Friday, July 3, 2015

Perfect Life

My heart feels a little unsettled at I sit here, wondering what to type and how to type it. There are days when it seems like even the sun is shining my way, and then there are days I don't even see the sun. Today isn't like either of those, actually. It's just a normal day with normal stuff happening, yet I can't get rid of this agitated feeling way down in the pit of my stomach.

I think part of the reason is that my Type A personality doesn't like to relax. (It has only been in the last few weeks that I have really begun to realize that I am a Type A personality. Up until this point in life, I have occasionally wondered, but not enough to really care. Then during a random conversation about randomness, a friend said to me "Let me guess, you are Type A with perfectionist tendencies" and I was like "weeeeeellll, I don't know, I'm not all that organized", but when I relayed that conversation to my sister, she snorted into the phone and laughed. "At least Type A is not how you see yourself", she said. Oh. Hm. I guess my labeled fridge was a clue to my Type A tendencies. The funniest thing is when people put things back in the fridge and go "I didn't know where to put it." The whole thing is labeled. And don't try to put the ketchup with the dressing. I will catch it every single time.  Just ask the fam. They love this about me.) I keep thinking I'd like to pick up the book I've been reading, because Grace is really starting to pick up the pieces after her divorce, but I can't seem to get ahead with laundry and dishes and Lord knows Jack's room has been patiently awaiting the final touches on it's makeover, so I push those sit down and read thoughts aside and give myself a spunky pep-talk about real life and getting things done and who do you think you are anyway, Nikki Newman? (Yes, I'll take a scotch in evening wear at 10AM.)

I love Apple. I love the Apple Family Share plan, where kids can have their own AppleID, but all requests must go through--you guessed it--me. And if I don't approve it, she don't get it. She also don't like this set-up so much, but I just tell her "Hey, you know, it's the way Apple set it up. Don't blame me." Anyways, one of the apps she recently requested was an app that counts your followers, your likes, your unfollows, and tells you if you're more popular than your friends on Instagram. (Rated okay for ages 4+, it was pointed out to me.) So I see this as a) trouble, b) stupid and c) trouble. So of course I politely declined her request, which sends a text back to her iPod, informing her of my decision. I really love that communication has been reduced to texting each other, especially when we are in the same house. Especially especially when we are in the same room. (Don't pretend you haven't done that.)

She doesn't let things like that slip past unnoticed.

"Moo-oooo-oooo-ooom," she started. (Sometimes I don't want to hear that word called "mom".) "You said I couldn't get that app!"

Clearly. Not news to me.

I don't like rates and all that nonsense on Instagram. I don't like kids comparing and seeing who's more popular. It would make me feel bad, as I assume I would probably one of the ones who wouldn't get a lot of likes, and from the news that makes headlines, it would seem it's been making other people feel bad, too. Teen suicide, especially due to bullying and hate, is a scary, scary thing. Anyways, I simply told her that something like that would make me feel bad and might make other people feel bad, so, in a word. No.

A little bit of drama has occurred this week, which is why you haven't heard from me. Tuesday afternoon I rolled over a screw, which embedded itself in my tire, slowly leaking enough air that my sensor caught it and warned me AIR IN RR TIRE LOW. Which what am I supposed to do with that when I'm rushing around trying to get people everywhere they need to be? That is an annoying message to get right when you are trying to leave.  I went to Paint Nite with a RR TIRE LOW. Have y'all done Paint Nite? I'm still iffy on the whole concept of mixing alcohol and painting, but mine turned out well enough to store in the back of the basement. (I had thought perhaps I could manage a painting. I mean, I like to draw, right, so it made sense in my head that a painting would turn out exactly as I thought it should. (Read: perfect.)) By the time I got home, my tire pressure was so low that I thought it would be good to change it for the spare so it wouldn't be totally flat in the morning. The guy I love who actually had to change the tire at 10PM wasn't so thrilled about it.

But honestly, most of the drama has been in my own head. Sometimes we think there is drama or we seek out drama where it doesn't exist. And then what was a normal day becomes this big thing. And part of my thing this week was I can't paint and I can't write with big imaginary emoji frowny faces at the end. I suppose I connected the two because I thought I could and sometimes it doesn't turn out perfect so I think I can't. Or I compare to what someone else has done or painted or written and then I think I really, definitely can't. So then I don't, and it becomes a thing.

I don't think life always has to become a thing.

This is why I have decided (today) to just accept a few things about myself and life and then move on. It's so much easier than dwelling on a thing.

1. I might have a Type A, perfectionist personality. I don't have to fight myself on what I think I am versus what I actually am anymore. I am a work in progress.
2. I'm allowed to say No to my child and have that be the final say. Just no. Parent. Child. NO.
3. Rating each other is a bad idea.
4. Flat tires happen. Firestone can typically help.
5. Paint Nite isn't for everybody. It's okay.
6. I like to write, so I do.
7. Perfection does not exist. Not here, anyway.

It's the weekend. It doesn't have to be perfect to be enjoyable.

Have a happy 4th!

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