Imperfection

Lately I find myself being far more inspired and encouraged by imperfection than by awesome-ness. I don't mean to sound dark; it just seems that I get much more of a KICK from the people in the trenches than from the people on the podiums. (as in Olympics, getting their medals...it's a stretch...you'll get it...)

In the face of a prescription for Zoloft or a JUST CHOOSE JOY mentality, I'm hovering somewhere in the middle. Some days are good. A few are GREAT. Some days really, really blow. On those down days, which everyone keeps insisting are "totally normal!" I feel so far from normal, let alone perfect, that I have to find someone out there who can say, "Hey- me TOO".

First, to try to describe my fixation with perfection, let it be known that I am a first-born. As such, I am my biggest critic, and I do not understand the personality type that is easy-going, whatever works, just-hang-loose-man (I'm talking to you, grocery shopping mom in the miss-matched sweatsuit and obvious bed-head). Just typing this paragraph is taking me forever because I am continually self-editing, and re-writing exactly WHAT it is I mean to say. To wit, I can count on one hand (maybe one finger?) the number of times I have left my house without some sort of makeup on since the birth of my daughter, 5 months ago. Perhaps this may be part of my problem, and I will note that at this point in time, I only have one kid, and my record will probably change dramatically with the addition of another or two--BUT I would also like to note that I don't put makeup on for other people, I do it for ME. I need to know that I still have the energy to care and make the 5 minutes for a little self-adornment, so that when I look in the mirror I don't see tired mommy, but a glimmer of the kick-ass, take-no-prisoners business gal of not-that-long-ago. I think when Chris and I have more kids, I will just get rid of all mirrors in my house. Man this paragraph is taking FOREVER to write.

Speaking of that business gal, let me get out a quick disclaimer: I love being a mom. It is a dream come true, and my daughter seriously lights up my life, constantly. There is no greater reward, and no higher calling than being at home with your child and yada yada yada. What those women (and by those, I include 6-18 months ago pregnant and working ME) don't realize, and I think few people tell you, is that it is HARD. It is so hard to be at home every day with a baby. Not even in the "I just need a moment's rest, before another poop explosion" way sort of hard. Going from being a busy, productive career woman to being a full time mommy is a ridiculous challenge. It's a transition that no amount of coaching or fair-warning can prepare you for. It is a complete paradigm shift of priorities, focus, sense of production and ultimately, self-worth. I know I know I know the church answer for self-worth, but in reality, there is just a certain degree of feeling valued that one gets from being in the work-force that is harder to pull out of a day of house work and changing diapers. In short, going from supporting a team of brokers conducting multi-millions in business to feeling like a day where Keira only poops through three outfits instead of her all time high of six is a win--well, that's quite a transition. 

(SIDE NOTE ON PERFECTION: I closed and saved this post here, thinking I would never finish it or post it because it wasn't written well enough, I had strayed from what I intended to write about, I should just create a new blog and start fresh, etc., etc., etc.,.. Then Keira had a massive poop that only leaked through to her onesie, and that felt like a semi-victory, and I was encouraged to press on.)

What does not help in the tough times is hearing and reading how awesome other people are, specifically women, especially moms. To be real, it is mostly reading. I am as addicted to that Facebook thumbs up as anyone, and lately have had to try and keep away (Perfection me: which really doesn't matter, because anything you would have to post would not be funny, clever or profound enough ANYWAY...). There are certain mommy blogs that on good days, I really enjoy perusing. But on the bad days, I have to avoid them like a preggo lady and luncheon meat (mommy is not bitter, baby). They shall remain nameless, because for all intents and purposes, I actually LIKE these blogs, for the most part. But when grappling with my own imperfection and ever-adjusting sense of accomplishment, these just do not help when I am reading them like this:

THE BLOG THAT SHALL NOT BE NAMED ONE: I have been through so much, which makes me JUST LIKE YOU. However, unlike you, I am now an extremely beloved writer, a size zero, and oh yeah, my husband is a model. I have a seemingly unlimited amount of time to think and write things that are profound, funny, and entertaining, all while raising my three young children (what's YOUR excuse?). I totally make mistakes, but they're CUTE mistakes! ("Oh, haha, silly me, I thought the tree was actually shrinking!!") It's great that my writing has inspired you to blog, but I have thousands of followers, at least as many "likes" on facebook, and a pending book deal, so.... but really, I am otherwise, JUST LIKE YOU.


THE BLOG THAT SHALL NOT BE NAMED TWO: My life is so awesome that the title of my blog just wreaks of how amazing I am. I cook. I clean. I craft. I take photographs. I am magazine-model pretty (my husband is also a model?) And also, the big one, I am a mommy. My life is really one big slice of awesome, and you can view it all HERE and see how you, too, can do it all HERE. Because not only can I do it all, but I have the time to teach you how you can (try) to do it all too! (insert endless sunshine and smiles).


For this second blog, I thought, well, maybe she had her baby a while ago, and has had more time to get things together than I have. I shouldn't feel so bad... but nope! She had her baby nearly two months AFTER I did, so here come the arrows of inadequacy...


I realize that my summations may seem like the jealous rants of a house mommy who wishes she had it together enough to be as successful. Maybe so, but reading my snarky descriptions actually made me laugh, and that, after all, is the point. Chris told me yesterday that some days the accomplishment is that you kept going and didn't quit and sit on the couch. I actually did spend some significant time couch sitting, but I didn't quit on the day, and I guess that is something. I'd write more, but I have a poopey baby to attend to, play with and snuggle.