Progress, and how I need it

Life has its ups and downs, and some of the ups are incredibly high, but life is never, and will never on this mortal earth, be perfect.

 My kids are spastic, strange, and brilliant, and on most days I appreciate them for what they are.

 I aspire to be perfectly patient, to serve perfectly healthy meals, to dress them in clothing that lacks both holes and stains, to welcome them into a perfectly tidy home.

But the truth is, that is rarely-slash-never the case.

My home is usually clean, but rarely tidy. They only dress nicely on Sunday. Sometimes we eat macaroni and cheese for dinner, and sometimes I'm not so patient.

My mantra has been this; I can and should strive for perfection, with the understanding that I will not achieve it.

As long as I am progressing. As long as there is improvement. As long as I'm getting better, rather than worse. As long as that, I am content with myself.

I just need more good moments than bad, and I'm ok. I'm learning a few things, too.

I don't need perfect peace and quiet in order to meditate and ponder. I don't need sparkling baseboards in order to feel accomplished. I don't need them to be perfectly behaved in order to find joy in them.

I've learned that the only reason I ever feel impatient, is because there is something else that feels more important at the moment. When Jonah takes five minutes to buckle his seat belt, I'm only impatient with him because we're late to get somewhere else. When Claire asks me to sing "da Winnie Pooh song" for the 30th time at night, I'm only impatient because of the dishes and laundry that I need to work on. 

 When I am able to realize this, in the moment that it's happening, I'm able to quiet my inner self down. When I'm able to realize that they are more important, I'm ok. I can stay up 20 minutes later and get the dishes washed. Or not.

The more independent they get, the more I'm able to get done around the house. The more independent they get, the less they need me (makes sense, right?). Unfortunately, the less they need me, the less needed I feel. There is no fine balance! There is only the choice of whether or not to be happy. 

 I have finally realized, I don't need perfection.
I can be content, and pleased, with progression.