Lessons to be learned from Daughters

I’m visiting with Alex about her environmental project for science. She had to analyze the impact of letting water run while you brush your teeth.

“So, how’d ya do?”

“Well, most kids just measured the amount of water by inches in the sink, like I did at first. I was the only one who actually measured the capacity.”

I’m beaming with pride. “So, did you get the highest marks?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I got good marks.”

“But were they the highest marks in the class?”

Shrugs again, “Hannah’s might have been better.”

“Oh, really?" I inquire, wondering how Alex could have done even better. "What did Hannah do to get higher marks?”

“I don't know, Mom! I did good. That’s all I care about.”

Nothing like having a well-balanced daughter to set me straight. I’ve learned, most recently, in a profile assessment that I’m plagued with a personality trait called perfectionism. CLARIFICATION: This doesn’t mean I have a tidy house, for those of you who know me well… There are many versions of perfectionism – my particular form has to do with certain things never quite being good enough. Apparently a few of my standards are unrealistic.

So, I stop the conversation. Then I hug my daughter. "I love you, Alex. Great job on the assignment."

If she doesn't grow up hating me, it will be a miracle. Luckily, I believe in miracles.

The Frustration of an Artist

Mom, can we do something together?

Sure. What do you want to do?

Make a book.

Okay. I happen to have some poster board from a class I teach. I assume he'll think the material will be perfect for the book's cover. So, when I fetch the material, what do I get?

Mom, that won’t work.

This is how every "project" starts off with Cole. He wants to do something together, but he doesn't agree with my artistic direction. So, I let him begin a project on his own and within minutes I hear...

You always do that. Start doing something else when we’re doing a project together.

I can't win. So, I sit down and watch him. Then I grab the camera. Note the boy’s internal strife. He’s not only critical of me, but he’s tearing himself apart! By the looks of his room, you’d hardly think he’s a perfectionist, but I’m seeing a few tendencies.

Lord, help anyone who will be assigned to work with the purist. And Lord help the purist keep his friends along the way.