Things aren't perfect. They can't be. Raising children is not an exact science. We learn from imperfection. We grow through our mistakes. We are better parents for it.
I am learning to accept a new level of "perfection" as I make my way through my second month working full time outside of the home. I have officially lowered my standards. Don't get me wrong, I still want the best for my kids all the time. We eat well, we care for them with all of our hearts...but I can't sweat the small stuff.
I'm writing today from the waiting room at dance class. I call it the Thursday crazy rush. A mad dash from work, to pick up both kids, and get to dance on time. Quite a wacky race. From here, we are headed to parent-teacher conferences. The entire time I was racing from the office to school today I am telling myself...
It's dance class. Not the Olympics. She can be late. It's not the end of the world.
We made it on time. We rushed into the door, put on her ballet slippers and I began the full-on purse dump in search of a hair tie. Not a single one in sight. Not in her dance bag, my work bag, or my purse. How could this be? I was contemplating pulling the band holding my mess of a ponytail out (which I just could not bring myself to do...it's bad). So, I came to the conclusion that I will just ask her teacher for one. Admit that I am too crazy and unorganized today to follow the rules and have my daughter's hair completely pulled back...and ask for one. Then I see her...my mom friend. A beacon of light. I ask her for a hair tie and the problem is solved. Thank goodness for mom friends. We have to have each other's backs. It is a mode of survival.
The thing is...does it really matter? I have found myself asking this question inside my busy mom guilt head every day. Does it matter she didn't have a hair tie? Not at all. She will still have a wonderful time at dance today. It has no bearing on her day. Caring about it...that's on me. I've decided to let it go.
Myles's school called the other day because he was sure that he was supposed to be picked up that day and there was no note in his bag. Our communication lines must have gotten crossed and he must have been confused (he was supposed to ride the bus - thus, no note), but does it even matter? It's not like the bus dropped him off to an empty house. Sure, they had to call me, but he got home safe and sound just fine. It doesn't matter. Let it go.
Things around me lately have been moving faster than they used to. Sometimes I feel like I am on fast-forward. In fact, I think I am even typing faster than normal right now. It's my new current state and we are adapting. It's working out perfectly...at least some new level of perfect.