Embracing Imperfection

I've been working non-stop for the last few days to finish up a deadline that got pushed off because MY BACK IS KILLING ME. (Tired of hearing about my back yet? So am I! I just made an appointment for a physical therapist on Monday. Let's hope we get this nightmare figured out soon.)

Last night, I finally made it over to my parents' house to catch up with them. I was greeted with a lovely surprise. My mother had drug all of her old needlepoint, cross stitching, and crewel embroidery works out from the depths of Nerdtopia. A few of the pieces gave me instant flashbacks to my childhood. I remember these decorations hanging up around the house at different points in time. Ah, memories. 

Off to the side, I found an old drawing I had made that Ma had framed and displayed in the house for a long time. In the drawing, I could see eraser marks from where I'd started over a few times. It was a far cry from something that should be framed. It was a silly, random kid drawing. But there is was, still in the frame and ready to be hung again, 25 years after I made it. I was quite surprised and touched.

When I was a little girl, Ma had a needlepoint group that she met with sometimes. I remember going to the group. The ladies all sat around with their bags of materials and intricate, stitched creations. As a grown woman, I can only IMAGINE how annoying it must have been for all involved to have a kiddo running around--in my memory, I'm the only kid there for some reason. But now I hold these memories dear because I was spending time with Ma, and she was teaching me a trade that I would eventually come back to decades later.

Isn't it interesting how we think we will NEVER be like our mothers, but we do end up with so many of their quirks? I know I have a lot of my mother's characteristics -- some good, some bad. And as Dorothy gets older, I see many of my mother's characteristics popping up in her, too. We are both Ma Blonderson in our own ways.

One thing I really like about Ma is that her own art doesn't have to be done perfectly. When she's painting with Little or making some creation, there is a moment for her when it's good enough. She's a perfectionist in many ways, but she also knows when to throw in the towel. OK, that's fine. Let's move on to something else. In direct contrast to this is my father. He's an engineer, so whatever it is, it has to be perfect. Measure twice, cut once. Make a spreadsheet. Draw up the plans for months. Use a ruler and graph paper and make it EXACTLY like the drawing. So as a product of both of these people, I find myself longing for the engineering perfection while also wanting to just finish whatever it is and move on to the next thing. It's an internal battle.

As I looked at Ma's little needlework items last night, I realized that they aren't perfect, but they sure are pretty. And look at how much enjoyment we can still get out of them all these years later! They are filled with memories of Ma's friends, my goofy 70s–80s childhood, Ma's mother Gran, and the joy of imperfect art.

Ma's works were a fun thing to look at, but they're also a good lesson for me at this point in my life. As I work on my creativity (and mental health), I will also work to embrace my flaws and imperfections. I will push down the Exact Measurements part of me and pull up the carefree, seat-of-my-pants side. Ma was always ready and willing to do projects with me when I was young, and she encouraged me to be proud of my work. She framed those funny masterpieces and hung them on her walls -- even when they were ridiculous. I love that. What a good Ma.

Thank you, Ma, for reminding me to cherish my creative side -- and for continuing to nurture it even now. XXOO, Daughter #2