I've been busy being in "good enough" mode. I'd forgotten how beneficial it is to all of us when I step up from "giving up" but stop short of perfectionism. "Good enough" means I value highly my role as manager of our home, living out my gratitude for this privilege of nurturing and serving these five other Sabourins I'm eternally connected to by fighting hard against my impulsivity. My impulsivity takes many less than productive forms, not the least of which is procrastination. A trashed kitchen and overflowing laundry baskets can have me internet surfing and random errand running if I don't watch it. And then I get further behind, and even more impulsive. It's an ugly, disconcerting cycle, let me assure you.
And "Good Enough" means I don't sweat the small stuff, because life is short.
It's funny the things that slap sense into me. The most recent being a memoir I'm reading called "The Zoo Keeper's Wife" about a Polish couple who risked everything to help Jews during WWII. Antonia, the heroine, was a hard, hard worker, carrying for years an inconceivably heavy burden of stress and fear. Oh, how I admire her. And imitation being the highest form of flattery, so they say, I've stepped up my efforts at maintaining some semblance of order within this zoo I'm blessed to dwell in. By "order" I mean keeping the rooms of this ancient house uncluttered, but not necessarily dusted. It means knowing in advance what we will have for dinner, but being ok with relying on frozen meatballs from Costco. It means cleaning out the van, which today included the removal of:
a half eaten banana
two apple cores
a crumpled play script
an alligator head
a broken umbrella
two empty Caprisun pouches
a hair brush
and a filthy pair of athletic socks
...but not vacuuming it.
It means ironing my husband's work shirts when I don't want to. It means packing lunches the night before so our mornings aren't quite as nuts. It means finding contentment that is elusive when my own needs and wants come first. And yet it also means loving myself by not allowing myself to be absolutely ruled by chaos.
And now I must help my big ones with homework and my little ones with their bedtime routine. I can only maintain this "good enough" gig one minute and one prayer (Please help me stay focused and pliable, please help me stay focused and pliable) at a time.