Hey, I am sure this will come as a surprise to you but I am not good at everything. Shocking, I know. Today I delve deep into the depths of my sleep-deprived, sinus infected brain to share with you 5 things I am not good at. All I need in return is for you to commiserate and confess your deepest failings to me. Deal?
5 Things I am Not Good At
1. Making phone calls.
Good thing I own a business, right?
I’m fine with answering the phone. I’d even say I do a decent job of talking on the phone. But picking up the phone and making a call? I will put that off until the last possible moment. I will delay a call for days…or even months. Chuck hates making phone calls too, so he leaves them to me. Which kind of sucks. But since he’s busy at work all day, killing it so we can get rich, I can forgive him this fault.
2. Listening to my kids whine.
I’ve said it to my kids and I’ll say it to you…no one likes a whiner. And guess what? The older I get the less I can tolerate it. Pain and suffering for a genuine reason? Recovering from a nasty staph infection? Sure, I’ll snuggle with you all day long. Whining because you can’t watch a movie? Or because your sock is red? Or the sky is blue? Ain’t nobody got time for that and I am way too old to deal with it.
3. Doing only one thing at a time.
Friends, I have been a mom for twenty long years. Multi-tasking is what moms do. Even though science says it’s bad. Even though I long to do one thing at a time. I can’t. I am pulled in a million directions at once. I have breastfed on the toilet. I have talked the principal of my kids’ school while at a birth. I have cleaned up poop while talking to an adoption worker on the phone. I’ve been late to two appointments. To the same doctor. On the same day.
4. Finishing projects.
Refer to item 3. I will say, however, I am three days into my 2017 365 project and I have a perfect record so far. So, go me!
I’m not a hugger. I love you, but let’s keep our distance. I am wildly affectionate to my babies and kids (as long as they are smaller than me). People my own size? There is something called personal space. Let’s keep it. I don’t want to hug my midwife. Or my pastor. Or my pastor’s midwife. Or the checker at the grocery store or even my own mom. Sorry, I can’t help it. Hugs to me are not a sign of affection…they are an invasion of space.
So tell me, is there anything you are not good at?