Embracing Imperfection
My sister sent this to me and it is just too good to not share:
Wouldn’t it be good if we all felt like this DAD???
When I was a little boy, my mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. And I remember one night in particular when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at work. On that evening so long ago, my mom walked into the dining room and placed a plate of eggs, sausage, and extremely burned toast in front of my dad.
I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed! Yet all my dad did was reach for his toast, smile at my mom, and ask me how my day was at school.
I don’t remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that toast and eat every bite! When I got up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my mom apologize to my dad for burning the toast. And I’ll never forget what he said. ‘Baby, I love burned toast.’
Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night, and I asked him if he really liked his toast burned. He wrapped me in his arms and said, ‘Little Buddy, your Momma put in a hard day at work today and she’s real tired. And besides-a little burnt toast never hurt anyone! You know, life is full of imperfect things…and imperfect people. I personally am not the best at some things either.’
What I’ve learned over the years is that learning to accept each other’s faults – and choosing to celebrate each other’s differences – is one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship. We could extend this to any relationship in fact – as understanding is the base of any relationship, be it a husband-wife or parent-child or friendship!!"
Don’t put the key to your happiness in someone else’s pocket – but into your own. No one else can MAKE you happy, your happiness is a choice you make.
Now, I didn’t share that because I am even remotely like that dad. In fact, the picture above is an actual picture of me from when my toast was burned! However, I’ve known some people like that … and I’ll share one with you tomorrow morning. He was one of my great uncles – and great in more ways than one!
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Tags: Imperfection, People, Tolerance
Among the other things that made me go off on my own at an age when in India boys continue staying with their parents to study, was the constant criticism of food on the table by my father. I have never known him to be appreciative of food cooked in his own home. No body could make anything that will completely satisfy him. On the other hand, he will be full of praise for food served to him by others in their homes. No sooner he stepped out, his criticism would start about how horrid the stuff was.
I guess that I became the exact opposite due to this resentment.
For me, food is something I eat to live. I love to eat and except when something goes horribly wrong, as long as it is edible, reasonably tasty, I can eat anything. I can add salt or pepper or mustard or pickle or something like that to make it a little more interesting.
As you know, my father came to live with us last December and he started off with his usual stuff. I put up with it for a while because Urmeela would restrain me from blowing up. After her passing away, I sat with him one day and told him how horrible his behaviour was and how insulting it is for the person who had put in so much effort into preparing the food so that he could eat a meal to keep his body and soul together. After that session, there has been no such criticism at all.
Perhaps he is too old now, or too dependent on me to have taken it without blowing a gasket. I do not know. I however keep wondering whether this should have been done many years ago. My mother and step mother would have certainly enjoyed better atmosphere.
I lived with the man in the story. No matter what I set in front of Jack he cleared his plate and said “That was lovely!”
Such a change from my father, who like Ramana’s dad, criticized everything on his plate. Even as a very young child I cooked for the eight of us with large saucepans that I was unable to lift when full and hot, He would eat his fill and then tell me it was not as good as my mother would make. I took it for years then one night as I was setting the dinner plate in front of him, I stopped mid air and told him I had done my best and if it was not good enough, that he could do his own cooking from then on. The man didn’t know how to boil a kettle so he remained quiet after that.
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Ramana, my comment at the bottom is a little misleading. Actually, I am referring to my idiotic flash temper over stupid, petty annoyances. If I burned the toast, it would make me mad – and it would be for the silly reason that something went wrong that I was doing, not because I would be upset over burnt toast. If someone else served it to me, I would actually respond much more like the good Dad in the story, to be honest. I also am very adaptable to all kinds of foods and am very appreciative of whatever is served.
We are such inconsistent, irrational creatures at some points of our existence. It may have to do with a foul ball from another aspect of our lives at some points, those points that we cannot find solutions to or that other people continually resist our efforts. Then, we transfer those emotions to things we CAN have an effect on, even when those these things don’t amount to a hill of beans. Then, later, when we have taken care of the important things one way or another, the petty things hang around as habits. Another family member can remind you that the burnt toast is not really such a big thing!
Jack sounds like he was a truly lovely man from what you have said. It is interesting that you and Ramana have gone through similar experiences in some ways with your fathers. Life is not always peaches and cream – and some people need to be reminded to enjoy it when they get peaches and cream.
My wife and I have a person in our lives right now that needs this reminder. And … it is a big deal in this case.
Conrad, my father was a tall dark and handsome man. Everyone outside our house thought he was wonderful, pity he didn’t show some of that charm to his wife and daughters. When I stood up to him, he said I had a chip on my shoulder.
It was rather a shock to my system when I met Jack. I cried for the first full year of our marriage, I couldn’t believe that such happiness was really mine.
Grannymar´s last blog ..Vanity
I was always saying to my daughter “You’re perfect!” Her room was neat as a pin, never anything but A’s in school. When there was work to be done, the other 3 escaped & she did the work.
She blamed me for her failure at Stanford. She dropped classes, she wasn’t going to get an A in. (Everyone at Stanford doesn’t get an A even tho’ they went there with an A average.)
My daughter didn’t keep her room neat as a pin, but she was very much the perfectionist in other areas like your daughter. She also only got straight A’s.
Then she got her first B her Junior year of high school. She screwed up one test in Advanced Calculus and missed an A for the semester by one percentage point. Believe it or not, her teacher was devastated, LOL. But, we were delighted and finally had the excuse to throw the “B” party that we had always promised her. When she got her first B, we were going to throw and party – and did!
She is very much aimed at achievement and has gotten all A’s at college so far – with the exception of an accounting class she took online this summer. She got a C! We all laughed our butts off, her included, because she would have had to retake a class she absolutely hated all over again if she had gotten a C-. But … she didn’t. She is developing a more healthy attitude toward achievement in general in life as she goes along and I am happy for that.
Moral of your story & mine—Never tell a kid “you’re perfect”.
Agreed! Perfection isn’t the goal of being human.
I never did know a kid (or husband, wife, etc.) that was perfect….but, in the 61 years that Joe and I have been married he has only complained one time about what I put in front of him to eat. He looked at what was supposed to be gravy on his potatoes. it looked more like dumplings than gravy, and asked me what is this? I picked up his plate and dumped it (plate and all) in the sink and told him that he knew what it was supposed to be and if he wanted anything to eat he’d have to fix it. He looked stunned and I never ever heard anything about food again……not to say that we haven’t given each other what for for other things (people that live
together and say they never argue either don’t care enough about each other to argue or they are lying). My mother always thought he was a joy to cook for because he always made sure that she was thanked and complimented on the meal before he left the table. She thought his mother taught him that, lol. My father never said anything one way or the other so it was hard to tell what he thought (except at Viki’s and he always praised her to high heaven for anything she did….she was more his little girl than I was, I think). His grand children were the loves of his life and I was glad.
Storms are moving in so I’ll close this thing down.
Corky
So … he complimented Viki on her cooking – and worried about me because I liked to go out and look at the moon! Go figure, LOL.
I think that is the first time I’ve heard the story about you dumping Dad’s plate!
Of course, at my age, I think a lot of things are the first time I’ve heard them …
Pearls of wisdom to say the least. By the way, I took the first step in identifying a potential “Noy” for myself
Just thought you should know.
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Good for you, Ashok! Keep me posted, LOL.
I am becoming like a crazy uncle for you.
@Conrad: Its good to have a crazy uncle
Plus the consortium is like a family now 
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Sorry you learned the hard way, BHB. Appreciation, high standards–but NOT the perfect line. They set themselves higher standards than we ever would (because teens are idealistic and not tempered by reality) and then blame themselves and us when they can’t live up to them because they aren’t perfect but human!
Truly, needing to be perfect can be as much an impediment to learning as not having a need to achieve. One boy I work with in particular, with fairly severe dyslexia, has so much trouble with writing because it is never perfect, the way he wants it. I have just been reading Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, and have bookmarked the following passage which I am going to take in and read to his class.
“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a s–y first draft (this is a desirable thing, which she just spent the previous chapter discussion). i think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won’t have to die. The truth is you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren’t even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a whole lot more fun while they’re doing it.
Besides, perfectionism will ruin your writing, blocking inventiveness and playfulness and life force (these are words you are allowed to use in California). Perfectionism means that you try desperately not to leave so much mess to clean up. But clutter and mess show us that life is being lived. Clutter is wonderfully fertile ground–you can still discover new treasures under all those piles, clean things up, edit things out, fix things, get a grip. Tidiness suggests that something is as good as it’s going to get. Tidiness makes me think of held breath, of suspended animation, while writing needs to breathe and move.”
I am so happy–I am clearly very fertile ground!!
Sorry, I inadvertently left out the author above. Anne Lamott.
Ashok, the consortium is taking on a bit of that quality! I’ll be interested in what pops up from everyone in the next hour for our Friday offering.
Rhonda, that’s a marvelous entry on perfectionism!!