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....
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8 comments:
Isn't that what those cans of cream cheese frosting are for? Slathering on top of cranberry oatmeal biscuits!
Alright! That is enough of that!
I know someone who is exactly what
you are describing. So do you; she was the one who accosted your children at the park years ago.
She makes everyone she comes in contact with feel one of two ways: either you want to beat the crap out of her with the latest copy of Martha Stewart Living or you feel demoralized, belittled, and fat. You can preorder you tickets to watch her head explode from me.
Thanks but no thanks. If you can't be your sweet, snotty, bitchy, lovable self, than I don't want you.
DO NOT be pulled into the void! Stay in the dark side. Remember, we have cookies!
Your less-than-perfect, more than sloppy, dearest and bestest friend,
Annie
You make muffins at 5 in the morning. Enough said.
I used to want to be the one who sends out the greeting cards and delivers hand baked cookies to all the neighbors. I haven't made it here yet, and now we have Egreetings and computer reminders. Technology will catch up and put the sugar in for you.
The women who create the notion that being a mother is effortless and see perfect are not people and you should be aware of them. They are dangerous and cast devilish illusions.
I long ago educated my family on the fact that I can't bake to save my life. Sometimes I'll try and sometimes they'll turn out but most of the time they're burnt and disguisting. We're all use to it now!!!!
Um, I have the same problem. I want to be perfect. I want to get everything done ahead of schedule and make it look effortless.
But the truth is that it's not effortless. It's hard.
Hang in there.
And your muffins reminded me of some peppermint bark I made for Christmas--with strawberry flavored candy canes instead of peppermint. They were NASTY. I was so upset. Wasted several pounds of good chocolate. ;-)
P.S. Did you get a package from me yet?
Steer clear of the Stepford women. They're scary. And inhuman.
I tend to start a load of laundry and then remember I put it in there 2 days later. And all my kids are grown and gone now, so what's my excuse? *g*
One of my dearest friends is seemingly a "perfect person." If she weren't my friend, I'd hate her, lol. But I also know what's hidden under the perfection. Crumbling marriage, kids heading down a dangerous path, no life of her own. And silly as it sounds, I know sometimes she wishes she could be more like me. Silly girl.
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