Growing up, perfection was a necessity.  It’s difficult to explain the personality flaw or feature (depending on the circumstance) that continues to be responsible for my life choices.  No one in life has ever been or will be harder on me, than me.

If you’ve read any of my previous post, you know I have an issue with honesty (Oh my toe, The Fanny Pack, etc.).  Also, I’m not afraid to admit all my many failures in life and motherhood (Bug SprayTooth Fairy, etc.).  One of the most surprising lessons from having children is the ever changing meaning of what happens to be perfection at any given moment.

In high school, I braided a lot of hair.  I was happy to for fellow cheerleaders and friends.  This was excellent practice for my girls.  I would do a little partial braid on my own, but I always hated my hair fully french braided.  I could never make it perfect enough.  How critical was I of a freaking braid?  It’s amazing how now I couldn’t care less.  When it is time for a run, I’ll put the hair up however I can.  Recently, I did a dual french braid.  I didn’t hate it.  It reminded me how much more accepting of imperfections I am, so I took a picture.


The other day, I was chatting with a friend who was discussing how OCD her significant other is on cleanliness.  This is something I understand.  Or at least, I used to.  I’ve always liked a clean space.  I’ve argued with my mother and grandmother over throwing things away.  Serious issue with clutter.  I find it almost suffocating.  Being dramatic, I call them hoarders (though they are not).

This next photo is a place of perfection.  Absolutely not for me, but for my kids.  I will endure this play room as long as they need it and it inspires their minds.  I may not always let them win a foot race, but I’ll make sure they have plenty of opportunities for spreading their wings.  The play room use to be filled with an abundance of toys.  There still are plenty, but it is now full of art supplies and music equipment.


Maybe I should be ashamed for letting it get this bad, but I’m not.  If this highly disturbs you, know I am singing in Elsa style “Let it go, let it go…”.  With three imaginative kids, this mess occurs almost daily.  They’ll clean it up whenever demanded with disgruntled complaints.  But the rug will continue to get paint splatters and my office walls will continue to be filled with their art.  Their perfect masterpieces of the day.

Anabel had her acro and ballet dance recitals last weekend.  She did so good.  She looked absolutely gorgeous.  The night of rehearsal’s she took her pictures.  I used a bright pink lipstick that really stood out for pics and stage!  As cute as it was, it didn’t stay put.  If she touched her face, rubbed…. hot pink mess all over.  Perfection is just being there with her doing the thing she loves.  Enduring the tortured schedule for her.  Flipping my active wear capri leggings inside out to become her napkin.


Perfection is in the support.  Just showing up and being there for each other.  Even if it tortures everyone else in the stands trying to support their ball players.  We’re a prolific group.  We survive on chaos.  What screaming?





Perfection in the tears of watching your kids grow too fast.  In the incremental milestones and graduations.

Perfection is in the attempt and not always the execution.  Even if you buy the kids licorice when you think they are fancy chocolates.


Perfection is taking the time to enjoy the glass of wine, even if it is the last of your favorite bottle from an anniversary trip that you refuse to pay $39 shipping on to get another.  IMG_3177

Perfection in making the best of having your first tooth filling.  Not shedding a tear even when you started the process trembling.


Perfection is about getting out there and attempting the race.  Even if you don’t win or expect to.  If you set a goal and stick to it, you might just beat your own personal record.

Perfection in the love of those few lucky enough to have great grandparents to spend time with.


Perfection in thriving through all forms of the torture of life and finding ways to enjoy it.  Here’s to your life’s perfection and to loving yourself enough to know when to let things go.


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