The End of Perfect. Gingerbread style.


The end of perfect. Gingerbread style.


Now you may get the impression from the title of this blog that I am calling myself perfect..I am not. The whole premise of this blog post is about not striving for perfection. Aka- Letting go and just bloody living life! But that seemed like a long title so I went with the above.




This post idea came about when I rather bravely (No doubt a Hero/Mom of the year award coming my way soon perhaps?) made a gingerbread house with our 2 year old daughter. I say made, I of course mean assembled one out of the box from Lidl. Anyhoo- we made our gingerbread house and before we started construction, one side wall got half eaten. The icing/snow peaks were less ‘flurries of snow fall gently resting on the thatch roof’ and more ‘Momma had no icing bag so just slapped it on, lumps and all’. And the sweets that were meant to resemble stained glass windows on our delightful English Cottage, look more like two sets of cheeky boobies flashing on the front of the house.

After we had finished our creation, I placed it down and made a drink and began to clean up. As the little one ran off to watch Kinder Egg’s being opened (as you do), I happened to look up mid bleachathon and notice our little house. Little wonky house. And I couldn’t believe how good it looked! Yes it was wonky and there are no walls and Santa looks pissed as a fart as he clings onto the icing for dear life on the roof, but it still looks damn good! Not like the picture on the box or the Snapchat I saw of Khloe Kardashian’s rather EPIC gingerbread house that did resemble something that should be gracing the window display of Liberty. No.

But it did look amazing. And it made me smile. A lot.


And that’s when I realised I had let go a bit. I’d let go of the me who would look at the gingerbread house and who’s OCD would want straighter walls and who’s great love of Kirstie Allsopp would want the snow to be more perfect. I’d let go of wanting to be perfect, or let go of being the perfect we think we should be. And it made me think how liberating that was.


Now I not here to tell you that I have had a total thoughts overhaul in all aspects of my life, because that would be a lie. But I am here to tell you that this little wonky gingerbread house moment has made me realise that I am going to try to.

Not to mention ‘New Year’s Resolutions*’ yet (*whispers it) because Christmas is still to come (yay!), but in the back of my head I have a slow burning list of things I want to improve/try to do in the new year* (*sshhhh again). And striving to not aim for perfection is going on there.

I am no longer going to worry that my house is 100% perfect and in place when people come round. I don’t want to compare our toddler toy filled home to those who are mid 50s, now hild free and own Laura Ashley coffee tables which are adorned with glass ornaments at a low level.

I am not going to worry if each blog post is Oscar movie screen play worthy, or if the photos I take to accompany blog posts are lit to perfection and include a mess free background with no presence of Playdough filled carpets.

I am no longer going to worry that in saying no to some social invites makes me a less than perfect friend.

I am no longer going to put so much pressure on having perfect family moments, hallmark card inspired. As we all know the best memories are those in the little unplanned impromptu moments. Not found in perfectly planned days.


So yes, so long to perfect.


I want to enjoy our days and moments and not strive for something that is ultimately not achievable.


The little thought changes I have made already have made me feel so much more at peace and happy with certain things…. Like gingerbread houses.


Even wonky ones.





Lady Like Momma





Boobie windows and all…
Pissed up Santa perfection
More lumpy snow drift than snow flurries….
Delightful, yummy and colourful imperfect perfection. Just as I now like it.