You're Aiming Way Too High!

To change I must be entirely sick of my current situation. Kind of like a baby sitting in a dirty diaper and crying because she missed her nap hours ago. It's just got to happen. Change for the better, change for self preservation and sanity.

So I have embarked on a mission to be perfect. Yes, perfect. It's already happening. I shaved. I started a workout routine. I am drinking fresh juice and lemon water. I am not drinking beer at noon. I am eating a diet of glowing, fresh vegetables, fruits, nuts, and seeds. I am not eating Doritos with my beer at noon. I have added yoga to my day. I am watching my words and having patience. I am drinking my tea with my pinkie out. I am writing lists and checking them off. Whew! It's hard work being perfect.















But, at every turn of this mission of mine, people are out to thwart me. And they are all shorter and younger than me. They all look a bit Hollonish...yes, they are my little girls.

I was in the middle of my glorious, very serene, yoga session yesterday when I experienced the first attack. The windows were open and the fresh morning breeze was blowing in on me, while I took my deep breaths and stretched my spine. But, I hadn't started early enough to avoid the crowd, apparently. Out of the room walked the 9 year old. She took the seat nearest my mat on the floor and just watched me with interest...about two feet from my face. I was still trying to concentrate but, surely, it was wavering. The door opened again, and out walked the 6 year old. She took the seat next to her sister and stared. My dear little asana began to falter. (It is already hard enough doing my exercise on the camper floor, where I have about six square feet to move around in.) I no longer felt like a swan, but more like an animal behind glass at the zoo.

Then the questions started.

"Mom, why didn't Harry Potter just tell Dumbledore about the book?"

1,2,3,4,5-concentrate, Shoshannah-6,7-

"Mom, can I make pancakes this morning?"

10,11,12,13-breathe deep, now-

"Mom, when is summer warm enough that we can swim?"

"Mom, what is a mammal?"

No proper yogi can endure this barrage of random mind stealing thoughts. But, a perfect person can. Because a perfect person knows that the yoga isn't more important than little sweet girls that need answers to their curious questions. To get frustrated with them isn't a solution to my concentration problem. I just need to take that "relax" part in the yoga book and change the meaning to "help small children start their day." There is no need to fume, "Girls, give me ten more minutes!"

I smiled in spite of myself, as I looked into their glowing wondering eyes. This is why you don't take your offspring to real yoga classes. You wouldn't need the little bell to rouse you from your silent happy place. Tenesee would just holler, "Mom, I gotta poo poo, " and the spell would be broken. A perfect person's solution to the dilemma...get up earlier tomorrow!

There is no way to escape the things that make life "normal." The baby will puke on my shirt. The mail will drop in the puddle. The debit card will mysteriously not work with that pin number that I'm sure is the right one. The gas will run out in the car. The bike will have a flat tire. The 6 year old will spill milk down the entire front of the cupboard and into the drawers. The spouse will say the wrong thing, or the right thing at the wrong time. The toilet will get plugged. The 3 year old will break that beautiful serving bowl. The car will get stuck in the snow. The computer will lose connection right when I am almost done with my application!



















And during all of this "normalness" I will throw my hands in the air and yell, "Ugh! I am NOT my situation. This is NOT happening, is it?!" But it is happening. And I must deal with it. I must smile, laugh and act generally undisturbed by it because I am on the quest of perfection. I can't permit it to unravel my day.

But, back when I wasn't perfect...I just might not have handled it so well. I might have cried. I might have paced up and down the living room randomly muttering a phrase of confusion over and over again until the kids asked tentatively, "Mom, are you okay?"

I might have said something nasty to the phone lady who over charged me for the third time in a row. It might not have been something you would want to repeat with small children in the room...oh yeah, there were small children in the room.

I might have thrown things. Just maybe. I might have given that little toy, that was left on the floor for the 100th time, and feels just like a pine cone on my bear foot at 3 a.m., a severe pelting against the wall.

Wow. It's a good thing that I'll never do that again, now that I'm perfect!

Instead I will analyze the situation and say to myself, "What can we learn from this?" I will speak calmly and firmly to the phone lady. I will wince with pain as I step on the toy and place it quietly in the toy basket with a shaky smile, "Those darling kids." I will breathe deep and patiently set the 2 year old on her bed while she cries because she can't have candy for breakfast. Then I will hold her close and try to understand how hard it is to be a sugar addict!

The sun is shining now and the smell of cut grass is floating through the air. The sound of the birds and the distant sound of the lawn mower are reminding me that summer is just around the corner. The day is new again. What a gift. It's time to practice opening up and letting go. It's time to remember who I was and who I am and who I want to be. It's a day for fresh lemonade and no mistakes!

And perfect?...well, it's in the eye of the beholder. Because, guess what, I already am. Even when I yell and even when I cry and even when I forget to laugh and even when I skip my yoga and drink coffee instead...I am still the me I am supposed to be. Because, I don't believe in mistakes. I don't believe that life is too hard to handle. I don't believe in "Oh, I wish I would've done it that way!" It doesn't exist. The past is passed! There are only the beautiful reminders of those days, that I choose to keep around.

















When I open the boxes of pictures that span over 30 years and when I read those journals I hear the voice of a child, teenager, lady, and a woman in the making. I laugh at the changes I have made and I shake my head in disbelief at the way I am still the same. Because we are all perfect people, just surrounded by imperfect circumstances. We do get to choose our reactions though, and they may as well be good ones, worthy of the history books. I want to laugh at my mistakes and I want to teach my girls to do the same. Life isn't always easy, but, then again, no on ever said it would be!