I wasn’t perfect as a child, and I’m nowhere close to it as an adult. Still, trying to be perfect at something, anything, has been a lifelong passion of mine. One which, sadly, has always alluded my grasp.

Trying to be perfect is not a challenge for me, but rather, it’s a pursuit I can’t seem to resist – one that often has been debilitating. For that first “being perfect” gauntlet thrown down at my feet, we must travel back to the place my three brothers, The Sister and I spent our childhood during those seven magical years a long, long time ago: that old familiar street not so far away called Flamingo…and a birthday party for seven-year-old twin boys that had just concluded.

Jimbo was the clown my parents hired for our birthday party when Twin Brother Mark and I turned seven. The party was held at that ice cream place that boasted it had 31 flavors. Don’t really know if it did or didn’t. All I cared about was vanilla, chocolate, and of course, Jimbo the clown and his balloons.

Watching in amazement as Jimbo twisted balloons into dogs, birds, cats, and even a shield and sword, all I could think about was how cool it would be to do what he was doing. After weeks of begging Mom to buy an instruction book on how to make all the animals and a huge pack of balloons, she finally did. My pursuit of being the best balloon twisting boy on all of Flamingo began that day. After months of trying, I could twist out animals but knew I would never be as good as Jimbo no matter how hard I tried. Eventually I gave up my balloon perfectionist pursuit.

I was good at making balloon animals – not perfect, but that’s ok.

While attending Briarwood High School, home of the Mighty Buccaneers, Big Brother James became a three-time state wrestling champion. He had three perfect varsity seasons, and I wanted to do the same. After years of summer wrestling camps and endless stair running for endurance, I failed way short of my goal. In the end I was only able to win state once when I was a senior – again missing out on perfection.

I was a good wrestler – not perfect, but that’s ok.

As an adult, I was a fire fighter. For over twenty-seven years, I chased the dream of becoming an officer. Arriving early, leaving late, constantly taking classes to better myself, I tried to be that perfect candidate. Alas, promotion to an officer eluded me. I guess others thought I wasn’t officer material. But I never was in an accident while driving the fire truck, helped rescue countless people, brought three babies into this world, helped hundreds of people with medical emergencies, and extinguished too many fires to count.

I was a good fire fighter – not perfect, but that’s ok.

With the school year nearing an end, I look back over my first year as a kindergarten paraprofessional. I once again find myself chasing the illusion of perfection. With a lifetime of experience under my belt, I started off knowing that this time would be different. My goal was to be perfect and never make a mistake. I wasn’t, and I did. Once again, I’ve come up short. I haven’t been perfect in everything that I’ve done.

I’m a good paraprofessional – not perfect, but that’s ok.

Last Friday I once again threw up my hands in frustration, I felt that some of my drawings could be better. They weren’t perfect. But as I gave final approval to my 5^th grade coloring book about plant and animal cells, I finally realized something. If you’re waiting around until things are perfect…well, you’ll be waiting a long, long time, and chances are, you’ll never get anything done. Was the coloring cell book perfect? Nope.

It is good, really good – not perfect, but that’s ok.

Perhaps, just perhaps, being perfectly imperfect is just fine!