Letters to Lachlan: 3

Lachlan the Sand Crab, photographed by mom

September 5, 2018

One year old

Dear Lachlan,

I spoke with a good friend today, on your birthday, who asked me a really powerful question, “What was the biggest thing that you learned this year?” It brought tears to my eyes to think about, because this year has been all about learning and change. Everything feels different. My body, my clothes, my relationships, our life. Everything. How I eat. How I move. What I think about.

Two things came to mind right away that are different.

One: I learned (I’m still learning…) how to be less perfect. I’ve been a perfectionist for a long time. That crooked bath mat? I straighten it on the floor. That slightly-out-place chair? I move it so it matches the others. Do I look put together? Of course, but not like I tried too hard. The dust on the window edge? I wipe it off with my finger when I’m on the phone with a friend. Not only am I on time; I’m early. Nothing is out of my controlling reach. The imperfections in the room or the document or the outfit scream my name until I tame them.

And yet, I’m philosophically opposed to perfection. I know the ruin it brings. I know the mirage that it is. I know how it is the very thing that keeps distance between me and my own humanity…as well as me and others. It’s always struck me that the very thing that we find comfort in with other humans (shared vulnerability, shared brokenness, shared struggle) is what we spend so much time hiding from each other. What we REALLY want is to walk into someone’s home when we visit and see that their house looks like ours: dirty dishes in the sink, food on the counter, clothes on the floor, dust bunnies in the corners. And what do we do instead? We spend time scrubbing and cleaning before folks arrive so things don’t look like we live there at all. So it looks like a damn Instagrammed picture of perfection. Gross. I cleaned the house before your one-year birthday party this last weekend. It felt like a failure to not just let it be what it is. I’ve got so far to go.

The irony.

Anyway, Lachlan, there have been so many times this year that I have been my less-perfect self and what a gift it is. What a release. I’ve been late! I’ve had food crusted on my shirt! I’ve been un-showered! I’ve flaked on commitments! The house has been a wreck for days (weeks?). There are piles of laundry that just never, ever get folded. I’ve forgotten diapers and wipes and outfits and food. I’ve dropped the ball at work. I’ve lost track of…everything. For someone who has managed to be pretty on top of her life, the loss of that delusion of control is difficult. But when I think back on the year, I know that I don’t want to pass on the twitchy perfectionism that has gotten in the way of a good enough life that is overflowing with the joy of daily moments that are lost to excessive countertop scrubbing. I want to play with you more than I clean with you. I want to be with you more than I want to control the components of our life. I hope. (I pray.) I will. I intend to.

How have you helped me learn this? Because I love you so much. Because if I want to be close to you it means I’m covered in dirt and pureed apple and breastmilk and spit and boogers (and poop). Because if I want to spend time with you (or time sleeping) I’ve got zero time for dishes or showers or chair straightening. Because you exist and because you’ve shifted the paradigm…it can all fall apart. Read: be as it always has been.

Two: As a control-freak/perfectionist/planner, I often planned for the things that could go wrong. I was prepared. It helped! It meant I often had a solution at hand. I think I avoided so many “mistakes.” It also led me to believe that was the only way to operate. That winging it wasn’t sufficient. Becoming a parent has taught me that I have a deep, human ability to improvise, moment by moment. Baby not sleeping on vacation? What does the book say to do? Screw it. What does my intuition say to do here? No wipes and poop explosion in the car? T-shirt! Tissues. Whatever is there. I am definitely thinking less, doing less of the “crushing problems with my mind vice” because the limitations of said brain have been reached. Thinking about what could go wrong also robs me of the pleasure of the moment right in front of me. Learning to trust that IF something “goes wrong” (read: goes differently than I imagined, not wrong), that in the moment, I’ll have the solution. It feels like a superpower I’ve always had that I never knew about. The world can feel like it’s exploding and I will make my way forward anyway. I want you to know that you have this gift, too. We all do, but we — planners and control freaks — rarely make use of it. The world encourages preparation and control, so to lose it is failure, rather than an opportunity to create something.

As my friend said, may you be blessed with many birthdays. I hope the house is dirtier next time.

Always,

Your Mama

Miranda Paris Holder

Written by

Miranda is a new mom, a leadership coach and a recovering perfectionist and overachiever living the slow life in rural Vermont.

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