(Not) Perfect

Liz has a great post about Wabi-Sabi and the quest for perfection today.  It got me thinking about something that has been rattling around in the old brain for a bit.

We are, um, slightly addicted to listening to Laurie Berkner in the car.  If you have a preschool-aged child, you probably know who I’m talking about, and if you don’t have one, figure 2 parts Raffi, one part Peter, Paul, and Mary, and a dash of, I don’t know, Suzanne Vega or something.  Folky, poppy, kid music.  With an extreme, severe, and gigantic tendency toward getting stuck in your head.  When Jenny of Three Kid Circus mentioned that she was humming Victor Vito in her head, I went out and bought the CD, not realizing that the humming might well not be voluntary.  Catchy.  Yeah, just a little.

Anyway, there’s a song on the Victor Vito CD called “I’m Not Perfect.”  It goes like this:

I’m not perfect

No I’m not

I’m not perfect

But I’ve got what I’ve got

I do my very best

Do my very best

Do my very best each day

But I’m not perfect

And I hope you like me that way.

Then it goes along to sing similar verses for “you’re not perfect” and “we’re not perfect” and in the end it’s “And you know I love you that way.”

And you know, there are days, driving to school after a particularly intransigent morning, or an afternoon where I literally had to drag them out of the preschool building, when that song is a bit of a balm for my spirit.  It makes me feel a little better about the extreme imperfection of my parenting, and my general self, at those moments, and, well, all the time.  So I sing along with it, rather imperfectly, and it kind of makes me feel better.

The thing is, the kids are listening (this is supposed to be kids’ music, after all).  And in short order, they start singing the song themselves.  “I’m not perfect, no I’m not!”  And then I’m torn.  Because part of me wants to shout out, “You ARE perfect!  You are absolutely perfectly, completely, ideally, and faultlessly YOU, and that is perfection itself.”  And I do think they’re perfect, Ellie in her freckle-nosed, round-bellied, pretend-ballet-dancing blur, and Henry in his blond and handsome talkative seriousness.  Even when Henry steals Eleanor’s Groovy Girl and throws it over the backseat for pure spite and she head-butts him in retribution (yeah, that would be THIS morning’s excitement), could they be any more perfectly three?  Any more perfectly twins?  I’m here to tell you, that’s about as perfectly THEM as it gets.  (Which is why I often have a perfect headache.)

So, in the midst of all this perfection, this not-always-desirable and far-from-peaceful perfection, do I really want my kids singing a song about not being perfect?  I mean, I don’t think they’re going to need therapy for this or anything, but I’m just trying to figure out what my stance is.  So I try it on for myself.  What if I was singing that song, and somebody said to me, “Yes you ARE perfect!  You are perfectly scatterbrained, perfectly irresponsible, perfectly sloppy, and perfectly YOU.”  And after recovering from that pretty major back-handed compliment, I might say, um, BULLSHIT.  I’m not even perfectly any of those things (except perhaps sloppy), and I’m not perfect and I don’t want to be.  Perfection is too much pressure.  I don’t want to spin perfectly and I don’t want to knit perfectly and while I imagine I’d like to parent perfectly it probably wouldn’t be very good preparation for life in a world full of real people and anyway, no danger of that happening, that’s for sure.

So perfection isn't for me, but then what do I tell the kids?  Perhaps my resistance to imagining myself as perfectly me, in the glory of all my imperfections, is just the layers of a grown-up life, and perhaps they can still accept themselves as perfect.  Or maybe I should give them the same slack I give myself and say, “No, I tend to think you’re perfect, but nobody is really, and you don’t have to be.  In fact, take my advice, don’t go there.  It isn’t any fun.”

I guess what I really want to protect them from is the idea of perfection.  It’s a word they’ve asked me to define, and I said that someone who’s perfect is someone who never makes mistakes, and there aren’t any people like that in real life.  I want them to strive for wonderful things in life, but I think that the drive to do that is naturally occurring, and sometimes the quest for perfection is what chases it out of some of our hearts.  I know that perfectionism can stop me dead in my tracks if I let it.

For now, I suppose I’ll take the easy, imperfect, lazy-mom approach of which I am so fond.  I’ll keep singing, loudly and off-key, and encourage them to join me in the chorus.  Because I suppose in the end, that’s the point.  “And you know I love you that way.”

Edited to add that I should have linked to my dear friend Sara's column in Bay Windows on a very similar topic.  Thinking about this in the context of disability brings the notion of true perfection to a completely different level, and reminds me that the human version of perfection takes a million different, equally perfect forms.  And because I can't resist the opportunity to show a cute kid picture, I'll link to a photo I posted in response to her original post on the topic.

Comments

[margene]

That's why my mantra is 'it's the process'...it doesn't matter if it is perfect or even good. It just is and it is perfect in just being. Well said, Cate.

[Sara]

Oh my.

well, I guess I'd start with the definition of "perfect". Maybe perfect should be defined as "just the way it should be", rather than utterly always correct. Or really - there are two meanings (which is what you so perfectly show in your writing) - and despite our imperfections, we are still perfect.

'bout sums it up eh? Keep singing the song, and just let 'em know that they're allowed to make mistakes - they're still perfect if and when they do.

Works for me anyway ;)

[Dena Childs]

We love Laurie Berkner in our house. And Dan Zanes, and Justin Roberts, and Sara Hickman, and Elizabeth Mitchell.

I'm a bit of a perfectionist. But knitting is showing me how not to be perfect. Every time I make a mistake I'm learning something new. And I'm even able to make a mistake in something I'm knitting, and leave it.

[Gina]

YOU think they are perfect because you are their mom and you are supposed to think they are perfect.

THEY should not think they are perfect because, hey like the song says, no one is perfect.

Believe me they will be much happier if they do not strive for perfection. Strive for excellence, not perfection. (I got that from a book or something, not mine)

Anyway, my BIL and SIL are always out for perfect and they never get it and they are extremely miserable. With everything even what they do. My BIL starts projects and never finishes them because they are not "perfect". He has half his tile over the sink in his kitchen done because he had to mix this perfect color of grey grout and then ran out of the "perfect" grout and can't get the color again. Every job someone does for him stinks and everyone else is an "idiot".

So, IMHO, let them be not perfect. They are gorgeous and divine (as Tertia would say) but not perfect.

Keep singing!

HUGS, Gina

[wenders]

What a beautiful post.

I think, and this is something I am still figuring out, is that we all *are* striving for perfection, but that it is our own understanding of what it means to be our most perfect, authentic selves. Maybe it's more about being perfectly content with who we are? And if we ever got to that point, that we would mean that we'd be done learning and loving and everything. Which won't happen. But maybe we can be on the perfect path for ourselves. Of course, that works for me, but may not for anyone else. :)

[Katy]

I think you are handling things perfectly. And your post gave me lots to think about but my head is about to explode after a day with my kids so I can't really think about it now.
We only have "Buzz Buzz" by Laurie Berkner. If I was to buy another, which would you suggest? (gotta road trip coming up)
Isn't it weird how those kids songs stick in your head? I find myself humming them at all sorts of odd times (like at work). Sigh.

[Jody]

As I read your post, the quote that popped into my head was from a Zen master - "Your perfect just the way you are. And, you could use a little improvement." I like thinking about that with the toy throwing and head butting, it was a perfectly them moment but it could have been a bit different.

[Elaine]

I always told my sons (enthusiastically) "You are the very best Nik/Alex/JJ I have ever given birth too!" It is and always will be the gawd's honest truth and sometimes it was all they needed to hear. I never asked for perfection. I accept mistakes but I expect integrity in all things..even those mistakes...and there is NEVER an excuse for bad manners! So far it's worked. I ADORE my big, grown up sons. :)

[Cara]

Perfect post! ;-)

Knitting has helped me tremendously with my perfection problems (and I'm supposing spinning will help even more.) It's taken me a long time to accept that I am what I am and I try my best and that's all I can do. It's hard, though, to give up the illusion of control that the idea of perfection (wrongly) seduces you into.

[Cassie]

I learned a long time ago through my quilting that things that are 'perfect' with every angle exact and every stitch the same size, and every thing just so..... those things are lifeless. They're static and have no spirit in them.

[Cassie]

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't consider 'perfect' a compliment.

[stephanie]

I agree with you wholeheartedly.

I also want to go on record saying that I don't think that there is a more perfect age for a human being than three.
I love three year olds. Small enough to be babies in your arms, big enough to hold a juicebox and discuss bugs...perfect.

[Liz]

I love the song. I love the line that says, "do my very best each day" because, really, that is so much better than aiming for perfection. Cassie's absolutely right when she says that "perfect" things are lifeless and static. That's why I love wabi-sabi...it's taught me that imperfect items have more soul and life.

Glad my post spoke to you. :)

[Lee Ann]

You're imperfectly wonderful.

Please take that as a compliment imperfectly delivered ;-)

[Emma.]

My son is perfect to me,but not because he's ''perfect''. Simply because I love him.Our chant is ''no matter what you say or do,I will always love you.'',which gives him the space to not be perfect whilst being perfectly loved.
Well,I understand what I'm saying !

[Fulvia]

You ask "then what do I tell the kids?" ... perhaps you can tell them "[you may not be perfect but] you are perfect for me".

And then you said ..."Or maybe I should give them the same slack I give myself and say..."... yes, you should for you are one just like them, only older. And as long as you are here, make sure you fully occupy your space on this planet.

Thank you for posting these thoughts.

[Bethany]

I have a (perfect) toddler & have not heard of Laurie Berkner-- but I am getting a little tired of Raffi's "Bananaphone", and a bit weary of the Wiggles... so I will check it out. Thank you!

[Deb]

I tend to think that only God (or gods, or whatever) can be perfect. Humans are not, and that's part of our appeal. Who'd want to be perfect? But you CAN try to be the most perfect You you can be, but part of that is accepting that not you, not your sister, not your friends, not anybody is ever going to be anything perfect except perfectly lovable . . . and that's not such a bad thing!

[terri]

I started to reply but it got too long winded. http://spinningwheel.net/?p=198 Executive Summary: perfect people are sick.

[JoVE]

I am so NOT a perfectionist that I am having trouble even understanding why anyone would feel the need to redefine perfection. Baffled. But your thoughts are interesting.

[Isela]

Perfection--overrated! Our kids are perfect the way they are, they are just a reflection of us, whatever they do or say, they are usually copying us.

We are not purrfect at our house, but we are sure happy with our mess and purrfect headaches :).

Love your post :).

[Kat]

I agree, perfect is overrated and perfectionism can cause all sorts of problems. I'm trying to be less of a perfectionist, but sometimes I forget. So... thanks for the reminder.

[Kathy]

It's really hard -- I want to do some things perfectly (like motherhood) and get on my own case when I am not perfect or even ear it(which is most of the time). I think maybe my impatience with myself rubs off on my being impatient with my kids and then they internalize the feeling of being imperfect. Or what's worse,if they internalize the feeling of being "bad". Thank you for your wonderful post. It's very thought provoking and makes me think a lot harder about messages I'm sending as a Mom.

Kathy

[Dana]

I spent a LOT of money at a residential therapy seminar to be told that we were all "perfectly imperfect." I argued at the time what we were imperfectly perfect... it took me 10 years to understand the wisdom in perfectly imperfect. Sounds to me like your kids have a head start. Way to go! We are all perfect AND imperfect.

[Jenny in NC]

My kids know that I'm certainly not perfect, and indeed, a more than a bit silly at times, and I try to let them know that they don't have to be perfect, either. I could do a better job about expecting it, though, and I could certainly be much more patient with them than I am. We don't talk about people being bad, we talk about making not the best decisions, and I think that helps. I'm back at work this week (and having to pump again, after being home for a while, which sucks because I was really done with that - I'm not pumping for *them* necessarily, more so I don't look obscene by the end of the day), and it's been weird being back. I rather miss being home, and I feel frighteningly efficient at getting things done here, since I've been doing stuff in 20-minute bursts at home. If you don't have it yet, you should check out They Might Be Giants "No!" - it's delightful.