Coincidentally enough, as I have been thinking about perfectionism and paralysis this week, the very same topic has been all over the blogosphere (well, the little part of it that I inhabit, anyway). Clearly, I've been neglecting my blog reader, so I'm a bit late with this, but thought it was worth the post anyway. Thanks to Amy for linking me to this: Perfect Protest.
I love that you can see Steven's reflection in the window.
I usually find self-help books pretty hokey, but I'm looking forward to reading Brown's book, The Gifts of Imperfection.
I'm sitting here this evening on a Saturday night, surrounded by puzzle pieces and random toys, dishes in the sink that need washing, thirty different craft projects and ideas in my little brain that I'm itching to work on, and at least a million and one student essays that need graded. And yet, I'm happy amongst the chaos. I'm lying on the couch under a quilt my grammy made for me, snuggled up with Steven as he watches Spiderman. I am doing enough. I am enough. Nothing is perfect, but all is right with the world.