I think I could write an entire blog with different confessions about my imperfections.
I’m not perfect, and I know I never will be, but I feel the pressure to be perfect, and to take perfect pictures, and to look perfect, and to throw perfect birthday parties, and on and on and on. I’m kinda new to this blogging experience, and that may be part of my imperfections (at least in pictures and crafting), but I definitely feel like a lot of my pressure to be perfect comes from participating in blogging.
I’m not saying this to rag on bloggers. I have incredible respect and awe for my fellow bloggers. Their pictures are really amazing. The food and crafts they photograph are practically perfect. They share amazing homeschooling schedules that make me want to homeschool. And then I look around and think, how would I ever fit that in? And then I feel guilty that I’m putting other priorities before my children’s education. And it all makes me tired.
I’ve been reminding myself I don’t have to be perfect. I’m giving myself allowances to mess up. And the results? I’m happier and so is my family.
This was a cake I decorated for my grandparents 70th anniversary. Doesn’t it look lovely? I decorated it just 8 hours after I got home from vacation. And then it sat in the hot August weather. It got pretty melted, and definitely doesn’t look professional, or even close to when it was first frosted. But guess what? My grandparents were thrilled! They didn’t have a wedding cake when they first got married, it was in the 40s and not many had wedding cakes. My grandma called me a few days after their anniversary to thank me again for the beautiful cake and the thought and time I put into providing this cake for them. I no longer cared that the cake didn’t meet my standards. I was happy I had provided them with something that made them happy.
These pictures are a little more to my standard, decorated for my son’s birthday party. There wasn’t as much time to decorate them as I had hoped, but my son was thrilled. He was so proud of his mom, and all the kids at the party wanted to eat the cake (not the cupcakes, I guess they don’t look as appetizing). We are saving the cake for tonight’s show down (go USU Aggies, take down BYU, just kidding, but the cake will bring the Aggies good luck).
Again, not the perfect field goal. I tried a new skill making this…buying supplies from the hardware store, and operating a power saw. I thought I bought all the right sized pieces to connect the PVC pipe, but the middle connecter had a lip inside so it wouldn’t slide across the entire PVC piece, this was my solution. I was so nervous that everyone would joke about kicking a field goal through a tilted upright but no one said anything. The only comments I heard was how awesome everything tied together. If I had been really worried about it, I would have returned to the hardware store and tried to buy a better piece, and added stress to a very busy day, instead I just let it go, and enjoyed the quirkiness of it all.
In my attempts to set everything up early and avoid being late, I put the balloons up for the party early. The breezes, the wood, the whatever, popped the balloons before the party even started. Meh. No one knew they were supposed to be there, and honestly, they would have probably gotten in the way. In the past I would have worried about the balloons I spent (a couple of) hours painting, and blowing up, and hanging had all popped, but on the day of the party, I just let it go, and it was like the worry was a helium balloon I just let fly away. No longer stressed about these little aspects, I could continue enjoying this awesome party I had organized for my son, and he wasn’t stressed about mom being stressed.
I’m sure we’ve all had mornings like this one. I am trying to teach my youngest some independence, and let’s face it, I get tired of feeding him all the time still, but I also hate cleaning up mess after mess. Well, it’s okay. That’s my job, and if the tray has to soak to get the oatmeal all off because it sat between breakfast and lunch, so be it.
Why do we allow ourselves to feel guilty about life being imperfect sometimes? Maybe we should change our definition of perfect. This picture is a perfect morning of my son enjoying his oatmeal, my perfect morning of eating my breakfast without constant interruptions, and all around less stress in our home. That is closer to perfection than my baby’s face sans oatmeal.
K- I know it looks like I’m yelling in this picture, but I’m not. I’m actually having a great moment with the partygoers and my birthday boy. A couple of things to point out about this picture. I cared more about my son having a perfectly fun birthday party than looking perfect. That is how my hair looks most days, but not how I wanted it to look on this day, knowing I would be in pictures.
Honestly, I felt so awesome this whole day, I had to remind myself why I felt awesome.
It wasn’t that everything went according to my plan, but that I adjusted my plan to fit the day, and left the guilt in the trash can (where it belongs). I think it was reflected in the guests attitude as well. That’s really the most attentive I’ve ever seen a group of 7-8 year olds. And I had several of the guests stay by my side the whole party because they wanted to show me how excited they were. If I had allowed myself to demand perfection, and become upset because it wasn’t, this wouldn’t have happened.
What improvements will you see in your life when you change your definition of perfection?