ish

by Peter H. Reynolds

I recently read this story to my 4th graders. I realized how much I love "ish"

First, I have to tell you about this story.

A little boy named Ramon loves to draw. His brother, Leon, made fun of a vase he was drawing because it didn't look like the vase sitting at the table. Poor Ramon tried so hard to draw perfectly, and with each imperfection in a drawing, he crumpled his paper and tossed them to the side until he inevitably gave up.

He wanted to give up on his dreams, until his sister made him go into her bedroom and he finds the unexpected. (SPOILER ALERT) She has kept all of his crumpled drawings and posted them on her wall. He looks at his most recent and says it is not a vase. She says, "It's vase-ish." He begins to realize that all of his drawings are "ish" and he lives out his dreams being an artist-ish artist.

I then realized....

I'm wife-ish

I am certainly a wife, but I'm far from perfect! I complain to my hubby when I have to housework, and don't do it with pearls on. I don't make the bed and sometimes, I don't even make dinner. But I love my husband and I love having a home and a dog with him!

I'm daughter-ish:

I'm married. I have a house of my own. I have a grown up job. I want to have my own babies! But when it's my birthday, I still want my dad to call and sing me "Happy Almost Birthday" and I still need his hugs when I see him since they feel like home. I need to talk to my mom when I have a problem or when I don't, or even when I don't have something to say because last time we talked, I probably forgot to tell her what to most is insignificant, but to us is hilarious or sentimental, or somehow turns into a meaningful conversation. Yes, I'm 24, but I still need my mommy and daddy!

I'm mom-ish:
I take care of 27 kids each and everyday. I've ponied many ponytails, and tied many shirt ribbons, I've bandaided boo boos and hugged many sad and happy bodies. I've been called, "Mom...Oops, I called you mom!" lots of times and I take it as the biggest compliment. I spend 7 hours with someone else's kids each day. I've been told that "My mom forgot to wake up this morning so I made my own breakfast!" they say it with pride and I smile at them for feeling independent as a 9 year old but feel sad under my smile. (Then I feel extra thankful for my mom and dad for waking up each morning. Even until the day married my husband, my mom would sit in the living room with me as I ate my breakfast and drank my coffee before school and college classes. Dad did this sometimes too, but mom was there each morning with me!)

I'm happy to be "ish." Thank you Peter Reynolds for making "ish" feel so perfectly imperfect-ish.