The house looks like a tornado ripped through it. I just survived cry fest 2014. My dinner was a sandwich. And chips. The bad-for-you kind. I’ve got a baby who is tired and fighting sleep. I’ve had a full day of cleaning up bodily fluids and looking at a sink of dirty dishes. I’m sitting on the couch-taking deep breaths-wearing sweat pants and a tank. I almost didn’t tell you about the sweat pants. I almost didn’t sit down and write this post. I will leave out my hot mess of a hairdo.
You know those knee-jerk-bad thoughts that get triggered by some silly-seemingly-irritating thing? Those thoughts that can run off with your entire feel-good-potential of a day?
You know them? I’ve been trying my best to catch those rascals before my perspective slumps all doped up on negative scripts. My secret weapon is what I like to call “script flipping.”
Here’s my script flip:
My kitchen is painted in the best zing!-your-soul-carribean-blue and there are clothes in the dryer that may be wrinkled, but they are clean. I found my reserves of patience and sweet tendered soothe and cry fest ended before the encore. My stomach is full and my thirst quenched. Since I started writing this post my baby has fallen asleep. Everyone is safe, healthy and now clean. Sweatpants are freaking comfortable and a tank is perfect when you are a breast feeding mama. And even though I almost didn’t – I’m glad I sat down and wrote the truth about my messy-mundane-grateful-glowing-gorgeously-imperfect life.