You may have heard this before, but there are two ways to look at a project – “Do you want it perfect? Or do you want it finished?”

I really struggle with this because I really like things to look “perfect” (and, um, also be finished). I am so happy when I look through the house and see clean blankets crisply folded on the backs of couches, countertops clean and sparkling without any clutter or signs that things were cooked there, perfectly straight edges on picture frames, and neatly mitered corners on furniture. But sometimes the desire for things to be perfect cause “project paralysis” for me;  gardens grow in all directions regardless of the tidy trellises, earth shifts so paving stones and walkways move with it, and animals have to use the bathroom SOMEWHERE (including inside that freshly cleaned chicken coop or run-in shelter). When those little inconveniences happen I start to grumble and sweat and get more and more irritated because it isn’t as pretty as I had in my mind and wonder “what is the point?!” Or, sometimes the fear of not doing something just right makes me hesitant to even start (I’m looking at you chicken coop signage that I STILL haven’t painted). Sometimes I have to walk away for a moment to get some perspective, otherwise I will walk away completely and start on something else. Craving perfection can also cause misunderstandings and hurt feelings when you are working on something with someone else and make them feel like their hard work isn’t valued.

I am (often) like Monica Gellar from Friends and am my own worst critic. The first step in solving an issue is admitting you have one, right? 😉 I was the child who liked her toys lined up by size and fretted over running late anywhere. I am the adult who hangs her clothing by style/type and rushes around behind her husband picking things up and putting them away before he is finished with them because, “I just cleaned the house”. And I realize it is ANNOYING as all get out.

*The most paradoxical part of this quirk for me is that I love history and the rustic lifestyle and aesthetic of cottages, pioneer cabins, old homesteads, and pottager gardens – not places you think perfection lurks; just a sense of pride for the humble things you have worked hard for, what you have accomplished, and what is functional.*

Since the introduction of Pinterest, social media, and photo filters on iPhones, I have thoroughly enjoyed (ahem, wasted hours upon hours) looking through inspirational photos of perfect gardens, perfect kitchens, perfect bathrooms, and DIY posts where bloggers make it seem so easy to get those perfect rooms and outdoor spaces. I LOVE these outlets for inspiration, but sometimes my super neat and perfectionist side has to be reminded that these are fresh photos – staged for these situations and unlived in. Some may have been done by professionals, some may have been staged to hide the flaws, but NONE of them are as special as the ones you have completed yourself at your home, because those projects become a part of you – your heart and soul and sweat and tears have made it 1000 times more perfect.

We had a roofer out to quote a roof replacement earlier this year, shortly after we had our kitchen counters and backsplash replaced and Matt had painted all of our cabinets. I spent weeks browsing Pinterest and other websites to help decide on final materials, colors, and finishes to turn the kitchen into my own. The roofer asked if he could take a photo to show his wife – “She would love this! It looks just like something you would see on Pinterest!” My heart swelled up and I was so proud. I ADORE our kitchen, partly because I picked it all out, but also because of all of the weeks and months of hard work sanding and priming and painting and repainting that Matt did to pull it off. Even though we hired professionals for some of the work, we still put in a lot of sweat equity and ultimately came up with the design ourselves. The roofer had zero idea about the couple of nicked spots on the cabinets, or the spot where two of the doors stuck to another one as they dried, or the fact that it took multiple tries and lots of cursing to get the right sized sink for our weird cabinetry/plumbing. He had no clue that the sink was not the farmhouse style I had dreamed of, or that I had been so disappointed it wasn’t the “perfect” one I wanted. I realized it didn’t matter if my house was Pinterest-worthy, a stranger saw a pretty space and thought it was lovely, and it made me proud of our home and hard work.

I never want my photos or blog to make anyone feel like things are “perfect” or unattainable at Emerald Moon.

Reality is: when you paint your cabinets yourself they sometimes get nicked before you can install them. Grass grows right around and through that cardboard or landscape fabric you painstaking laid and you have to replace mulch EVERY YEAR. Gorilla glue truly means it will SWELL AS IT DRIES and it isn’t the end of the world if it seeps a bit. The hens don’t care if their nest boxes are perfectly symmetrical and the horses don’t notice if the temporary shelter’s roof is a bit bent from a storm.

And I’m positive that when I finally paint the sign for the chicken coop, and the lettering doesn’t look like something I bought at a store, that no one will notice except me (at which point I will refer myself to this post).

Don’t wait to get started or worry it won’t be perfect:  pick up that paintbrush, plant those flowers, or start sewing that project that you have been waiting on and be proud that you are able to take care of these things yourself. The sense of accomplishment of doing something yourself is a wonderful feeling and it’s so much better than perfection.