THE DAY MY EARTH SHOOK

I don't know if it is my natural maternalistic compulsion or some fabricated notion that my infertility devised... PERFECTION. Maybe it happened the moment my OBGYN said "You have PCOS and it's most likely going to be very difficult to conceive," that I felt a urning pull toward motherhood and the desire to make my motherhood experience perfect. Twenty four seven I expected perfection. Or maybe it happened the very moment when baby Layla was placed in my arms and the sense of feeling like I had to somehow be a better mother to this spirit than her birth mom would have been. Who knows? I can't really trace the notion back to it's original millisecond of conception... I just know it has been on the foreground of my daily routine over the past three years that I've been in the matriarch role. The need for the perfectly organized diaper bag, the immaculate interior of my car, the always dressed and hair done children, the ever prepared woman with a back up outfit and enough diapers to outlast any mishap, the spotless carseat, the unmistakably labeled formula canister... I had the inner most desire for it to always be perfect. I never thought I'd be legitimate enough to actually belong in the baby isle let alone own half of the items stocking it. So why wouldn't I want it all to be perfect?

 Because once upon a time, it was only a fantasy.

Last Wednesday at approximately 10:30 am - I let a BIG piece of my perfectionism go. Not all of it, but a BIG piece. I was at the park with all three children, meeting with the mothers involved in Layla's Joy School to plan the curriculum. I had set a blanket out on the grass with a plethora of various toys and goodies to keep Rider entertained for a month. I fully expected my walking mischievous male toddler to stay on the blanket... Layla always did. A few moments later I turned to find my son sitting in the one and only puddle left from the earlier watering of the sprinklers. My heart leapt up into my throat and acute panic set into my body pumping full of maxed out blood pressure!!!! Ahhhh! What am I to do!!!??? There he sat, happy, intrigued, splashing and smiling. He even doused his favorite "rug" or soft blanky with the new found wetness he'd independently discovered. I slowed my racing thoughts of how to fix this, I concentrated on his joy, and I asked myself three simple questions:
"What's the worst that could happen?" (this doesn't usually work for a polarized thinker like myself)
"Is he safe?"
"Is he happy?"
And at that instant - I was able to recognize the moment I stepped away from the surface of motherhood and stepped deeper into my real job as a mother. So what!? So he has to ride home in the car in just a diaper?! So I have to wash his rug when I get home! SO FREAKING WHAT. Wow, that felt SO GREAT TO LET GO!!!! It's like the Earth shook and I rattled around like marble in a maze and I couldn't believe how good it felt to let go of the perfection. My findings became so obvious to me: I'm not a mother so my kids life will be perfect and in control at every moment. I AM a mother so that I can guide them, allow life experience while maintaining safety, love my children and let them have joy. Sometimes joy comes from messiness. Sometimes fun comes from unpreparedness. Sometimes joy comes from organization and planning. I'm learning to let my children experience a little more of the joy that comes from the messiness - and I think they're loving every minute of it so far.