Comedian Steven Wright once said, “When I was in school the teachers told me practice makes perfect; then they told me nobody's perfect so I stopped practicing.”
I feel like that today. Like I can't do anything right, so what's the point? There are so many places in my life I fall short – as a mom and a wife. And my ideas of perfection overwhelm me.
Because, ideally my house would always be clean. My car would have the new-car smell. And my children wouldn't have peanut butter in their hair where the gum used to be.
I'd dress really cute every day, and not because I tried, but because I would just have that many cute clothes in my closet. My walk-in closet. My custom designed walk-in California closet with little drawers for socks and earrings.
I'd have our meals planned and prepped a week ahead of time: three nutritious meals for six days and one organic pizza night. And I'd sort everybody's clothing by color. And fold it really cool like the girls at The Gap.
I'd have a desk that didn't have anything on it but my laptop. No wires, no science experiment brewing in my 2-day-old coffee cup. Just a thin laptop on a crisp, white desk. In a white room. With a beautiful slip-covered chair without any mustard on it. And smooth jazz just playing out of nowhere.
I'd give the most eloquent toasts, tell the funniest jokes, and offer the most inspirational prayers. And I'd remember my girlfriends' birthdays. And the names of their children. And where I parked the car.
And I'd have a vending machine at the back door with matching shoes and socks for everybody in the family. It would also have AA batteries. And stamps. And a spare remote for the TV.
My picture frames would be either all silver or all gold, but not both. I'd have photo albums catalogued by year and bound in leather. We'd make it to church every Sunday. Or at least not be sweating, fighting or crying when we got there. And my kids would think cartoons are for losers.
I'd always under-promise and over-deliver and never undercook or overpack. Or overeat or underdress. Or overcommit. Or oversleep.
And I'd never have that week where we're out of everything. My pantry would stay stocked, I'd have the kids' Motrin before they got a fever, and my hair dyed before the roots showed.
I'd have Halle Berry's body, Martha Stewart's skills, Sheryl Crow's voice, and Angelina Jolie's husband. And my children would say “yes, ma'am” and “can we help?”
I'd be completely organized, and my day perfectly balanced between time with my husband, time with my kids, and time for me to meet with Architectural Digest about photographing my house.
But that's all in a perfect world. And it's just too hard to make all that happen.
Besides, Steven Wright also says, “If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.”
Maybe that's the way to go.
