We are now seven years into parenting. At the risk of sounding incredibly naive, can I say that I thought parenting would become more natural, more fluid, a bit easier as the years went by? Yet, this is anything but the case. In some ways, with each passing year I realize how many more things I am not doing well or am not prepared to handle with wisdom and/or maturity. I see more of my truest self when new buttons are pushed and new challenges arise. And, the sight is rarely pretty.
At the end of the day, I think what has become most apparent is that parenting and perfectionism are completely incompatible.
I admitted a long time ago that I struggle with perfectionistic tendencies. And, basically, this is a nice way of saying I’m obsessive-compulsive and difficult to live with on an everyday basis. I read an article earlier this fall called, “14 Signs Your Perfectionism Has Gotten Out of Control.” Ashamedly, I exhibit approximately 12 of those signs.
But, here’s where I think I might be making some progress. I’ve stopped thinking of perfectionism as a harmless {if not helpful} attribute, and for the first time I’m starting to see it for what it is. And, it’s a total kill-joy.
It’s demanding.
It’s deceitful. {“perfect” = happy}
It’s exhausting.
It’s counter-productive.
It’s stifling.
It’s near-sighted.
It’s predictable. {procrastination, panic, dissatisfaction}
While the perfectionist is worried that the snowman doesn’t have a mouth {because, really, things of this sort can stress one out}…
An aware person, a joyful person, might soak up the fact that we all got to spend the morning outside together playing in the best snow we’ve experienced around here in years. She might realize that swinging in the snow is not an everyday opportunity and one that should be thoroughly enjoyed.
And, while the perfectionist is panicking about how many clothes and accessories the girls drug out of their closets to play dress-up with in the course of one evening….
A more aware person might better appreciate the fact that kids are creative.
Similarly, while the perfectionist is freaking out because the Toddler is liberally applying Boudreaux’s Butt Paste to the cloth bottom of her baby doll…
A more grounded person might realize that perhaps this life stage makes a tidy, decluttered house an unrealistic expectation.
She might start seeing her children less as a hindrance to her productivity and more as sources of wonder and interest that bring balance and health to a pretty selfish soul.
She might communicate to the people around her, particularly those she lives with, that she loves them more than her ideal of them {or herself}.
She might worry less about what “could be” and “should be” and enjoy more of what is.
She might admit that not only is perfectionism incompatible with parenting; it’s plain paralyzing.
So, the next time the Toddler refuses to take a nap during the window of time I had planned for it, I’m going to let it go and try instead to just marvel at the one stray curl that so suits her personality…
Or, when the playroom looks something like this…
Maybe I’ll take a deep breath and appreciate the fact that this means the girls are using this space to do what kids do best… play. Maybe I’ll find some balance between teaching them the lesson that we have to pick up our messes and my wish that the room could look like a page out of Pottery Barn Kids at all times.
And, hopefully by simply confessing that I struggle with letting go and letting loose of controlling tendencies, I’ll make some baby steps in the direction of change and freedom.
I can’t promise that I’ll start letting the girls wear whatever they want to wear or brush their hair and teeth only when and if they want to do so. I’m not there yet. I probably won’t ever be a laid back free spirit. But, I can say that I don’t want obsessive, controlling desires to define me.
So, here’s to a slow but steady realization that my imperfections, life’s imperfections are actually opportunities for growth and grace and God’s goodness to take root.
And, here’s to celebrating all the things that force me to loosen my grip on the reigns:
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