Being Perfect

I am a perfect mother. I am a perfect foster mum. I am a perfect wife, friend, lover, companion, cook, home maker, specimen of the human race in actual fact.

Hmmm, well maybe not ‘perfect’……. in some areas not even a ‘work in progress’! I am a terrible cook, I do try to create things from scratch but it never ever turns out well for anybody involved. I will spend a good 10 minutes every time I have attempted to cook something, staring at the result bewildered as to why it is barely recognizable next to it’s counterpart in the cookbook. I have had to accept that it’s just not ‘my thing’.  My strengths lie elsewhere is probably a more positive way to look at it.

Can I add to that by saying that the actual me as a Mummy is not what I pictured 10 years ago. No, no…nooooo… was going to be just like the Huggies ads. I would take advantages of breastfeeding my healthy (very attractive) newborn while finger painting with the other children while my organic, gluten-free, lactose free, made from scratch (not courtesy of Becky Crocker) scones baked successfully in the oven. I would be so slim that people would often remark at my ability to ‘zip back’ into shape after having children. And don’t tell me that I am the only one who’s motherhood fantasies didn’t quite match up to the reality!?

I am pretty sure that there are millions of us looking a successful female blogger’s posts of their perfect lives, silently weeping while eating a burnt pork chop and our fifth gold fish bowl size glass of cheap Verdhelo.

It may sound strange but in the last couple of months I’ve made peace with myself. I have let myself off the hook. I have stopped scrutinizing and obsessing over all the things I don’t do well and focused on what I am good at. It’s worth working on. As one friend to another, can I suggest that you do the same?

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