Confessions Of A Perfectionist

Lately, I have had a hard time sitting down to write. Part of it has to do with summer and the laziness of this time of year, and part has to do with writing for a deadline. And so, since I have not posted for quite some time, and have been using old posts for my column, I decided I needed new material. Despite my most creative efforts, nothing came to mind. I do have a few projects in the works, but true to the spirit of this post I decided against perfection. For now I'm giving you my revision -- the one for this week's column. I promise to soon get back into the routine, but not until after a few more dips in the pool.

"Homes are for free expression,
not for good impression."

Helen North from the movie Yours, Mine and Ours (2005).

I have come to realize (OK, so I realized this a LONG time ago) that I am a perfectionist. I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that as a young bride I prided myself in the fact that my house was immaculate to the point that even the patterns from the vacuum cleaner lined up perfectly in the carpet.

Oh, how things have changed over the years! It might have something to do with giving birth to five kids, Mr. V's pasture full of farm animals, or the lack of sleep. Somehow, along the way I realized that perfection is just plain HARD WORK! And so, I now view life a bit differently.


I now find great satisfaction in the fact that (according to my five-year-old) I am the "best storyteller ever!" I have discovered that I am impressive at comforting a crying toddler as my kisses magically cure any ailment. I can make Mac-N-Cheese with the best of them, and my blueberry pancakes are scrumptiously delicious. I am able to iron any shirt in the dryer, am an expert at ignoring crumbs on the kitchen floor, and can make something out of nothing. I am the best at singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider", and have endured watching Dora The Explorer over 20,000 times in a row. I have discovered that a bit of humor goes a long way, and that it's best to just shut my teenagers' bedroom doors. And most of all, I have found that all of us at the Rancho are most happy when mistakes are allowed.

I must admit, however, that there are times of relapse when I get the urge to break out of my not so perfect ways. In those moments of temptation I take a few deep breaths and remind myself to enjoy the journey. After all, hair does eventually grow back; it's great that the kids want to cook; a throw pillow will easily cover where the hamster chewed through the couch; and a baby goat in the house it not the end of the world!