So what is the deal with the perfection gene? I have been pondering the topic of Worry lately. It seems, through many intersecting conversations, readings and events, that the Big Guy is flashing a neon sign at me, you see. It's like one of those crawlers at the bottom of the C-SPAN screen: Stop Worrying....Cease Fretting....Desist Hand Wringing....I Am Not Kidding....Are You Listening to Me, Woman????? Worry. I know it's wrong. I know it's bad. It makes me yell at my kids. It makes me snappish with the mister. It gets me all wound up in a tight, furious little ball by the name of Mrs. No Fun. And what really gets me (and Worries me, if you want to know the truth) is that I know better! Worry gets me nowhere, and it implies an extreme lack of faith and gratitude. And still I do it. Why? Because I want to be perfect! I want to hold on to the delusion that I'm in Charge Here People, and I'm Doing it Perfectly and Don't You Forget It! Even Big Stuff, at age 6, suffers from the struggle with perfection. Yesterday, as I very proudly read the teacher's comments about her from her report card (She is a delightful child! She is a great reader! She excels in almost every area!), she immediately blurted out - "What does she mean, ALMOST?" Oh dear, dear girl. Indeed you are your mother's child. Have I passed it along to her, or is it just the common struggle of the crazy humans? I don't know, but I'll tell you this. I got the nicest comment from Cutie Pie the other night after he listened patiently to a tirade of my worries over the gals. He said the sweetest words - You are Too Hard on Yourself. Which I would never have believed or accepted from anyone else but him. Because he's smart. And he adores these little creatures too, so I know he's not just blowing me off. My voice of reason guy reminded me - they are kids. Tomorrow is another day. They will be all right. Of course, he almost blew all his street cred when HE read the report card and commented - "What does this mean, she could 'Work on Her Handwriting?' What's wrong with her handwriting?" Oh dear, dear man.
Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?