I’ve taken a lot of those personality inventories over the course of my professional life, and they all say the same thing: “You like to start things. You are energetic and like being social. You have control issues. You are lame with details.”

But being lame with details isn’t really an option when you are the mom of two young children, have a busy job at a small nonprofit where there just aren’t other employees around to pick up any slack, and tend to like to over-commit to social and volunteer opportunities.

The devil, it turns out, is in every bit of my day, nagging me with the details. No one is going to buy toilet paper if I don’t, so I better not forget to make a decent grocery list. No one is going to pay the bills at work except me, so I better keep up with my spreadsheets and databases, much as I detest that sort of thing.

Still, perfectionism is not in my makeup, and I’d prefer not to spend time in a mental institution, so some things just have to go — things like perfectly sorted and arranged drawers full of matched-up clothing for my children, and sinks that shine and floors that you could eat off of at any given moment. Things like blow-drying my hair.

I’d rather sit on the patio with my husband or a friend for an hour after the kids go to bed than don rubber gloves and scrub toilets. That is how I stay out of the Betty Ford clinic. (Though, to be honest, sometimes a nice little break at what we lovingly refer to as the “day spa at the Betty” does sound kind of nice.)

A lot of my adult life has been spent beating myself up about my lack of perfection in certain (ahem, housekeeping) areas. I spent a lot of time worrying about what people might think if they see the stain on the carpet or the spots on the bathroom mirror, but strangely, no matter what I tried, I never managed to keep a sparkling house.

I don’t have great skills in creating Pinterest-y crafts for my children, and I don’t have any interest in knitting or sewing. It’s no way to live, comparing myself to others and worrying about things that simply are not in my wheelhouse.

So I’ve had to learn that perfect housekeeping and perfect hair are less important than healthy relationships, happy kids, and sane parenting. I’ve learned that by spending quality time with my friends, I develop networks of people who scratch my back as much as I scratch theirs.

I’ve learned, in a word, to prioritize. I work hard, I play hard, and I simply walk past the details that don’t matter. I walk past a pair of shorts and the dirty socks my 4-year-old left on the ground and the crackers the baby threw off her high chair. I walk right past them to the deck, wine in hand, and shake my finger at the Detail Devil. Not today, Sir. Not today.

— Megan Stuke is a wife and a mother of Johnny (4) and Lily (1). By day she works to help children and families at Ballard Community Services, and by night she writes, cooks, cleans (very little) and tries her best to be part of everything Lawrence has to offer.