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I know a French Trumpet isn’t a real thing. It’s a French Horn. However my 11 year old is learning the trumpet. It’s a requirement in our school division that students take Band in Grade 6 and he has chosen to master the trumpet.

This means that last night while I was helping our 8 year old study for his spelling test, his French spelling test (they are both in French Immersion. Oui.) I also had the soothing sounds of the trumpet to assist. Picture me yelling in poor French at my 8 year old while the same three notes blast out of a trumpet less than 20 feet away.

Relaxation.

Tranquility.

I certainly did not raise my voice to say: “YOU NEED TO STOP.”

I got the mispronounced French out of the way and went back into the other room to ensure I had not quashed my child’s musical spirit. I told him I just needed him to stop so his brother could hear me. He said, “Oh, okay” and proudly resumed his concert.

He really likes it.

I don’t know that either of my older two children practiced as diligently as he has thus far. He is a tiny Type A’er himself though so it may also just be that…but he honestly seems to like it.

I do too.

Yes. That’s right, I love it! (I am really working on this positive shit…)

Anyone else feeling the September Strain? Some of us longed for routine to come back into our lives after summer. We craved it and welcomed it and it’s here. What I forgot is how quickly that routine takes on a life of it’s own. The photo you see above is what my dining room table looked like last night. It looks the same right now except now today’s mail there too.

That table? Is my brain.

My hair is dirty. I wash it every other day. I questioned toward the end of my shower yesterday morning if I had really washed it or not but was sure I remembered shampooing. So then of course I did not wash it this morning because I only wash it every other day. I got home from work today and had a good look in the mirror and was a little startled. My ‘do resembles that of the Fonz. With only marginally less grease.

Each week is blowing by faster than the next and I can’t say I’m unhappy, just a little overwhelmed. I’m pounding out this post that was writing itself in my head last night right now as I wait for supper to be ready because then it’s dinner, watch a show with the kids (Amazing Race Canada – DO NOT TELL ME WHO WINS WE ARE A WEEK BEHIND), then off to visit Ryan’s wonderful auntie, then to a Cize class (where I impersonate J-Lo with my sweet sweet moves. Well, J-Lo after a mild stroke), then home for a team call that I’m really looking forward to, and then? I might fit in a little 10 minute convo with my hubby and probably call it a night. Oh wait though, lunches will need to be made…and well….it will get done and what doesn’t get done will not be the end of the world.

Remember that ladies – whether your table looks like mine, whether your leg hair is coming in nicely for fall, whether your desk is a mess, whether your current laundry system consists of sniff and “good enough”, it’s okay! We are all doing the best we can. The more we push ourselves to perfection the farther away it gets.

Perfection is: happy healthy kids, time spent with a good friend, time spent with your spouse, time spent in the tub with a book, or time spent hiding from your kids eating chocolate. Perfection is whatever YOU think it is, not what Martha Stewart, the media, or that mom from the school you hide from says it is.

Tonight, for me, perfection will be supper with my family, a little me time at Cize where I can laugh at myself and get my sweat on, and time spent with a team that supports one another tremendously. The rest of it? Icing on the cake and maybe even a little shampoo for the old hair.

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