Face your imperfection fears

I'm proud to say that I currently have a few young fans that include me (and my brownies and rice krispie treats) in their birthday party plans. We don't go to McDonald's or Jumpy Gyms. It's just a bunch of crazy kids running and screaming through yards and parks. In fact, if it were anything else, I probably wouldn't be invited. Who needs someone to help them roast marshmallows and pin the tail on the donkey when they've got paint ball wars to win?

Last month I was flattered when a little friend asked me to paint faces at her party. Someone (albeit an 8-year old) considered me an artist. For a second or two I enjoyed the idea of my art being on public view until it rained or the cheap face paint faded. Envious onlookers would ask the kids who they were wearing and they'd yell back, "Ten!" But could it really be that easy?  

Maddalena and I decided on a trial run the day before the party. She showed up with make-up crayons, paintbrushes and her mom's phone filled with photos of fantastic faces. One of us thought I could paint a butterfly batting its wings when she blinked. The other remembered that I hadn't applied eye shadow since my senior prom.

It was time to explain the difference between copying and creating. I told Maddy I was willing to paint a piece of her artwork on her face, but internet images were out. As unenthused as she was with my old Crayolas and scrap paper, it wasn't long 'til we had a pink and purple unicorn that looked just like Porky the Pig.

The next day I told the guests they had two choices. One was the birthday girl's unicorn, as a way to honor her and proudly wear 'Maddy' for the day. And the other was a design of their own. Fortunately I'd packed the old Crayolas. By the end of the party we had hearts, lightning bolts, flowers, cats and a tiger that looked like a cat running around. They were far from professional, but I think Mary Poppins would have found them all practically perfect.  

I learned three things about perfectionism when Maddy turned 8.
1. My original refusal to the online designs was because I knew I couldn't reproduce them perfectly.
2. At the pre-party practice, Maddalena offered her face, arms, hands and legs giving me the chance to try, try again. Was it too many attempts at perfection that transformed her unicorn into a pig?
3. Perfectionism shouldn't impede performance. When you only have one chance (or cheek), take it. At first you might succeed because you can't try again.       

 

 

Hugs and Kisses, I think

The fact that the last time I drew a smiley face in a handwritten letter was in 8th grade makes me wonder why I currently use a colon, hyphen and paranthesis to depict one in a text. But, I embarrassingly admit that I'm guilty. :-)

As for stickers, the only ones I remember were on my Barbie camper. I probably grew up stickerless because my parents feared decoupaged furniture. Or perhaps, like tattoos, I feared their permanence. Which one to stick where, why and when was overwhelming for an indecisive girl like me. They were better left unstuck. Needless to say, my childhood lacked rainbows, unicorns and hearts.

Maybe this unadorned adolescence explains my emotional aversion to emojis. I'm inept. The few times I've tried, it seemed more difficult to find a sticker that spoke a thousand words than just using the words. But apparently that's just me. The real sticker-loving kids from the seventies (and 60s, 80s and 90s) are still trying to wordlessly express themselves without weighing the risks of misinterpretation.

I first realized I couldn't read emojis when I thanked a student for his applause. What's the blushing smiley with tiny hands under its chin doing if not applauding? I picture a little girl lightly clapping by her face and whispering, "Yay!" When I asked the sender why I'd deserved the cheer, he was perplexed. His interpretation of the faccina (small face) was 'easy affection.' Nothing like enhancing the enigma with some elementary English. (The truth is, I actually googled 'easy affection' in case it was trendy jargon the English teacher lacked.)  

I decided to make things easier by downloading a page of emoji meanings. I discovered that those tiny little hands represent a hug. Apparently virtual hugs are armless (and harmless). Just as harmless as the rosy-cheeked face blowing a heart that I've received from a number of people who would never consider blowing me a real kiss. As full of hugs and kisses as Italy is, my students sadly seldom cross that line. So I accept the emojis in texts with an LOL, imagining (and hoping for) the live delivery some day.
 
I'm currently working on a collection of photos that I call eMYjis. It includes faces on statues, cloud formations and everyday objects that evoke emotions in me. Unlike Google's emoji users, I'm afraid to 'face' the risk of misintrepation, so the photos won't be in use until I've also published an eMYjis dictionary. In the meantime, I'm happy to keep sending easy-to-read punctuation marks and receiving faint-hearted affection, with a smile.