Perfectionists Need Not Apply

Tickle Maria

My “Tickle Maria” turns 17 today, and exactly 17 years and 6 months ago, I began my writing life, thanks to her, expressing myself in ways I’d never done before. I’d been given this incredible chance at parenting at age 39, after my body finally agreed to do the job. I’d also been given a chance to document the experience, and I began to admit all of the things I didn’t know, I didn’t know, and openly shared my "goofs and gambols" with others. It was exciting. It was terrifying. It was unimaginably gratifying.

Observing this tiny Tickle’s perspective through her true-blue eyes, her very first year on the planet, and watching her discover herself and the big, wide world around her, was an experience like no other for my (then) 40-year-old self, a woman who didn't think she was good enough to be a parent. Writing helped me to cope with the new position, a job I felt I was totally under qualified for.

But I loved to work and embraced the working world at 14. I had a plethora of jobs from 14 until 39 to support my “music career” (a job that didn't cover my rent or even the cost of some of the clothes I wore to the gig), but I earned my own keep and tried to make my mark on that big, wide world. Then motherhood catapulted me into a role that magnified a new reality and realization: no matter what you thought those qualifications were or weren’t for the gig, you will never be fully “qualified” nor will you ever stop learning on the job. If only its description read like this 25 years ago when I first contemplated applying for it:

PARENTHOOD

Now Available

Hours:

24 per day, every day (and twice on Sundays)

Pay:

Hugs + Kisses (when earned)

Benefits:

Lifetime

(COBRA may extend into the afterlife)

Applicant Must Have:

Self-awareness

Flexibility