the elusiveness of perfection

We all can rationalize anything right?  This philosophical jaunt is going to sound like a rationalization, but stay with me, and I may convert you.

I learned how to be critical of myself at a young age.  I’ve spent years telling myself that I don’t deserve the AWESOME person that I married.  That I don’t deserve the beautiful, healthy, wonderful girls I’ve birthed.  Or the successes we’ve had.  That I don’t deserve to live in this gorgeous neighborhood and city, or have the friends I have. 

The reality is: why?  Why don’t I deserve those things?  Did I do something terrible in this life, or the one previous to dictate an inevitable suffering?  No I didn’t.  (And I am joking about the previous life thing.) 

So why be so harsh on ourselves?  I’ve asked myself over the years of child rearing, will my children turn out better if I can reach perfection? Can I crack the code on parenting the perfect child?  Is perfection possible in a lifetime?  Is it even worth attaining?  What does perfection look like? 

That last question really stumps me. 

Here’s where I’ve landed: my children don't need me to be perfect, in fact maybe just the opposite. Maybe my faults can teach them a host of qualities they need for the real world they'll enter one day: patience, forgiveness, unconditional love, compassion, empathy. What they require of me, what I owe them for deciding to bring them into the world is my presence. They need me.  To bathe them, feed them, love them, protect them, teach them boundaries, and yes at times to be imperfect.

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