escaping perfectionism: popcorn, pajamas at the park, and a parking lot pumpkin patch

you say "high"... i say "expectations." or standards, or maintenance (that's another post).i like things to be perfect, so much so, that i won't do them unless they can be perfect. if my house can't be spotless or i can't hang those pictures exactly how i want them, i won't. issues.i want every thing and every situation to be the best. to find the best restaurant in a new city. for each holiday to be as fun and filled with every potential it ever could have. that my husband and i would love each other perfectly every day. again, issues.i need for things to go as planned, so if i know that they can't, or i might fail, i don't want to do them. see the pattern?don't get me wrong, good things come from great expectations, drive, and a desire for things to be the best, but i could go ahead and stop writing right now and say that there is so much more joy, grace, and freedom in living in the imperfections.in so many ways i feel like becoming a mama was a much needed reset for me. it changed my perspectives and more importantly my abilities. things aren't going to be perfect. they aren't going to be planned. and they might not be the best. but they will be really, really rich.i love fall, it seems like most everyone on the internet does #itsfallyall #psl #stopshowingoffthefactyouhaveafall. but we don't have one here in new orleans, and this year it's been exceptionally bad. usually we go from hot to less hot, which is tolerable, but today the heat index was 90 degrees, the last week in october. moving on, it's difficult to embrace anything seasonal when your surroundings aren't cooperating, but a few weekends ago i finally felt like i was coming out of the newborn fog and we did a lot of fun stuff.we took both girls to a tulane football game at 8:00 pm and let MF get really salty popcorn, just because.she went to bed two hours late and no one turned into a pumpkin, more on pumpkins in a minute. the next morning the weather was beauty-full, and below 80 degrees (get the scarves!) so we went to the park. it wasn't until we got there that i realized that MF was in her pajamas, and dress shoes. perfection.later that afternoon on a whim we decided to go to a pumpkin patch. now, going to burt's pumpkin farm in north georgia is a tried and true futrell tradition. enjoying the glorious red/yellow/orange leaves, bundling up on the hay ride, enjoying cider, driving each other around in wheel barrows, i digress. there's nothing even close to that here but we do have a very cute pumpkin patch, in a lot beside a church, off a busy road.but you see this girl's face? she doesn't care, and to her this is as good as the north georgia mountains. the minute we got there she was running around gleefully, picking up pumpkins and jumping in the hay.i want to live my life like that. running around in a parking lot pumpkin patch enjoying it as much as the north georgia mountains. there will be times in life when things will be perfect, and the best, but i think what i'm learning is that there is just as much goodness in them when they aren't, sometimes more.there is beauty in the imperfections because they allow us to grow in grace, to enjoy things because we are with people we love, to relish in gratitude for what we do have.let me be clear though, that this doesn't come easy for me and i don't want to come across as trite. more often than not i over analyze the thing i did or didn't do and i'm more sad that they are over than glad that they happened (do i sound like a high school year book or what?!) i get so wrapped up in making sure that something is the best, that i miss out on the really good.so that is my charge to myself, and to anyone reading this, to not get so caught up in perfect that you miss the little joys of the imperfect. to take risks and do things even if you don't know if they will turn out well. to give yourself grace so you can show that grace to others, especially your little others.so break those bedtimes, do a happy dance in your pajamas at the park, roll around in the hay at that parking lot pumpkin patch, and you might, just might, find that perfect memory you were so concerned about making.