So we strive for perfection in the areas in which we can control, and that isn't necessarily what provides contentment and joy for ourselves, and more importantly, for our children.
~Sarah Jessica Parker
I woke up on Sunday, March 17th this year, and logged onto Facebook. It was a sea of green. The overwhelming majority of posts I were seeing had to do with St. Patrick's Day (which I had totally forgotten about. Oops.). St. Patty's Day clothes and decorations and parties and holiday-inspired foods for kids... links to Pinterest all over. I was pretty sure that I had failed miserably at being a mom-type person because I forgot that the holiday even existed. I literally said to my husband, "Are we bad parents because we didn't make green eggs and shamrock-shaped pancakes and hide a pot of gold for Hazel today?"
Valentine's Day is pretty much the same for me. So much hype. So much consumerism. I just don't get into it. And there is a real pressure that I feel from society today, that I should really be getting into it. Everyone is doing it! You are not a good mom or wife or sister or daughter or friend, if you don't do it all. If you don't buy cards for everyone and decorate everything and make your own holiday-themed treats. Blahhhh. Bah hum bug. Somewhere in my mind, I seem to associate the plethora of holidays and the celebrations of said holidays with Pinterest, as they seem to reinforce each other or feed off of each other or give each other reasons to exist.
I've been an avid Pinterest avoider, basically since it came on the scene. I've never really been good at crafty-type things, or decorating, or cute, stylish home improvements. I took an art therapy course in grad school. I felt like I was having a major crisis, because I realized that I can't draw, and I am basically horrible at creating visual art. "Why didn't they do a better job of teaching us to draw in elementary school!! I can't communicate/express anything through this medium!!" These were the thoughts running through my head. It was very frustrating and NON-therapeutic for me. I digress.
The only thing that I think I could get into with Pinterest are the recipes. I DO like food. I like making food. And I like getting access to new ideas on making food and good recipes for food-making/creating. I do not really care to make food that looks like cars, or trains, or animals, or people. I like food that tastes good, and looks like food.
Don't get me wrong - I have no problem with people out there who love Pinterest, or are inclined in this way. Or who love to make cute, fun, crafty-type things. I secretly admire people with these talents and skills, because I don't possess them at all. But there is SOMEthing about the whole Pinterest thing (or maybe what it represents) that really bugs me. And after thinking it through, I think it might have something to do with these two ideas:
1) Real life is not cute, or tidy, or neatly color coordinated. Life is so often messy, imperfect, and doesn't fit into pretty gold boxes. Life hangs out over the side of that pretty box, and paint gets smeared/smudged, and the icing on that delightful bunny cake melts. The cute bunny tail ends up looking more like poop. Whether we like it or not. (Pinterest fail boards? There are many). Something about Pinterest feels like pretending. It takes me back to the ideas/image-conscious culture of the 1950s, where women had to be all, do all, look amazing at all times, and never complain. ICKY. This may be a stretch, but something in my brain draws this link... from that era (which we have come so far from), to a whole different culture today in a technology-centric world, and a website where everything is perfect and amazing and shows you how to organize your life in neat color-coded boxes. Where you can get ideas to throw the BEST, most perfect birthday party for your child, with the cutest party favors and matching decor ideas and matching food. It's nice, but it's just not real life to me.
2) There is too much pressure to do too much, that doesn't really MEAN enough.
This idea is not directly linked to Pinterest itself, but is related. For me, I want to focus on being emotionally present and available for my children. I want to make sure that their basic needs of food, shelter, affection and love are provided for, to the best of my ability. I want to teach them and guide them, discipline them, and also learn how to let them go... as they grow away from me into independence, little by little every day. These things fill my mind and my heart to the brim. And most of the time, I am overwhelmed by these tasks. These joys and weights of being a parent. And I just don't think we need the expectation to do more - like throwing the perfect birthday party or holiday party or creating the best Easter basket - in order to feel like good parents. It's all just too much. And what does it really mean? Sometimes we can get caught up in/distracted by the hoopla... and it's possible that we neglect other things in the process. Things that I think are more important in the grand scheme of it all.
I'm all about reveling in the imperfect, in this phase of my life. About embracing my messes and flaws and learning to accept myself for who I am. About trying to release this unnecessary pressure to be more than I am. Some days, I strive to keep my head above water... to keep myself and my family well and functioning. Some days are hard. Some days are beautiful. Some days are relaxed. Some days are mind-numbingly tedious. And most days are a mixture of it all. But this is the life that I seek - to live in the nitty gritty, authentic moment. To take it all in... to feel truly alive and awakened to all that is real.
Not to seek perfection in anything, but to seek acceptance and love in everything.
All things considered, this is why Pinterest and I aren't friends. For now. I realize that I haven't really given her a chance. Maybe someday I will change my tune. But this is my take for the time being.
The fact of storytelling hints at fundamental human unease, hints at human imperfection. Where there is perfection, there is no story to tell. ~Ben Okri
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