My kids, however, have taught me that perfection truly is out of our reach.
Don't get me wrong, I adore my children. They make me laugh and amaze me every day.
But they are FAR from perfect.
(This is not to say that they are not the perfect match for us. God certainly knew what he was doing when he designed their little DNA structures. I think that this is karma for all of Kat's blasphemous ridicule of organized religion, but that is neither here nor there right now.)
Ella.
She is big blue eyes and dimples and shiny thick hair. She is tall and leggy with a round belly and big feet. She is brilliant mathematical logic and biting sarcasm and obsessed with money.
She is also completely unaware of her spatial surroundings (as well as the volume of her voice). She is drastically moody, swinging from loving sweetness to overflowing rage in seconds. If you ask her to pick up the toy by her left foot, she can't find it. If you tell her to do something in a new way, she shuts down and refuses to do it at all. She is stubborn to the nth degree. She couldn't stay on her bottom during dinner or schoolwork if her life depended on it.
But she is mine, and I love her.
Today, at gymnastics, I was reminded again that she is not perfect.
For starters, we decided to add another class to swimming, and thought we'd try out gymnastics this year as a way to introduce Ella to coordination. (Ella, meet Coordination. Coordination, this is Ella. Good Luck! No wait, please come back!) There are 25 kids in the class, and 2-3 teachers. It is a disaster, and I'm not sure why we're paying $63.00 a month...no, wait, I know exactly why. Because she LOVES it.
Ella is by far the most uncoordinated kid we know. (And between the two of us, we know a LOT of kids.) We thought it would be a great idea to take this child, who is also tall and bulky and solid and kind of wimpy to boot, and throw her into gymnastics with 24 other petite, coordinated children. I'd like to say it was a mistake, but what else could we do???
The teachers do their best to ignore our daughter, unless she's causing a logjam in the rotation because she physically cannot get herself onto an apparatus. When the kids are stretching, Ella lounges and makes half-hearted attempts to touch her toes. When being escorted across the balance beam, she hangs on for dear life and makes herself as stiff as a board.
Now, I have spent several years teaching swimming to all ages. I know how hard it is to teach those kids who are "bigger" and "scared." Small, scared kids? No biggie. Big, brave kids? Fine, easy as pie. Big, scared, uncoordinated, independent kids? The hardest kids in the world to teach a skill to, be it gymnastics or swimming or dance or karate or anything else.
I know how the teachers feel about kids like Ella. Annoyed, frustrated, tempted to pass them by. I get it. And yet, my inner psycho-helicopter-mom persona wants to tell them to give her a break, it's not her fault that she's tall and clumsy and stubborn!
Today, because of the holiday, there were only twelve kids in class. It was great--Ella got some attention and actually improved!
However (and this is my imperfection, I know....NOT hers!) every time I watch her at gymnastics or swimming, I cringe. I want to shake her and tell her to pay attention and TRY, Goddamnit!
Then, I have to remind myself that I've had 33 years of practice...and I still can't find the remote on the cushion next to me, and I am apt to trip on my own feet occasionally if I'm not paying attention.
But all I want is for her life to be easier, and better than mine was. Is that too much to ask???
