Perfectly imperfect

I recently spent one Saturday afternoon getting all crafty with our niece, Amber-Lee. We pulled out all my paint, paintbrushes, paper and little wooden trinkets, boxes and baskets, all longing for a splash of colour. I’ve been meaning to get back into it all, so I was quite excited to get all crafty with Amber-Lee.   

 
I chose a simple wooden basket to paint (pictured above, painted). Once I had chosen my colour, I began painting. And shortly after, I began to regret choosing to paint this particular basket. It was exceedingly difficult to get my paintbrush into all the little grooves and gaps. And I really wanted the entire basket painted. I didn’t want to leave any parts unpainted – no light brown anywhere. Just pretty blue. I got even more frustrated when I started painting close to the top, where the wire frame is. How on earth was I gonna keep that free of paint? Tape wouldn’t work – too small. So, what? 

I almost decided to give up. Almost. After spending a few minutes staring at this impossible basket to paint, I was reminded of some things. I was reminded that I was only human. Not perfect at all. So why was I trying to paint my basket perfectly? Does it even need to be painted perfectly? It’s my basket. I’m keeping it for me. As long as I’m happy with it, that’s all that matters. Once I started thinking about this, my frustration left me. That’s when I decided to add another colour, and I didn’t worry about keeping the metal frame paint-free. While I was painting more freely, I started thinking more about perfection. I started looking at my life. Was I the perfect wife? No! Was I the perfect mother? No! Was I the perfect daughter/sister/friend? No! But I realized that it’s ok not to be perfect. I’m only human. There are days when I snap at my husband and son unnecessarily. Sometimes, I don’t feel like being around other people. Some days, I just want to be in my little bubble. My life is not perfect. I have my struggles. Things frustrate me. Finances are tight. But that’s ok. 

I’ve realized my life is perfect in its imperfections. There are some things that are perfect in my eyes – I just need to look at my sons sweet little face to see my perfection. Do we have our dream car; are we living in our dream home? Nope. But if our little car, that has seen better days, could talk, it would tell you of many adventures. It would tell you all about our trip from Cape Town to Jeffrey’s Bay, and the week we spent making our way back home, for our honeymoon. It would tell you about being packed too the brim and driving us to Durban, from Cape Town, so we could start our new life. Never mind all the adventures that were packed into those 2 days of traveling! Perfectly imperfect. 

Our little home is small and cosy. And while we are quickly outgrowing it, what with a toddler running around, this home will always be special. This will always be the home we brought Noah home too for the first time, all those months ago. We’ve managed to fit a lot more furniture in our home than we thought possible. We’ve moved things around and rearranged and gotten rid of many things. Mainly to make space for all things baby related. And while there are times when a second bedroom would come in handy, this little home is ours, and it is perfect for us for now. 

Every time I look at my little painted basket, I’m reminded that while there are many imperfections in life, there are moments and memories and people, who make my imperfect life feel perfect, even just for a moment. 

Xoxo
*All photos are my own*