"There She Is...Your Ideal?"

I am the queen of the quintessential first-born, worrywart, Type-A, control freak, perfectionists.  I realize this is not boast-worthy, but it has been my nature for a fairly long time so I feel it would be wrong to deny it.  My tendency is to live life through one long string of unattainable goals borne of insurmountable, unreasonable standards and expectations.  It’s a lot of fun, really.

The truth is being perfect is hard work.  Exhausting, really.  And that is why I’ve decided that it’s probably not worth it.  Am I letting myself go?  Maybe a little.  This crown is heavy, so I may just abdicate.

I have always been a little bossy.  Most big sisters are.  (Note to self: Discuss this with Emily.)  ‘Bossy’ is really just a pretty way to say ‘controlling’, and I suppose being a control freak and a perfectionist go hand-in-hand.  Controllers want things to be their way, which is really their version of perfect.  The whole ‘first-born, worrywart, Type-A’ label fits because I think there’s something to be said for the Birth Order Connection.  Aaaaaaand that’s another post.  We’ll get to that.

I’m not exactly sure of when all of these stellar personality traits collided in a ‘perfect’ storm and became my way of life but I think it may have happened sometime in college.  Becoming a responsible, mature adult was a task I took very seriously.  My parents are incredible people who gave me the most wonderful childhood ever and met all of my needs.  And while they still offered some support while I was away in college, they did what all good parents do who want to see their child succeed.  They gave me a measure of freedom to develop into a young adult who would soon be completely on my own.  I can remember the night they dropped me off for my freshman year.  I went with a friend to eat dinner at Burger King.  This clear act of rebellion was a watershed moment in my life as I realized I was now the boss of me and mid-week cheeseburgers for dinner were going to be acceptable.  That seemed harmless enough, but eventually, with this kind of responsibility came the urge to control.  I mean, let me be honest: the desire to control a situation often stems from the need to feel secure.  I’m sure that’s what I was doing then.  And, as all good control freaks know, the end goal is to achieve through your methods what you believe is right.  And perfect. 

With this being said, I guess I’m compelled to clarify that this post is not about society’s idea of perfection when it comes to motherhood.  There are millions of posts out there about the pressures put upon parents (especially mothers) to create perfectly perfect moments for their children.  So I won't rehash it here.  The reality is that I don't need the anxiety that these expectations create when I already sometimes feel insufficient, and am capable of setting my own elusive standards.  The other day I nursed a baby and attended a tea party at the same time just so I could avoid ‘mommy guilt’ and justify a shower during Reagan's next nap.  If I had been doing everything perfectly, I would have awakened at 6 am to be stylishly coifed for the tea party that would have been scheduled in my Lily Pulitzer planner and nursed in the quiet of a nursery painted with the feathers of angels.  Yeah, so…no.

I have been learning lately that nothing will mellow a mama faster than the reality of multiple children.  There simply are not enough hours in a day to do everything I need to do and want to do and SHOULD do, not to mention what I actually end up doing.  And thinking I can control everything that happens in a day is delusional.  I can manage my home, but I can’t control all the minutia of this home.  Not at this time of life, anyway.  I have high standards and hopes and I maintain those, but I’ve had to relax a little.  Survival has depended on it.  Perfection here is just not a fair expectation.  Does this make me a bad mom?  Doubtful.  The idea that this ‘deficiency’ makes a good mom somehow bad is just heartbreaking.  My girls know that I love them because I tell and show them in meaningful ways.  I’ve earned their trust and they believe me to be honest, so this is enough.  So very often I just want to tell Betty Crocker, Emily Post, Martha Stewart, and the creators of Pinterest to just sh---all we move on?

(Obligatory Disclaimer:  If cooking, decorating, hosting, or Pinteresting are your thing - or if you are related to Martha Stewart - then good on ya.  We all know that none of these things are my strong points.  I can cut PB&Js with cookie cutters and make pink milk for a cute lunch but that is an effort.  So don't feel judged if you can manage the awesome.  God gives all of us different gifts and talents so that in all ways He is glorified.  You go ahead and do you, girlfriend.)

So.  (Deep breath…that felt good to just get it out.)

Getting back to what really matters:

About two years ago through a series of interesting circumstances that were out of my control (oh, the irony), the Lord started to soften my heart to this issue of being perfect.  Quite frankly, the smoke and mirrors were getting thick and confusing, so I was glad to relax and allow Him to begin leading me out of my own self-made funhouse. 

The new self-awareness that began then has gradually been very liberating and has helped me so much as I’ve adjusted to this new season of life.  And while I’m being honest I’ll admit that this is a process.  I am still particular.  I will probably always have strong opinions on how some things should be done, and I will most likely face some more intense challenges in the future that will force me to “let go and let God”.  But I know now that there is a difference between striving to live a life of excellence "as unto the Lord" and being perfect, which God does not require.  Living excellently (to me) means doing my best in all things even when or if they aren't my thing.  It means working towards the goal of being Christ like and loving others more than outcomes.  It means extending grace.  It means being okay with my shortcomings and not living in denial, all while accepting help and working towards bettering myself to honor the Lord.  It means being intentional with my strengths and talents and stewarding them in Kingdom work.  Being perfect completely undoes the gift God gave us in His Son, Jesus.  If I am perfect, there is no room for grace...no room for the fulfillment of knowing pure, unearned, undeserved love and acceptance outside of perfect works or deeds.

Touché.

I want my girls to see me for me, and I am not perfect.  I don’t want them to think they have to live a perfect life to be loved, and I would much rather they see in me the Fruit of the Spirit and not remember me only for my good works.  I want to make them proud, but I think there’s a balance.  They can expect excellence from me, but not perfection.  Or homemade birthday cupcakes.

So.  I am deciding that it's okay to be imperfect...and a little vulnerable...and a bit transparent.  I am willing myself to continue to loosen up the grasp I have on this life and breathe a little.  My ‘to do’ list should look like this: admit and accept my weaknesses, relax and be flexible enough to enjoy life, and extend grace.  If I can master these I will feel as though I’ve been a perfect role model.  Maybe.  We’ll see.  That’s a lot to live up to and I am still learning.

But here’s my crown.  Don’t put it on, though.  It’s heavy.

This is me, as Miss Emmanuel College 1998.  And I know what you're thinking...

"Maybe she's born with it?"

The answer is yes.  Yes, I was.