All I want for Christmas is...

Perfection.

That's not asking too much, is it? I want perfect children, a perfectly kept house, perfect health, perfect relationships, and a perfect husband. I mean really, it's not too much to ask for all that, is it?

Who came up with this idea anyway that makes us constantly second guess ourselves, and stress ourselves out to make everything perfect. What makes us compare ourselves to our neighbors and wonder why we can't be just like her. I mean, she's perfect in every way, right?

I found myself sitting on my 24 hour clean kitchen floor and disgustedly picking up pieces of chocolate. Seriously, stick your head over the table!!

Then I thought, why? Why do I care? Does it matter if my floor can stay clean for less than two point three seconds? Does it matter that I had laundry and toys scattered hither and yon when my neighbor stopped by? Why am I embarrassed about it? Why do I apologize?

Because somewhere, we were all programmed that our best is never enough. I know I'm not alone in this. I've talked to enough women to know that it's a fairly universal problem. We compare ourselves to each other never taking into consideration each other's flaws. What a strange thing to do.

I don't really want perfection. Well, I do. Sometimes. I'd love to have those perfectly well-behaved children who are always perfectly groomed. But then I think of all the things I'd miss out on if I truly found perfection. I'd miss out on Odessa soaking her PJ's five minutes after putting them on her. I'd miss out on watching my children learn independance when making the decision to go to the store with bed-head instead of nicely done hair. I'd miss out on mud, and mess and chaos.

And while I think it would be nice sometimes, I don't really want perfection. Not really. I promise.