Letting go

Here's the thing about me---I strive each day for perfection. When my sister and I had our first babies a month apart we used to play this game where we started off the day with a perfect score and then each time our babies would cry or have a crappy nap or whatever we would have points docked. I mean it was all in fun but I think I've sort of kept that with me and it's turning me into a crazy person. I want each day to be perfect and as the day goes on and I lose my temper or my kids have a meltdown as I'm battling to get their shoes on or Charlie gets sat on or my kitchen never recovers from breakfast when lunch dishes get added or I can't squeeze in a shower for me or whatever -- I feel like I'm getting points docked. So by the end of the day sometimes I'm feeling pretty defeated. But play dough is a perfect anecdote for striving for unrealistic perfection.

I would prefer they use one color at a time - they immediately open every single container and mixing them all together is the first thing they do. I want them to cut pretend food out and then pretend to eat it but Lottie eats it for real by the handful, over and over again.

Trying to get a kid to play with playdough like an adult would is a losing battle just like trying to be perfect is. I just can't control everything in my world like I could when I was the only one in it. Besides I kinda love my messy, wild, loud life.

See, I've even given up trying to dress them up in cute little coordinated outfits.