Today (a Saturday) my husband had a bunch of stuff to catch up on, so I took the kids and went to the grocery store and then to Target to spend their allowance. They were terrible at the grocery store and to make a long story short, I ended up telling them in the car on the way home that they could play with the Legos they bought when they felt that they understood why I was upset with their behavior and when they felt they had earned the right. My son, of course, immediately said he understood and was happy to play when we got home. My daughter… she’s a different story. She wears her heart and conscience on her sleeve. She hemmed and hawwed and absolutely hated that I put this decision on her shoulders. We had tears. A lot of tears.

When we got home, they came in and she reluctantly followed big brother and they played with their Legos. About 30 minutes later, I was laying down reading when I hear her walk in and sniffle over to me, “Momma, I’m really sorry we were so terrible in the grocery store.”

There’s that ah-ha moment again… she’s more like me than I want to admit. The poor kid had probably been beating herself up the whole time she was playing because she didn’t feel right about it. I gave her a hug and told her it was okay and we’d do better next time.

But it also reminded me that I’m really hard on myself too. I always have been. My parents never had to put me on restriction for getting a bad grade. If I didn’t make at least a B on every test, I’d lock myself in my room and study the material and basically would put myself on restriction until the next test. I think it secretly drove my mother crazy.

Not much has changed, except now that I’m a business owner, I really have a problem when I make a mistake. Oh, my team makes mistakes and it’s no big deal, they are, after all, only human. But I am not allowed to make mistakes – I am, in my own mind, supposed to be perfect at all times. I goofed up this weekend (actually woke up at 2am panicked because I realized I forgot to file a payroll form for a client and we’d missed the deadline). I’ve already filed the form and mailed it for the client. I’ve emailed the client letting them know and telling them that whatever fee they incur, I will pay. I didn’t charge them for the time to do it. I will probably never forget to file that form again because I’ve mentally berated myself for being so silly – first for forgetting the form – later for beating myself up about it. *laugh*

But you know… the thing is that you have to make it right. No matter if you are seven or uh… twenty-nine. The point is that you own the mistake and you fix it. It really is that simple.

For my part, I will attempt to let go of that ‘D’ I made in Chemistry in 11th grade one day…

Perhaps.