Word To The Ys

Any fellow perfectionists out there? Can I get a “HE-EY”? (crickets)

Well, in this household we’ve got at least 2 perfectionists; Max and I. While the other Ys might have some moments of perfectionism, my eldest son and I take it to a whole other level.

Case-in-point…Max has begun to refuse any produce with the slightest mark on it. Send a banana in his lunch, and it goes to the “pigs” (his school is part of a project where uneaten food scraps are sent to a nearby farm to feed the pigs.) Ask him why, and he’ll tell you his banana got all brown. You know, bananas that are perfectly normal when packed in a lunch at 6:00 AM are uneatable by noon. If a grape has a spot of brown on it, it is rejected. Never mind that every single grape has a spot of brown somewhere on it. It seems he has become a popular lunch companion because he’s always telling me about how he gave all his produce to his friends instead of eating it himself. We’ve had countless talks about how brown is not bad, but part of nature; that I would never feed him spoiled food; that I would not give him something that I wouldn’t eat myself. So far, not very reassuring I guess. Last night at dinner I actually made a game where I was putting all the “spotty” grapes in his mouth. He was laughing and finally eating them, so maybe we had a breakthrough. Who knows, though…it’s hard to change his mind.

It goes from harmlessly quirky to troubling when we get to homework time, however.  If an eraser has to come into play, it is devastating.  It makes no difference to him that he reads and writes and thinks about 3 grade-levels above where he’s at; he MADE A MISTAKE.  He has to ERASE.  There are often tears; there is sometimes self-flagellation (literally).  As his parents, it is hard to watch and harder yet to talk him through.

My own perfectionism is something with which I’ve struggled my whole life. It can be a welcome assistant in terms of achievement, but it can also make one a pain in the rear to one’s parents (see: all reference to particular eating above. And also…Mom and Dad…was I like that with food? If so, I’m so sorry!) It can also make one’s self-esteem lower than low. I’m not sure where I ever got the idea that anything less than perfect was unacceptable. My parents NEVER fed that in the slightest. In fact, they did a good job of trying to help me accept my humanity. I don’t know why I felt (and often continue to feel) that I am unworthy of love and acceptance because of my human-ness.  I know I don’t want Max to feel that way, and Joe and I work hard to let him know that “mistakes” are okay. I want it to be easier for him than it’s been for me.   I sure appreciate regular people more than those who are covered in that false veneer of perfection. 

If only we could take what works in perfectionism (for instance, a pride in one’s finished product; a commitment to completion) and do away with the unattractive byproducts. That would be perfect.

Ha.

All I know is that, while the obsession with perfect food is annoying, the pursuit of personal perfection can be so much more toxic than spotty produce. I just want all of us to be a big, happy bunch of spotty grapes–valued for our content and accepted in spite of our organic flaws. Because in everyone and everything, those spots are only natural.

Posted in Max, Mostly Me | 3 Comments »

Sometimes I think of our family as a big, delicious sandwich.

This sandwich has three very different and enjoyable ingredients on the inside.  The three ingredients compliment each other very well but are distinct, wonderful goodies on their own. 

On the outside are two pieces of bread…and not just any bread!  No, this bread has to be hearty and hale.  It has to be sturdy enough to adequately support the delightful interior.

I am a piece of bread.  But I am just one piece.  On my own, I cannot hold the awesomeness of this sandwich together.  Sure, I might be able to balance the three ingredients on my own in short bursts, but what I really need is that partner slice.  The other piece of bread that helps me in embracing our family.

What can I say on this Father’s Day that will show enough gratitude, that will express all it is I feel for Joe: my partner in everything, my greatest friend and perfect compliment?

Thank you,

Thank you,

Thank you,

Thank you.

You are a very useful Papi.  For all the craziness, patience, good humor, stability, tears, and laughs–and for helping me hold it all together–thank you.

Posted in Joe | 2 Comments »