One of the biggest lessons of parenthood is about accepting imperfection. Your own, your baby’s… life’s. I am far from the perfect parent… every day when I go to bed I must forgive myself the many tiny imperfections of the way to parented that day. Every day I have to accept things that haven’t gone quite the way I would like, to accept a lack of control over events, circumstances, people… life. To accept each moment as it is, not as I thought it should be. To embrace mess and chaos.
Because I’ve come to realise that the perfect parent doesn’t exist. We’re all just doing the best we know how and being the best we are able to be. Because nobody is perfect and the sooner we accept imperfection in ourselves and others, the sooner we can truly be present to what IS, to appreciate the beauty that can be found in the speckled imperfections of life.
I have so many blog posts stored up in my head. I can see how they look, how they sound, how the words flow perfectly. But somehow I haven’t written them down yet, because I know that when it comes to it, I won’t be able to make them as perfect as the ideas in my head. I know there will be flaws, places where I couldn’t find quite the right picture, sentences that don’t flow quite right. And so it all goes unsaid, unwritten, because I can’t accept my own imperfection.
From now on, I’m going to try to just embrace the imperfection. To accept that I am MY version of a mother, MY version of a person, MY version of a writer – and that the imperfections are really the things that make us who we are, and that’s ok. I’m going to try to realise that life is better lived imperfectly out loud than perfectly in my head.
I think blog posts are much better with pictures – easier to read, more interesting. This blog post doesn’t have a picture.
Expect much more imperfection from me to come 🙂