Wait, Where’s the Part Where I’m Perfect?

I was three years old, and I was learning to tie my shoes.

I had just failed with the clumsy laces for the millionth time (Does the rabbit run around the hole or through it first?  What is this rabbit running from?  Does anyone else think that shoelaces look nothing like a rabbit?)  My mom showed me how to do it again, perfectly tying her shoes on the first try.

Tears filled my eyes, I threw my shoe down, and I said, “I wish I was a grown-up.  I can’t wait until I understand everything and never make mistakes again.”

Oh poor baby Hazel, if you only knew.  My mom told me what I said wasn’t true, but I didn’t believe her.  I never saw her with untied shoes.  I never saw her in time-out.  Clearly her life was perfect.

I’m having one of those weeks where I have the opposite of the Midas touch: instead of everything I touch turning to gold, everything I touch is turning to poo.  I got to work late three out of five days this week. I made a parent mad with one of my lesson plans (even though I worked so hard on it!).  I dropped the football on a key play during a staff football game.  I got rejected by another agent who showed interest in my book (I know people say that rejection is part of a writer’s life, which is true, but – crazy thought here – is acceptance ever a part of it?  Ever??).  I even made a big mistake on this blog. I unintentionally wrote something hurtful and offensive in my last post, and I hope anyone who saw it will accept my sincerest apology.  I truly didn’t mean to hurt anyone, and I was being thoughtless with my words because I was angry.  I had no malicious intent.  Scout’s honor, it will not happen again.

Dang – good thing I’m not actually a scout.  If I was trying to survive in the wilderness this week, I’d be dead for sure.  I was a girl scout in second grade only.  I sold cookies and did a report on Kenya.  I hope that’s enough to make my aforementioned “scout’s honor” legitimate.  If not, invent another promise for yourself.  I’ll promise that instead.

Other jobs I’m thankful to not have this week: surgeon (mistakes would kill people), the person in charge of our nuclear arsenal (mistakes would kill a lot of people), veterinarian (mistakes could kill puppies), stock broker (mistakes could cost people millions), Trump’s public relations manager (because that job would just suck in general).

I wish that there was some age where suddenly mistakes evaporated and I could effectively do all the things, but if there’s an age where that happens then I know I haven’t hit it yet.  It should have kicked in by now, because I’m pretty adult on all levels: I’m married.  I have a full-time job.  I have a house.  I consistently tie my own shoes without error.

Then again, I occasionally have ice cream for breakfast and my favorite color is still sparkles.  I tell people it’s teal so I don’t sound like I’m four, but I don’t think I ever fully grew out of “my favorite color is sparkles.”  Maybe this means I’m not a full adult yet.  There is still hope for my dream of perfection!!

Well, no there’s not, but I still feel a little let down by adulthood.  I feel like I let people down more consistently than I make anyone smile, and I always hoped I would grow out of that one day.  Especially this week, I feel like my life is one mistake after another.

Whoa, hold on, this post is teetering on the edge of the rocky cliff marked “Pity Party.”  If there’s one party I don’t want to join, it’s that one.  Let’s turn this ship around quickly, people (don’t ask why my ship is on a rocky cliff.  My blog, my rules.  My ship needs no water).  Instead of a pity party, let’s go to the kind of party where a guinea pig wears a sombrero.

sombrero

Phewf!  Way better.  Don’t ask me what kind of party that is, but I want to be there.  He’s wearing a sombrero.

Cheers to a weekend reset and hopefully a better week next week.

 

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15 thoughts on “Wait, Where’s the Part Where I’m Perfect?

  1. I want to come to the party ! (the one with the Guinea pig , he’s adorable).
    But seriously , being an adult is not all I thought it was either. I thought that adults were perfect and they could do anything they wanted. Now I’m here and it doesn’t work that way.
    You are doing a good job adulting. The real adulting , not the pretend perfection stuff. I’m proud of you , and I’m thankful to have your blog to read , because even in your angry posts you are real and human, and it lets others know that it’s ok to be real and human too.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks…That seriously made my day to see that comment. It’s good to know that people aren’t going to hate me for making mistakes. If I can make someone else feel better when I have a losery moment, then maybe it was a little bit worth it. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Maybe you’d already changed it before I read it, but if your last post is what I read today, then I didn’t think it was hurtful or offensive. Maybe that makes me imperfect, too? But seriously, you’re allowed to be indignant when people are hurtful. That woman sounded very hurtful. It’s okay to be honest about how that made you felt. You didn’t say, “I hope she goes to hell a million times after being dropped in a pool of hydrochloric acid” – because that’s just not where your heart is. Or mine. For real.
    Regarding this post, you have me laughing again! This is the thing, though – if you were perfect, you wouldn’t be relatable. You wouldn’t be able to write with such grace and character. You wouldn’t be touching people’s lives the way you are (is that sappy? sorry!).
    Anyway, I hope that you lose the anti-Midas touch soon and that instead, everything you touch turns to chocolate. Or jelly beans. Or insert your favorite candy. That would be a lot more convenient than poo or gold!!
    Hugs,
    Lily

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Also, P.S. – It’s okay if you don’t want to have a pity party, but it’s also okay if you do. I try not to have too many “real life” pity parties, but I work through feeling all sorts of sorry for myself on my blog, and I’ve learned that it’s okay for me to do that, and I always appreciate when people like you are willing to sit with me in it. I’d def be willing to come to your pity party bearing puppies, kittens, pizza, and a shoulder to cry on, if you ever want / need to have one. 😉 ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you – that is really sweet of you to say that. Sometimes I feel like all of my posts have to be funny, but sometimes the last thing in the world I feel like doing is being funny. I admire how real and raw you are on your blog, but I don’t know if I could do that. It’s good to know that if I need to have a pity party, at least one person will be there for me in it!

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Love you, even with all your imperfections. Sparkles is a perfectly acceptable favourite color (own it!!).

    Hugs from South Asia. It’s Gandhi Jyanti today, so we on the Indian subcontinent are celebrating freedom. Celebrate yours today – God created one Hazel Hillboro, and He made her to be free. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  5. This post made me tear up….. Adulting sucks. The end. Seriously. I think you are doing a good job adullting – which is more than a lot of people can say (or do). As for your last post – it’s your blog. Don’t edit yourself, please. Part of being an adult is taking the responsibility of recognizing other’s feelings (hey, that is a growing step with bipolar as well – that’s TWO growth steps!!!!!). So apologize if you need to (and thank you for doing so, because it did kind of surprise me), but never ever never edit or watch yourself on YOUR blog. If some of us take a little offense, it’s our problem. You write from the heart and THAT is what we all come to read and appreciate. And yes to sparkles as well – shiny shimmery splendid is a great color!!!!! (thanks, Aladdin!)

    Like

  6. I wanna come to a guinea pig in Mexican hats party!!

    Being a grown up..and worse sometimes..a PARENT..sucks poo covered donkey balls. There are days when I would love to go “Um..yeah. I can’t adult today. Can I take a pass and spend the day in bed watching episodes of Firefly and eating nothing but Ben&Jerry’s Phish Food please?”

    I SO wish it worked that way. It doesn’t..but there are days when I wish it did.

    Like

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