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I'm giving up on perfect. I wrote last week about Layla Grace, and how her parent's struggle facing terminal cancer with a 2-year-old had challenged me to have a better attitude about the menial and trying tasks of motherhood.

This week God, and my children, put my new attitude to the test. Nothing worked like it was supposed to. Previously established routines and bedtimes seemed impossible to achieve. My husband and I spent night after night playing "Whack-a-Mole" with our three kids, as soon as we would get two of them down and settled for the night, the third would pop her little head up.

Emma, our 3-year-old, who has been potty trained for well over a year, woke up from her nap, sat in my lap, and peed in my pants. I tried to have a good attitude, I tried to thank God for the precious, yet wet, memory we were making- and failed.

I was disgruntled. I wanted to enjoy my children. I wanted to hold hands and play Ring-Around-the-Rosey or go to the park. I was trying to make memories with my children and they were not cooperating, at all. I didn't want to spend the week white-knuckling my way through motherhood.

But that's exactly what I did.

On Thursday night, I was at the end of my rope. I was attempting to cook dinner and watch my children play outside at the same time and finally had to turn the stove off to make sure no one broke an arm climbing the fig tree.

Then God sent an angel, disguised as a soccer mom, with an armful of food- gumbo, rice, salad, French bread and a chocolate pound cake to boot. My next-door neighbor, a working mother with four children of her own, had cooked me dinner.

I almost cried.

"Why did you do this?" I asked her.

"I've been meaning to do it since y'all moved in."

Then I asked the really important question, the one I was dying to know, "How did you do this?"

She laughed, but I was in awe.

"I'm serious! How do you do it all? Work, soccer, school, karate, dance classes, cooking and cleaning! How?" I insisted on knowing.

"I just do it the best I can."

With that pearl of wisdom, my angel flew off in her SUV to continue on her mommy errands.

But she had given me something to chew on, both figuratively and literally. Why was I trying to kill myself to get to the gym every day? To keep my home Southern Living spotless? Why did it matter to me so much that our routines stay the same? What difference did it really make in the long run if my 3 year old's tights matched her dress when she went to preschool?

I recently interviewed Canadian television personality and author of "Shut Up and Eat: Tales of Children, Chicken and Chardonnay," and mother of four, Kathy Buckworth about the struggles all parents face. When asked how she balances work and family, Kathy said, "I've never liked the words balance or juggling, even though that is exactly what it is. I prefer to say I work a blended day."

This makes more sense to me because most of my days, there is no balance. If motherhood was a tightrope, I'd either need a safety harness or I'd been spending most of my days squashed flat as a pancake on the floor.

My day is a blend and a blur. I do laundry while my baby sits on my foot and wipes snot on the leg of my pants. I write while one child naps and another watches Dora. I put out whichever flame burns the highest and brightest before turning my attention to the next big blaze. I'm trying to learn how to distinguish between a bonfire and a forest fire.

Last week I finally let go of perfect and surrendered to "good enough." Emma happily pulled on seven different shades of pink and put her signature, red Mary Jane's on the wrong feet. I pulled her hair up into a side ponytail as requested and drove my Punky Brewster wannabe to preschool.

Maybe next week I'll regret letting some of these little things slide. Maybe next week she'll want to wear her bathing suit to school just to see if she can. We'll deal with it, and it'll be OK. Because trying to look perfectly balanced all the time- it's exhausting and impossible.

I'm officially giving up on perfect, and pursuing happy, instead.

(Robin O'Bryant is a former Mount Pleasant resident and mother of three. Read her blog online at www.robinschicks.com or e-mail her, zebandrobin@hotmail.com.)