One of the great things about embracing imperfection is laughing at yourself when things don't go as perfectly as you planned. I thought I would share a few imperfect moments that also ended up being important teachable moments for me.
My first story takes place after a presentation I gave a few weeks ago. An audience member came up to me and politely said, "I'm not sure if you want that there, but I thought I should tell you that you have a post-it note stuck to your leg."
I burst out laughing - partly because I was embarrassed, but mostly because I thought it was hilarious that the person prefaced his statement with "I'm not if you want that there..." Why yes, sir. Sticking post-it notes on my leg is a common habit of mine. Who doesn't check their legs when trying to remember something?
I wish I could say this is the first time something like this has happened to me, but it's not. A couple of years ago, after I spent an entire afternoon walking around a university campus, a colleague stopped me and said, "Do you want that there?" He was looking at my winter hat. I gave him a confused look that clearly told him I had no idea what he was talking about, and so he reached for my hat and peeled off a - you guessed it - post-it note!
I love how the first thing everyone asks is whether I purposely put the post-it note on my body. Is that a thing for some people? I'm not sure how sticking a post-it note on your head would be helpful...unless you look in the mirror a lot (which clearly I do not considering the number of times I walk around with post-its unknowingly stuck to me).
You may be wondering how this happens to me. Just imagine an office covered in post-it notes, and because I am not very organized, these post-it notes can sometimes end up anywhere. If I lay my hat on my desk or if a post-it falls on my chair...BAM! A post-it note can easily end up on my head or leg.
Enough about post-it notes. Now on to my second story...
A couple of weeks ago, my daughter (E) had a dentist appointment that I was dreading. I scheduled her first dentist appointment about a month ago. I had a feeling that she had a cavity...maybe more than one. She wasn't complaining about her teeth, but there were spots on her teeth that made me think she had cavities. Oh, the guilt I felt. The dentist confirmed that she did have one very small cavity, but that the rest were just stains (she apparently has deep grooves in her teeth). Although I was relieved there was only one cavity, I still felt terrible that there was even one. There is no need to mom-shame me. I have already given myself a killer guilt trip about this.
Our dentist said the cavity was so small that there was no need to use anything for pain. However, whether he could do it would all depend on whether she would open wide enough and hold still long enough. If she didn't hold still, we would have to look into a pediatric dentist who would likely put her under to fill the cavity. Although I knew this would be perfectly safe, the thought of this still made me nervous. But I was also terrified about getting the cavity filled without anything to numb the pain. What if she moved? Could the dentist hit another tooth by mistake? What if she cried the entire time? I didn't want her to be traumatized (especially because she LOVED her first visit to the dentist).
And so the appointment hung over my head for the four weeks in between her appointments. The thought of her cavity probably crossed my mind every day. I was afraid she would get hurt. I was worried that the dentist wouldn't be able to do it, and we would have to reschedule and wait all over again. I was scared that she would be scared. I felt incredibly guilty and sad that she had a cavity at all.
Her appointment was on a Monday, and on Mondays we usually go to toddler time gymnastics, and from there we go to story time at our library. Because toddler time is a drop-in class, I don't push E if she wants to have a morning at home because Mondays are really her only weekday morning to relax. On that particular Monday, E asked to stay home, and I agreed. After all, we would go to story time, and then immediately leave after to go to the dentist. I was still a nervous wreck about this appointment. It was a big day, and a relaxing morning sounded perfect...for both of us.
In my mind, I knew I had to be at the dentist at noon, so we should leave the library just after 11:30 to make sure we arrived on time. Around 10:30, we started to get ready, piled in the car at 11, and started driving to story time. We drove about a mile, and it dawned on me: story time started at 11, and we were missing it.
Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. This was our sixth week of story time, how could I have forgotten this? I had the time of 11:30 in my head because of the dentist, but story time didn't start at 11:30...it ended at 11:30. And I knew this, but somehow the times got all mixed up in my head, and I got it wrong. I thought about still going, but by the time we would get there and park, it would almost be time to leave again, and that would just be a lot of stressful running around, so I turned around and said, "Mommy forgot what time story time started today. We are going home." E started crying, "What about the dentist???" Apparently my daughter loves the dentist more than story time. This was such a relief, but it also sort of broke my heart because she had no idea what was going to happen there today.
I explained that we would still go to the dentist, but the dentist wasn't ready for us quite yet, so we were going home to play a little, and then we would head back out to drive to the dentist. We spent the next half an hour working on a Halloween craft. I felt guilty (yet again) that we missed story time. The perfectionist within me wanted to beat myself up with the usual dialogue: "What's wrong with you? You really blew it today! Look at all the moms who juggle the schedules of 2 or 3 or even 4 kids, and you can't even handle one!" But I stopped myself. Instead, I chose to have compassion for myself and to be kind. I told myself, "You have been really nervous about today. This appointment has been weighing heavily on your mind...it is no wonder that you mixed up the times. Besides, your mistake gave you extra time at home with E." We probably wouldn't have gotten to the crafts if we had gone to story time.
Although this probably doesn't sound like much, this kindness that I gave myself was not something that came easily to me. Being hard on myself and expecting more from myself comes much more naturally. This kind of compassion was a big deal, and I thanked myself for it.
And E did a beautiful job at the dentist, and she can't wait to go back. Crisis averted.
Now on to my final story...
Our town holds a "Breakfast with Santa" event in December. There are only a limited number of seats, so it is necessary to reserve your tickets in advance. When I realized tickets had already gone on sale, I felt the need to call ASAP to snag our tickets. While I walked from a coffee bar back to my office, I looked up the event on my phone (yes, I am sometimes one of those annoying people who walks while looking at her phone). I found the website and clicked on the number. After a few rings, the call went to a man's voicemail, so I briefly explained that I would like to have breakfast with Santa, left my name and number, and hung up.
When I got back to my office, I reviewed the website more carefully. I was trying to figure out if the tickets had sold out. Something made me double check the number on the website and the number my phone dialed. The number that was linked on the website transposed two of the numbers! I clicked it again, just to be sure and compared the actual number to the number my phone was dialing. Yes, two of the numbers were switched.
I immediately dialed the correct number and was able to make our reservation. Before hanging up, I thought I better tell the woman on the phone what happened. I started to explain, "I clicked on the number on the website, but the number that is linked is actually incorrect." I continued, "The number goes to a man's voicemail, and..." At this point I started laughing uncontrollably because it just dawned on me how hilarious this was. In between laughter, I continued: "I left a message, and so this poor man is going to hear some strange woman on his voicemail telling him that she would like to have breakfast with Santa ." I mean, can you imagine if you received that voicemail?
The best part was, I didn't even provide context for my message. I didn't say, "I am inquiring about the Breakfast with Santa event." I simply said, "I would like to have Breakfast with Santa," and then left my name and number. I was originally so focused on the mistake and fixing the mistake that I didn't even realize how silly this situation was until I tried to explain it. It may not sound as funny as it felt in that moment, but I got a wonderful belly laugh out of the ordeal, and I continue to laugh about it when I share the story.
Also, the nice man did return my call. His message went something like this: "This message is for Beth. It is my understanding that you would like to have breakfast with Santa. The correct number that you are looking for is..." He was so kind. He probably didn't want to ruin some woman's Christmas by making her miss her chance to have Breakfast with Santa Claus.
These three stories remind me to be kind to myself, to laugh at myself, and to find the humor in my mistakes. I could have easily felt angry or annoyed in any of these moments, but instead, I took it all in stride (which does not happen very often). I gave myself a break when I forgot something, and I laughed in my imperfect moments. When I messed up, I didn't beat myself up or try to blame someone else. And because of these imperfect moments, I even have a few great stories to share.
So, embrace the imperfect moments in your life. Be kind to yourself, and if something is imperfectly funny...laugh.
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