I never used to think I was perfect. And for the record - I still don't. I give my best (maybe to a fault sometimes), but am happy to have my flaws. Some more than others, of course.
So it's funny that upon experiencing my biggest life change that I decided I was going to become Mary-friggin-Poppins. Practically perfect in every way.
When Camden was born, I was determined to be the perfect wife, the perfect mama, the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect friend, the perfect employee, and the perfect student. The perfect everything! All rolled into one hormonal ball of fun.
I'm pretty sure you can guess how well that worked out.
Thankfully, I got over this newfound sense of perfection shortly after Camden was born. I got really good at surviving and just getting by, knowing that this would all get easier over time. But then this idea of perfection reared its ugly head when I headed back to work. I would be so relieved to be heading home to pick Cam up, but the second I walked in the door - I would get hit with this invisible cloud of stress and panic and the feeling that I had so much to do just to get ready to do it all again tomorrow.
I had to do it all. Myself! And fast. Because it was only a few hours before baby (and I) needed to go to bed.
Pick up the house. Feed baby. Feed the dogs. Make dinner (or cry about making dinner). Feed baby while studying/doing homework and eating dinner. Wash and restock bottles. Restock the diaper bag. Make lunches. Feed baby. Get baby to bed. Pump. Shower (or not). Oh, hey honey. Goodnight. Repeat, repeat, and repeat. I was quickly becoming a hormonal ball of crazy.
My breaking point? Sitting on the floor in our living room, pumping, sobbing, and while talking to Ryan - hearing him tell me, "You aren't the girl I married. You're her, but you're not her."
It wasn't mean. It was true. And I knew it was true - which I think made it even harder to hear. It was then that I realized I am not Mary-friggin-Poppins. Not even close (unless you count the seemingly bottomless diaper bag that holds oodles of baby toys). I can't do everything perfectly. At least not without going batshit crazy.
One of my favorite things about myself was that I used to be a very relaxed and carefree person. But I had turned into this very un-relaxed and stress-ridden person. Obviously, I was putting a ton of unnecessary pressure on myself. I think it all stemmed from a good place - wanting to get things done so I could spend quality time with my boys. Regardless, the person I was becoming was not good. Not good for me, Ryan/our marriage, or for Camden.
Since that night, I've been working really hard to not sweat the small things and just be the girl that Ryan married. He obviously liked her. And I liked her too.
Now, I'm determined to be my own Mary-friggin-Poppins. Practically imperfect in every way.