Opps Bag- $2

The closest mall to our house has a cookie shop. I actually think it may be called “The Cookie Shop” but I could be making that up because it sounds good in my head.

We were at the mall on Tuesday for the Mister to get his eyes checked. (Yes, theres an optometrist in the mall). I was walking the babies around when they were getting antsy. There was only one thing that would calm the savage beasts. And it was cookies.

We roll up to the cookie counter in the food court and I order some little sugar cookies for their little kid hands and a lemonade for myself. I noticed a sign near the register while we were waiting “Oops Bag-$2”. So I read the small text and found out that Oops Bags were overcooked, broken, a day old or otherwise less than perfect cookies. I immediately thought this was a great idea and asked for one.

20100913_123639-Burned-Cookies

It wasn’t just because it was cheap cookies. I mean, I love cookies and cheap ones are even better ya know. It’s because if people were cookies, I’d be an Oops Bag. I’ve been broken, I’m older, and I’m a far ways from perfect. There are pieces of me missing that will never return. There have been parts of me burned,blackened, and ruined. And even though my life has been filled with people who passed over me and chose another, I’m still good. I’m still worthy. To a zombie or cannibal, I’m still delicious.

Just because we’re not perfect doesn’t mean we aren’t good enough. Our flaws are parts of our story. Our flaws are part of who and what we are. We should honor those things in us that make us who we are. For good or bad, we are who we are. And we shouldn’t be ashamed.

 

 

Anger

Anger is the coating for inadequacy.

Anger is the capitalization of pain.

Anger is a bad translation of misunderstanding.

Anger is unhappiness set on fire.

Anger is panic wearing stilts and dropping it’s voice.

Anger is Depresson’s paramour.

Anger is not a badge of honor.

Anger is the dictator that rules after a coup.

Anger is the jar of nectar tempting from across the room.

I know these things. I spilled the words from my heart. But I still let anger take over when I feel vulnerable, insulted, or rejected. Its a preset response that I want to eliminate.

I’d rather be seen as soft than as a hateful,anger bitch.

What paths have you found the break the chains of anger? What resources do you enjoy?

It took a bit of time to realize, I am not the perfect mother.

Sometimes my kid eats chips for dinner. Sometimes we skip brushing teeth. Sometimes we veg out on the couch and watch tv for hours. Sometimes Im short tempered and honestly, down right rude. Sometimes there arent matching socks for school.

And most of the time, they dont care. And neither do I. My boys are as happy as they can be and are growing and thriving. Im not the best mother, but Im the best mother I can be. And after years of not feeling good enough, I know I am.