Pressure

     As a mom, I feel a deep seated need to get it right. On some levels not just right, but perfect. Somehow, I wish to have a gleaming home, hot delicious homemade dinners, and kids that have been played with just the right amount to make them feel loved. No one has put this on me, it came from within.
     My mother is wonderful, complicated, fun, kindhearted, and human. There were golden moments and not moments not so absolutely perfect. My whole life I knew I was loved. My whole life I knew my family would be together because of her love for my father and us girls. She brings security.
     As I contemplate my childhood I see perfection is an impossible goal. As I sit and watch my own children today, struggling with exhaustion, doing all the chores I normally have to do, admiring the handcrafted artwork, and feeling the love of my children, I put down the unholy yoke of perfect and try to be a mom that loves like glue.
    The goal we can achieve without depression, anxiety, pressure, and guilt is wonderful. Wonderful and perfect are subtely different, but that difference is profound. Wonderful includes mistakes and triumph over difficulty. Perfect does not teach anything about adversity. Wonderful gets tired then suddenly finds a second wind sent from Heaven. As I scrolled through facebook posts that ranged from gracious to flat out fabrication, I realized our goal is not to be admired by strangers, but to show love, with all its flaws, to the people we live with: the glorious victors in our family.