself. I guess it's what they call a taste of meee own medicine. Ugh. The feistyness, the vigor, the imma-do-it-my-damn-self can do attitude are necessary for being 3, and I suppose, for being Mommy the Writer.
Me: You're getting a time out.
Offspring: Nooooooooooooooooo! *screams like she's being slaughtered*
Me: Yes. Time out. Three minutes. *Firm, but kind*
Offspring: *Reaches for my flip flops and hums a song, almost pleased to be right where I put her, or right where she wanted me to put her. Crying ceases. Smiles form*
Me: Okay, anything you want to say to Mommy? *Squats for a hug*
Offspring: Yeah, Mommy. We're cool.
Me: *Utterly confused/impressed at her maturity/surety of how things will turn out.
She knows time-outs don't last, but a positive attitude does. She knows even with a setback, life goes on and she'll have another chance to do whatever she was doing when she scored the time-out. She knows, most of all, to sit back, take the punishment (critique), let it digest for 3 minutes (or however long it takes you to accept someone's feedback), and move on. That's it. No secret formula. Just get rid of the poopy pants face and attitude, and keep on, keepin' on.
What about you? Stubborn? Have a point to prove? Confident? Why do you keep going, even through the pain?
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