Trying to Be Perfect, Am I Even MORE a Mess?
Perfect? Who said anything about perfect? I’ll consider myself a superhero if I can accomplish the minimum needing done everyday. Between my 6 year-old son, twin 2 year-old girls, my house, job, the huz – mother-in-law and parents, how on earth can anyone even possibly expect perfection?
Yet, very surprisingly, I’m often patted on the back for “doing such a great job” because not too many people can manage one tantrum-ing toddler, let alone two. The constant kudos has always confused me, to say the least. On the one hand, here I am struggling to get by every single day; making sure my kids’ basic needs (and a few beyond basics too) are met, getting out the door with my shoes matching and hair neat while remembering to grab my son’s library books on the way out. All the while, balancing the needs of my clients and colleagues. On the other hand, those very clients, colleagues, friends and family – all tend to be in awe of how I can juggle this insane existence.
My point is this. To me, I am the furthest thing from perfect. To everyone else, they see a woman, a mother and wife, a writer and consultant, daughter and friend – accomplishing the best of my best every day and doing it with some semblance of sanity. The truth is, it’s a never-ending balancing act. I am balancing my personal, professional and private lives very carefully to be able to “have my cake – and eat it too” as they say. I may let the nanny spend more time with my kids than some mothers do but at the end of the day, I am a better mother for it because when the cubs are with me, I’m more relaxed. I may work late into the night and suffer on quality sleep many nights but I do it with the idea that “using my brain will keep me sane” and as a woman who is proud of her accomplishments and contributions to the world, I am a happier Mom. I often pick and choose the events I agree to attend, carefully monitor the number of friends I socialize with and say “no” where it must be said. By doing these things, I can sit back at the end of each day and reflect upon the happiness of my home. When I am happy, my kids are happy. They go to bed squeaky clean after their bubble baths, with full tummies, giggly memories and completely fulfilled in their own little dreamlands. Night after night after night.
Now, while I may not be June Cleaver, with perpetual muffins popping out of the oven and a spotless home – I have happy and well-adjusted kids who know they are loved and love me right back. And they see right through all my imperfections, remembering only the love they feel when their Mama is looking in their eyes and adoring her perfect little children.
So, the next time you begin doubting yourself but the world around you sees you otherwise, BELIEVE what the world is saying. Chances are, they are right.
~Fareen is a writer, consultant and freelancer living in a concrete jungle while raising three silly monkeys with her husband. Methods of coping with life currently include: hiding in the bathroom with chocolate, long chats with girlfriends, and hugs from her little angels.