Letting Go of Perfection

I've had an epiphany. I've decided to let go of my inner perfectionist, the one that has prevented me from accomplishing things for so long. I've been plagued by procrastination and the inability finish things for as long as I can remember. Oh, it's easy to blame two jobs, six kids (OK, technically a couple of them are adults now) relentless sports schedules...hell, I'll even add the two dogs to the blame-list… but the fact of the matter is that I struggle to get things done because if I can't do it perfectly - the shiny magazine version of whatever it is I'm trying to accomplish - then I can't be bothered to do it at all.

I mean really, just because it can’t be perfect, doesn’t mean it isn’t worth an effort. Like the cupboards I've been meaning to re-organize. They won't end up looking like the cupboards in Martha Stewart's kitchen, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve to be clean and functional, in all of their mismatched-Tupperware and random-recycled-glassware glory. And who says I can’t host a team function at my home just because the landscaping isn’t completely finished? I am my own worst enemy. I want to feel accomplished. I want to be more organized. I want to experience the joy of day to day life. I want to entertain more. I want to engage more fully with my kids. But my inner perfectionist doesn't cooperate. Even as I type this, I'm re-reading and judging. Boring, poor grammar... see what I mean?  I originally started this blog to share our precious and ordinary lives with long distance friends and family.  Since then, it's been neglected... opportunities to share have been lost, kids have grown, memories faded.

So.  I need to be OK with imperfect because it's time to stop procrastinating. It's time let go of the self doubt and worry that are soul mates to my inner perfectionist. It’s time to remember what it means to celebrate all of the ordinary moments that make up this life. I can find happiness in a house full of friends, despite the imperfect setting. I can find happiness in a clean kitchen, even if it’s not worthy of a magazine feature. I can enjoy small, intentional moments with my kids whenever the opportunity presents itself, without the burden of perfection weighing me down.  It's time to remember what it means to celebrate all that's ordinary.

Starting now.

All of six of them... nine years ago... you know what they say, time flies...and yet I remember this day like it was yesterday.  They've grown, they've changed, and they're still my babies.

Summer of 2005... these two had some kind of crazy umbrella fascination... and ended up breaking every umbrella we owned by the time the rainy fall weather rolled around.

Summertime, beach towels and ice-cream... what's not to love?

Beach time.

And there it is, perfectly ordinary happiness.  My inner perfectionist is cringing because it's OLD happiness, and the kids aren't getting equal face time, and the photography's not perfect, and the grammar isn't school worthy.  And I'm telling her to shut up, because the ordinary and imperfect moments of this life are where real happiness are to be found.

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