Ode to the Perfectionist Mother

Years ago I printed out a poem that spoke of the beauty of having kids and their accompanying joyful noise. The author wrote about blank patches in his lawn due to their exuberant play, and it stuck in my mind because I can relate to a less-than-perfect yard. 

I can relate to a lot of less-than-perfect everything. 

I suspect that your perfectionism might have started out much like mine, though, if in fact perfectionism is a thorn in your side, too? We hear the well-intentioned praise of others when we do something right or to their liking as a child, and that inner dial clicks on that tells us, "If I make this perfect, I will gain approval." 

Or maybe it's an inner drive you've fought your whole life. Some of us are simply wired this way.

But along comes that precious little baby, and before we can even hold tiny him or her in our arms, our perfectly crafted birth plan is tossed out the window as pretty much nothing in labor goes the way we pictured it. The first obstetrician I ever had told me after she broke the news that she wouldn't be delivering my baby, "Honey, when you're in labor, you won't care if the janitor delivers you."

Goodbye, perfect beginning to motherhood. 

(If we want to split hairs, my perfect motherhood was shattered the first time I threw up so violently from morning sickness, every blood vessel around my eyes burst into beautiful red lines that made me look I'd been smoking crack.)

After the first few months with darling newborn, life recalibrates and we begin to believe we have this all under control again. Some of us have two perfectly behaved children in a row with no medical issues, learning disabilities, or cowlicks. We believe that we have crafted lovely children by wielding our parenting skills we learned from the experts who wrote a book.

But some of us have children with mental illness diagnoses, disgusting habits like spitting loogies and chewing fingernails until they bleed, endless potty training sessions that result in underwear we just throw away because it's easier to buy a package of 4 + the bonus 1 from WalMart, inappropriate comments said aloud to the pastor, and terrible handwriting. 

Our perfect family is shattered.

Rather, our idea of what a perfect family looks like is shattered. Remembering the difference between the two is what will keep us from regret and disappointment, because first of all, there is no perfect family. 

Secondly, it's far easier to face the truth that we had a picture in our minds of how this would go, and heck, life happened! Things didn't go as planned! This happens to me pretty nearly every time I make dinner, so it's a concept I can easily grasp. 

Life almost never goes the way we think it should in our heads.

The picture at the top of this post is of our home. When we moved in four weeks ago, there was grass all around the tree, but the tree had an old swing hidden up in its branches and our kids spotted it like a hawk spies a chihuahua from 50 yards. I think it has a homing device inside its seat, too, because suddenly the kids from across the street, and catty-corner, and across the alley quickly made their way over to the swing and I think we gained two extra little girls at our house in the process.

Goodbye, lawn. Hello, dirt patch carefully constructed by feet dragging across and around and across and around again. 

My lawn isn't perfect. You should see the inside of my house. Oh, we keep it up and clean it and hang paintings and wash the slipcovers, but children live there. Homeschooled children who never leave, do not pack a lunch that gets left on the bus, and craft every science experiment in the kitchen using the same liquid measuring cup that I'll wash and repurpose for actual food preparation in a few hours. 

It isn't perfect, but this once-perfectionist mother has learned to see the beauty and peace that accompanies allowing life to take its course. Every once in awhile it's okay to perfection yourself to the point of frustration, but as the old adage so wisely reminds, choose your battles carefully. A flawed platter of cupcakes made with laughter and a not-quite-perfect shade of green food coloring trumps the three-layer chocolate Taj Mahal replica that forced everyone "out of the kitchen or die" any day.

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When Those Who Love You Hurt You the Most

{affiliate links for resources below}

In my last post, Cracked, Flawed, and Broken, I promised that I would come back and write about distancing ourselves from those who are characterized by hurting, lashing out, criticizing, or abusing.

Sometimes boundaries just have to be established. If we know someone is characterized by abusive behavior, gossip, or just good old fashioned drama, it's not a bad thing to limit our time with them, at least until we see some healthy growth in their lives. It's helpful to ask ourselves if we are that person to someone else, too. Shocking to realize, maybe, but helpful.

If you are that person – the one who can't treat others with care – is it time to get some help? If you are continually caught up in someone else's circle of drama, maybe it's time to set aside the relationship for a time and breathe in healthy gospel-centered friendships. 

Resources

When People Are Big and God is Small, Ed Welch - I was so impacted by this book that I read it again a few months later. The subtitle is "Overcoming Peer Pressure, Co-Dependency, and the Fear of Man".

Unoffendable, Brant Hansen - If you find yourself constantly offended by someone or someones, did you know you can set it all aside and find freedom in the truth? Author and radio host Brant Hansen does an excellent job discussing whether or not it's our right to be angry and offended.

You can also hear the interview my husband and I did with Brant on the Homeschooling in Real Life podcast: How the Gospel Makes Us Unoffendable

Moving On: Beyond Forgive and Forget, Ruth Ann Batstone - Ruth Ann Batstone, a child abuse survivor and experienced counselor, has wrestled deeply with these questions and now gives practical, God-honoring direction to others who have been hurt and can't just forgive and forget.

I love the mini-books from New Growth Press. They do come in 5-packs, so be aware of that if you plan to order. Titles that are relevant to our discussion: 

Recovering From Child Abuse

Life Beyond Your Parents' Mistakes

Healing Broken Relationships

Help! My Spouse Committed Adultery

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Cracked, Flawed, and Broken

I've been listening a lot lately. Listening to recorded books while I endlessly drive all over the county, listening to conversations at the next table, listening to my teens in my kitchen. 

Characters in books, adult women, teens - we all have this in common: we like to talk about each other. This isn't news, is it? 

If I'm being honest with myself, I can confess to anyone that I am cracked, flawed, and broken without the hope of fixing any of my flaws all by myself. To be sure, there are many tools I've used over the years to help heal the areas of my life that have seen damage, but ultimately, as a woman who puts her hope in Jesus Christ's finished redemption, I believe that God is the only true healer here.

I also compensate for my overly-nerdy, introverted, "gifted", think-too-deeply, live-inside-my-head tendencies by talking far, far too much. Dead conversational space makes me physically queasy, and I cope by talking. By saying what could be said in 5 words with 105. Only the most patient of friends put up with me (and that's like two). 

In all the recent listening, I'm learning about other women what I have missed in a thousand conversations I've listened to before. We are all cracked, flawed, and broken.

That uppity woman who needs for all the other women to know how much money she makes or that she writes her thank you notes on Crane stationery and bought her boots at Bergdorfs? She's probably wildly insecure.

That teen who heartlessly puts down all the other teens around her and surrounds herself with a friend or two who giggle at her insults and snide remarks under her breath? This is an obvious one, isn't it? She's so insecure in who she is becoming that she's creating a wall no one else can penetrate. She'll have to spend the rest of her life tearing it down, brick by brick. 

That overly-chatty friend who seems to talk endlessly about the things going on in her world in profuse abundance and droll detail? Well, that would be me, and I'm trying to compensate for my own social ineptitude. 

How does it change us, as women, to realize that the woman sitting next to us at the swim team parent meeting is just as cracked, flawed, and broken as we are? How does it alter our view to realize that she is compensating, too: for a failing marriage, for a lack of love growing up, for her personality that isn't endearing or funny or "winning"? 

Here's the charge: Let's love each other well. Let's be the brave women who smile tenderly and openly at the woman chattering incessantly next to us. Let's be the generous hearts who see past the exaggerated accomplishment stories and bragging about children, who reach out and say, "I'm cracked, flawed and broken, but I can be your friend."

There is a time for boundaries, you know? Sometimes cracks, flaws, and brokenness lend themselves to lashing out and hurting others. I'll write more about that next time. 

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