Wednesday, May 23, 2007

We Are Who We Are

We're having company this weekend and for one reason or another, having visitors in my home always makes me second guess myself right down to the silliest of things.
Should I use April Fresh Downy on their sheets and towels, or is that maybe too perfumey?

Will they think we're trans fatty asses for using margarine instead of butter? (Gasp! Depending upon your sensibilities, about the margarine...or the "A" word...or both.)

Will they want to leave after the first night of zero privacy on the hide-a-bed in the middle of the living room?

And when it comes to culinary matters, do they prefer whole and healthy? Even organic? 'Cause we had German Pancakes with Eggo Syrup and bacon for dinner last night and as near as I can tell, the combination was neither healthy nor organic.

Will they stand, mouths agape, in disgusted shock at the fact that Henry, (*ahem*) moves his bowels in ways that are very odoriferous, three, sometimes four times every day? 'Cause as long as we're being frank, I'm his own mother, and sometimes I do.

Will my Cobblestone Mill bread be good enough? It's whole wheat, but as I live and breathe, it's not GreatHarvestHeartyDenseAndDrool-Worthy by any stretch of anyone's imagination.

Will the toilet that is currently in pieces in the bathtub work when we put it back together tonight? Please bless that it will.

As you might imagine, I worked myself into a quite a sizable dither over all of these superfluous details until my always-wiser other half called to remind me that, "We are who we are. We don't need to apologize for ourselves. And we don't need to put on a show of perfection for company. We're hospitable and we're kind. That's all that ought to matter."

And, as is so often the case, he is right. I have to remind myself of the frivolousness of the flawless quest on an almost daily basis because I have a long-history of unrealistic perfectionism. It's something I'm trying to let go of, which involves a devout study of learning to "let things go."
So, I have cobwebs in most of my corners. The best I have to offer my guests is a hand-me-down hide-a-bed. We top our toast with margarine, the cheap kind, but we serve it with a heaping portion of organic Hospitality & Love. And I don't believe there ought to be an ounce of shame in those admissions, 'cause I'd be willing to bet that upon learning such things, most people let out a hearty sigh of relief and think, "Oh, good. They're just like us."

And if not, that's ok, because we're just like us...and my favorite human once told me, "that's all that ought to matter."

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