The Art of being ugly

Annabelle is at such a fun stage...except when she isn't. I love the wonder in which she views the world, but the short fuse is sometimes enough to make me want to sell her to the nearest passing band of Gypsies. You see, Annabelle doesn't like to be told "no". Or to wait. As soon as the words leave my lips, the melt down begins. First with the stomping feet, followed by a shrill cry with the finally happening on the floor at full volume with hands and feet thrashing. It isn't pretty, it is down right ugly, and the girl has perfected it an art form.

Annabelle and I have a lot in common, and I am not just referring to the rolls on our thighs and cute dimpled butts. I have perfected the art of ugly. I may have mentioned, or you may have observed, my issues with authority. This is at all levels, from the benign inability to follow a recipe as written to my out right defiance of God.

It is stupid, really, and at some level I know this. After all, God wrote the rule to how this whole world works and was kind enough to give me a handbook as a heads-up and yet I, like Annabelle, just don't like to be told "no" or "wait". I pray for wisdom and when I don't like the answer, I hit the deck kicking and screaming, causing myself harm because I don't want to obey.

Ugly is easy. It is default human nature to rebel, to want to do our own thing, to pridefully believe that our way is the best. A beautiful heart is a learned disposition, one I am trying to instill into my children and one I feel like I get further and further from. How do you teach a child when you can't seem to get it figured out yourself?

I have been humbled by my stupidity so often you would think I would learn. I mean, even Annabelle has figured out that when you want to throw a monster fit it is best to go to the rug where is is soft and won't hurt when you throw yourself backwards. And yet on I go, fighting ugly like I have for years, never feeling like I conquer the beast.