I used to be a perfectionist. Ask Donald, he'll tell you. I would freak out if there was even a pair of socks lying on the floor.
Lately I've let go.
I'm enjoying life as I have it right now with three little ones and a husband.
Sometimes (most of the time) having three little ones and a husband means that the house is not always in order.
Sometimes there are shoes, jackets, and yes, even socks lying on the floor. Also to be found strewn about are toys, books, and scraps from whatever project the girls are working on (they have a love of paper).
I've learned that it's okay.
For example, a week or so ago Lorelai's green boots were in the front entry next to a brightly colored beach ball.
The old me would have picked it all up right away and put everything in its proper place.
But I left it all where it was.
This is a big improvement for a recovering perfectionist.
A short while later my mother-in-law, Susan, stopped by. She immediately took notice of the green boots and brightly colored beach ball.
"Look how cute that is," she said.
"I thought so too," I replied.
I briefly explained how I had deliberately left the items out. Susan knows me well. She knew me back in the days when I threw fits over socks being out in the middle of the floor, so she knew that this was a big accomplishment for me.
We then had a nice discussion about how a home should look lived in....and we both agreed that perfect is completely overrated.
(But I still don't like clutter.)
