On the quest for perfection....Warning: LONG...

So, today was a less-than-perfect day. Matthias was a bit fussy this morning, and I figured that as long as he had a good poop, a good burp, and a good feed, he would be ready for his new adventure--hanging out at the school for an hour while I taught music to the entire student body of three siblings.

Matthias accomplished the good burp and the good feeding, so we took off. I had a jam-packed, musical hour planned. Twenty minutes of music making, followed by twenty of music theory, followed by twenty of music appreciation.  Perfect, I thought. I should have all my bases covered. When I arrived, though, I visited with the students for about 20 minutes while their teacher took a phone call. After all, I hadn't seen the kids since May, kids I've spent nine months each year for the past 5 years. We had some catching up to do.

The teacher got off the phone with the "powers that be" at the state education department who were displeased that some certain form hadn't been filled out in a certain way or on a certain date or something (I got soooo many of those calls!).  I handed her my little baby bundle and figured on entertaining them with some review songs. Before long, I heard Matthias' customary scream of displeasure. I was really surprised, since I had successfully left him with a grandma-friend during my set at the Miles City bluegrass festival the weekend before.  Maybe I hadn't fed him enough...or maybe that burp left a gigantic space in his belly that could only be satisifed by me. So I fed him, and the students went back to their schoolwork.

By the time I got back to my guitar, Matthias had started screaming once more. Long story short, he decided he wanted Mommy today, and only Mommy. We sang a few songs, and that was the music class for the day. I was disappointed.

That got me to thinking this evening about we humans' quest for perfection. We plan--or try to plan--everything in our lives down to each ridiculous minute. I was going to teach music today, and that was that. I was going to jam in Miles City until 9:30, and that was that. Other than those things, I have found myself refreshingly unperfectionistic lately.  But I remember the days that I wasn't, and how hard it was. I remember teaching and reteaching concepts, only to have them met with blank stares. "(student) is a fourth grader," I thought. "(student) should know the difference between a small and a capital L." Today I found out that student, now a fair bit older, still hasn't mastered the concept.

There was the day that I would have gone home feeling like a failure. I wanted music to go differently. I wanted my student to learn his "L's." What could have I done to help Matthias feel at ease? Why did I fail?
That feeling extended into the rest of my life, as well, trying product after product because "this" was going to make my hair/skin/house/health perfect! All I ended up with was a closet full of junk that I never used.

No more! Whatever I could have done to keep Matthias from screaming, I didn't do it. Next time will be better. However I could have drilled it into my student's head to recognize the Ls, I didn't do it. He learned to excel at many other things. I didn't fail. No magic product is going to make my hair keep from breaking or my floors from getting dirty, either.

So many times I see people seeking perfection in every single thing. I used to wonder why I couldn't be more like that...learn not to make mistakes. Learn to try harder. Especially when perfection-seekers hinted that, whatever went wrong, could have been prevented if I had (fill in the blank). What I ended up learning is that there's no such thing as perfection in our lives here on Earth, and no amount of beating ourselves up will create it. A perfect day can happen, but it's not made by my own plans. Whatever I did beforehand, it wasn't preventable by the time that things stopped going according to plan.  If there's anything having a child has taught me, it's that perfection has nothing to do with life going according to plan.

The Good Book

This is the book of which I speak. Not to be confused with the real Good Book, which Matthias will also get plenty of.

 This is the face he gets--one of the faces he gets--when the book is read to him.

Okay, maybe it looks like he's less than thrilled. I don't have the knack with a camera that my sister does, so most of his photos end up with him looking scared or somewhat drugged. But in the tiny thumbnail that I previewed while choosing a picture, he looked exceedingly happy. Let's try again!

Nope. Moving on, let me tell you about the book that has been Matthias' favorite since he was about 4 or 5 weeks old. That's when he started smiling every time we read him the book. The title is How Big? and follows a predictable pattern of "Baby (animal) is So Big! How big is baby?" (lift flap to reveal picture of baby) "So Big!" His favorite animal is "Baby Penguin." He lights up and coos every time he sees the little, black-and-white cartoon guy.

I have been working on getting him to smile and coo with glee while I record him, but, as with his photographs, you're going to have to take my word for it. He really does demonstrate pure glee when he reads this book! Great-Auntie Linda has some pictures that might show better proof, but until I have those, the above ones will have to serve as proof.