Perceived Perfect

My childhood hometown is drying up. The downtown is no longer bustling with shops. The big department store on Maine Street is being converted into The First Baptist Church, the Dairy Queen was torn down and storage units were built, all the local clothiers have long since abandoned their store fronts. It’s all gone. Well, except Klip-N-Kurl, where I went to get a $35 spa pedicure. This beauty shop has been around for a long, long time. It’s moved from one spot to another, but always on Maine Street.

I was greeted by Sheila. She hollered at me to come on back. We conversed about who my folks were and then she asked how they were doing, because of course she knows them. She asked if I worked, how many children I have, where I live, etc. Then out of the blue she said, “Don’t tell me you homeschool too? Cuz that would just make you way too perfect.” Okay, so I had a moment of do I lie? I don’t know why she asked me. It was very strange. I chose to tell her that in fact I do homeschool my children, but there is nothing glamorous about it and many days I’d like to slit my wrists. I live in a big community of homeschoolers; my children have been to public school and private school, blah, blah, blah what else can I say to not make this woman think I’m better than she? Her very polite comment to me was, “Well, around here your life would be perceived as perfect.” Whoa.

So what’s the perfection? That I chose to educate the kids? That I work very part-time and still take care of the kids? I don’t get it. I know I have looked at women and thought her life is so easy, she doesn’t know what it’s like to have to do this or that. But, I think I’ve been around long enough to know that there isn’t always a sweet gift inside the beautifully wrapped package.

There is no perfection about me or my home. It truly is perceived. Oh, but my kids, they are perfect and so is my husband. Buhwa ha ha ha ha!