I Tried.

I fear my son will grow up without a strong will. I know in my heart how far fetched this is from reality, especially since he is so stubborn headed (not that he gets that from ME or anything..), although, every time I try and sit him on the potty, and he utters the words "I can't do it mama" my heart ever so slightly breaks. I am still brainstorming ways how I can turn his attitude around.

(To to give myself some peace of mind) I've committed to living by example instead of "Do as I say, not as I do." I was presented with the opportunity to donate blood. I am a needle phobic, pure and simple. My mother can rest easy knowing I will never become an IV drug user. I don't freak out verbally, or put on a huge dramatic show when faced with a needle...I just don't like 'em.
My best attempt to view blood donation's bigger picture found me signing up to donate. I was due to donate this morning, and I will be the first to tell you, I was a millisecond way from shedding tears from anxiety.
I took the somber walk to the blood mobile, inhaled a deep breath, and walked in (only to find one of my coworkers looking EXTREMELY pale...). I began nervously giggling, and was asked to step into a small "office" to be asked personal questions. I complied, and shuttered when I was told I was going to have my finger pricked (and it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be...). The nurse immediately said she wasn't sure my blood was going to be accepted. She ran it through the machine, and sure enough, I was denied by ONE percentage point. Just my luck eh?
At least I can say I tried...and I have a big red sticker to prove it!