Time to laugh at myself, enjoy...

I feel almost obligated to blog everyday. I laugh at myself. But it's turned into a type of journal for me, lucky you, my two faithful readers. Ever since I became a member of the church, I have felt a strong urge to write in my journal every day, and a strong sense of guilt if I forgot or neglected to do so. And so you get to bask in the splendor that is my eternal soul in writing. Yuk yuk.

Cohen has taken on a new form of "talking back", if you can even call it that. This is basically how our conversations used to go:

Kembry: No, mine!
Cohen: No, MINE!
Mommy: Cohen, Kembry, share.
Cohen: Ok Mommy. Here ya go Kembry. *smooch*

Yes, I was spoiled. I know that now. Here is how our conversations read now.

Kembry: No, mine!
Cohen: No, MINE!
Mommy: Cohen, Kembry, share.
Cohen: NO! LEAVE ME ALONE NOW, MOMMY. *throwing himself onto the floor crying as if I had just smacked him across the face on graduation day in front of his highschool sweetheart.*

And he's not even three yet. Oh, what does the future hold for me? All I know is to never, EVER pray for patience. Those are the days where the kitchen sink explodes, the refrigerator light bulb breaks (which I had NOTHING to do with, I swear...well...maybe I had a little to do with it) I slip on the freshly mopped floor due to cat liter being drug up in diapers after an unsupervised kitty liter fight. So now you've got a headache, you can't do the pile of dishes in the sink because it's exploded, you can't see anything in the fridge, and now you're 2 year old is telling you to leave him alone now. Which, you know, you taught him. I am ashamed. I bow my head in disgrace, and I will never, EVER pray for patience again. Unless I'm on a deserted island with a pina colada...and maybe Robert Pattinson. Or Brett. I have to throw that in there, so he wont be offended. LOVE YOU BRETT!