I was having a moment a few nights ago as I was drifting off to sleep. My subconscious took over early and there may have been some hormones involved…
It started innocently enough with gratitude. I am so incredibly in love with my family.
You kids are awesome little people and I obviously love you, but it’s more than that. I LIKE you. I’m excited to get home and see you. I curse at traffic that makes me wait longer to be with you. I genuinely enjoy you guys and that makes me feel like the luckiest person in the world.
I love your Dad. I love ‘us’. I like who I am when I’m with him and I’m constantly surprised by how special he makes me feel. He impresses me all the time; as a father, as a professional, as a man. He’s so cool, and funny, and for some reason he hangs out with me; he likes hanging out with me! He finds out what I like and makes it a priority. He brings me flowers just because. Pinch me!
I was on cloud nine thinking about these things. I thought; it’s perfect.
And suddenly, the good feeling was gone. Thanks, hormones.
I thought, what had I done to deserve so much? Could it last? Was the other cosmic foot about to fall? The thoughts of a restless brain that needs rest.
But then I thought, it’s not actually perfect. We have a messy life (and house). Relationships are messy; yes with spouses, but the ones with your own kids, too. There are tears, there is shouting, there is disappointment. There are mistakes. There are flaws. There is stress.
And that made me feel better. Because flaws make a thing real and effort makes things last. It’s not luck that I like my family. It’s the conscious & unconscious effort on the part of each member of it. It’s humility and compromises and the very unsexy nitty-gritty of life. It’s teamwork. And it’s the best part of us.
In pottery, there is the occasional practice of taking a piece that didn’t work out like it should have and firing it anyway; taking the piece as it is. I think they call it a ‘flop pot’. I have one.
I made it in a pottery class several years ago. It’s not symmetrical, it’s incredibly bottom-heavy, and it is by no means the proper cup it was supposed to be. But, I put a lot of work in to it, literally bled from pressing against its gritty clay, and it is just what I need it to be. I love it. I’m proud of it. It makes me happy. It’s perfect for me, because of its flaws.
It’s like my little family and our beautiful flaws; from my horrible cooking, to the obnoxious fart jokes, to our constant lateness, and -yes- even unexpected hormones in the middle of the night.
Imperfectly perfect. And maybe just a little bit lucky 😉