Perfection?

I. Am. NOT. Perfect.
Seriously.

I know you're all shocked and dismayed at the revelation, but there it is.
All out in the open.

Let us discuss my feelings.

I try to be a great wife, amazing mom, awesome friend, completely professional and perfectly balanced businesswoman, fashionable and unique woman, and sometimes I fail at those things. Not usually all at once, mind you, but I occasionally drop the ball. Let's be honest. We ALL DO IT. At least every now and then I find myself wondering how I'm supposed to accomplish half of what's on my plate, much less all of it. (If you were a therapist, at this point you'd be saying, "Tell me more about that...")
Don't misunderstand...I'm not talking about some serious discretion here.

I've never cheated on my husband, my children are well cared for, I'm there when I say I will be, I produce very good work despite chronic procrastination, and I dress well enough that no one has ever guessed how much I really weigh. (Seriously everyone is at least 50 lbs. off without fail, and I take that as a compliment to my fashion sense.)

BUT. Whenever I do drop the ball, it bounces so far away it takes me weeks to get back on track... Blegh. This has been one of those weeks. Professionally, I overbooked myself. Between having a wedding I'm working on coming up in just a few short weeks, and having committed myself to Relay for Life, I have had nowhere near enough time in each day to get everything finished that I needed to. Fail. Which has led to a rush in the sewing room, (as much as I love doing relay THANK GOD IT'S OVER.) and a serious amount of procrastination in my personal life. Which makes me feel like a total failure as a wife and mother. It stresses me to know that my kids are playing in a room with toys cluttered in the floor instead of neatly lined on shelves, and that my husband comes home to laundry cluttered on the kitchen table (I don't have a freaking laundry room, my washer and dryer are in my kitchen. It is hell.) and having take-out for dinner when I really should have made the time to at least wash the pots in the sink and thaw out some chicken so that he could cook if he wanted too. Le sigh. How in the hell did women manage to be so freaking perfect in the '50's and '60's??? I don't know. I wish I had the energy, gumption, what the hell ever it took to make it happen, that I could raise excellent children/ have a beautiful, organized, and clean house/ have dinner at least somewhat ready/ always look cute instead of run-down and exhausted/ and still make it to all of my commitments friendly/professional/or otherwise.
Is this even possible anymore?????
Help.