It Is What It Is

Here is the scene….

The ideal:

Meditative music plays against peaceful nature scenes on the tv. The sun rises behind a bay window full of thriving houseplants. With matching yoga mats outstretched in the living room, a mother and her son are each in a downward dog pose. The son joins in on the fun poses, and peacefully entertains himself as mom finishes the flow. Serenity and peace abounds.

The reality: 

An angsty toddler bounces up and down on my belly as I’m trying to do a bridge pose. The cat yowls at the front door. The oatmeal is burning. The plants are dying and lord help us all if we can hear the peaceful music over the regular racket of the household. 

It is what it is. 

That was one of the first and most powerful lessons I learned as a mother. Yes, there are times when I absolutely cannot accomplish even the bare minimum of what I set out to do. But more often than not, I do. I may miss the mark of perfect, but I usually land somewhere in the realm of good enough.

As a reformed perfectionist I really struggled with this. It was hard for me to do anything if I didn’t think I could do it as well. I used the backdrop of my own history (pre-kiddos) to set the standards, which is obviously totally and absolutely unrealistic. The morning yoga routine is just a small example. I did this with food, both in cooking and nutrition, and exercise, and cleanliness, and mental stimulation, and outside time, and crafts, and work, and relationships, and you name it. 

But when I replaced expectations with acceptance I found peace. 

It is what it is. This moment is exactly what it is. Maybe it is unpleasant. Maybe elements of it are less-than-ideal. Maybe it’s perfect exactly as it is. When we cling to imagined ideas of what something should look like, we miss the beauty of what it is. 

Not only that, but we miss opportunities to grow, learn and adapt. As a single mama there is so much I wish I could do that I just can’t. At least, not without making sacrifices in something else. 

I really love my imperfect yoga mornings, bouncing toddler and all. Because you know what? Sometimes it actually is perfect. Sometimes I look over and my little guy is mirroring me, with a big ol’ grin lighting up his face. And I know there is no way I would have gotten that perfect moment without a little letting go and gracious acceptance of some other, not-so-perfect moments along the way.