I want to be perfect... those of you who know me know that I tend to throw myself 150% into whatever it is I am doing... motherhood, writing, community service, whatever.
But I have yet to achieve perfection and it pisses me off. The odd thing about this is that I'm not really a perfectionist. Believe it or not, I have an award winning, "oh, well" kind of attitude. I can live with good enough... especially when it comes to home stuff. I know I'm not a real perfectionist because I live with one. Now my dh... he's a perfectionist. A true blue, sees every little flaw, kind of perfectionist.
Not me. I have selective perfectionism. I don't care that I have a dust bunny the size of a shetland pony inhabiting my bedroom. But I am flaming mad that I forgot to put the sugar in the cranberry oat muffins this morning. I got up at 5am to make my family nutritious, fragrant muffins before they head off to school and work. I whip it all up, bake them to golden perfection and serve them, only to find they taste more like cranberry oat biscuits. Gross. Muffins need sugar. In this case, a half of a cup of brown sugar.
It's kind of the story of my life. Great intentions, but I just can't seem to achieve what I want to. Like Anne of Green Gables and the perfect pink cake-- seasoned with liniment instead of vanilla.
I really do want to be one of those moms who's lives seem effortless. Who somehow manage to do everything and keep a svelt size 6 figure. I see them on my way back from taking megs to school, all dressed up in their SUV's, on their way to work, having just delivered every child to the proper school, dropped off the blockbuster movies, arranged a playdate for afterschool and ordered dinner from Dinners Done Right.
I can't even manage to remember to put sugar in the muffins.
I like this topic. I think I'll make a week of it. You have been warned....