It's Not About the Plates
It's not about the chairs, the table, the setting, the catering.
It's about relationships.
It's about laughter.
My husband threw me a surprise party, and he didn't tell me anyone was coming over at all. As far as I knew, it was a typical Saturday. And I hadn't cleaned my bathroom, I'm not even sure if the toilet was flushed. There was typical family clutter hanging about, underwear on the clothesline, and a few dirty dishes in the sink.
And the thing is, it didn't matter. My friends came to see me, not to go all Your Royal Judginess on me. They came, they brought incredibly thoughtful gifts, they brought some of their children, and we had a lovely time. It didn't matter that we ate cake (and boy, what a cake!) off of our extensive collection of IKEA's finest plastic plates, and half the people had to use Alexander's feeding spoons. It didn't matter that our chairs and table didn't match, or that we didn't have perfect place settings, or candles and fairy lights, or flowers everywhere. What mattered, more than anything else, was that my beautiful friends came to celebrate the person whom they all have in common.
For years, I struggled with (and still do) a need to be perfect. To have matching plates, cups, cutlery. To have matching bath towels, folded just so, like in a shop. To have perfectly made beds, with matching linen. Everything just so. Maybe it was a subconscious need to prove to my ex-husband that I was good enough, that I could be domestic. Maybe it was a slightly less subconscious need to prove to my biological mother that I was good at something. It all seems a bit silly now.
For the record:
Almost nothing in my house matches. And it may or may not be in a 'just so' arrangement. More likely it's in a 'where in the heck did I put that thing' arrangement.
I am absent-minded. I am disorganised (despite many, many, many attempts to become otherwise!). And I am still someone worth celebrating. And thanks to a wonderful, loving, patient husband and wonderful, loving, extremely long-suffering friends, I am beginning to know that in a profound way.
Good Night,
Sarah
P.S. I'm still a bit of a nutter over making the bed. Just can't afford to indulge my inner Bed Bath & Beyond. :-)
It's about relationships.
It's about laughter.
My husband threw me a surprise party, and he didn't tell me anyone was coming over at all. As far as I knew, it was a typical Saturday. And I hadn't cleaned my bathroom, I'm not even sure if the toilet was flushed. There was typical family clutter hanging about, underwear on the clothesline, and a few dirty dishes in the sink.
And the thing is, it didn't matter. My friends came to see me, not to go all Your Royal Judginess on me. They came, they brought incredibly thoughtful gifts, they brought some of their children, and we had a lovely time. It didn't matter that we ate cake (and boy, what a cake!) off of our extensive collection of IKEA's finest plastic plates, and half the people had to use Alexander's feeding spoons. It didn't matter that our chairs and table didn't match, or that we didn't have perfect place settings, or candles and fairy lights, or flowers everywhere. What mattered, more than anything else, was that my beautiful friends came to celebrate the person whom they all have in common.
For years, I struggled with (and still do) a need to be perfect. To have matching plates, cups, cutlery. To have matching bath towels, folded just so, like in a shop. To have perfectly made beds, with matching linen. Everything just so. Maybe it was a subconscious need to prove to my ex-husband that I was good enough, that I could be domestic. Maybe it was a slightly less subconscious need to prove to my biological mother that I was good at something. It all seems a bit silly now.
For the record:
Almost nothing in my house matches. And it may or may not be in a 'just so' arrangement. More likely it's in a 'where in the heck did I put that thing' arrangement.
I am absent-minded. I am disorganised (despite many, many, many attempts to become otherwise!). And I am still someone worth celebrating. And thanks to a wonderful, loving, patient husband and wonderful, loving, extremely long-suffering friends, I am beginning to know that in a profound way.
Good Night,
Sarah
P.S. I'm still a bit of a nutter over making the bed. Just can't afford to indulge my inner Bed Bath & Beyond. :-)
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