Super Moms

I think every mom probably struggles with body image. It just comes with the job.  Or perhaps the gender.  Or maybe even it just comes with being a normal human being.  It's been one of those years (errr...decades) for me. Good news is I lost around 15 pounds this year.  Then I lost about 5 more. Then I lost the same 5 pounds two more times and I think I'm on the brink of losing them again.  (That's 20 total, just to be clear.)  I should be very happy with all I've accomplished for myself this year, and I am. But are we ever truly satisfied? Nope. We moms are very hard on ourselves and our weaknesses, whether they be physical, emotional, mental etc.

But guess what? Our kids see the truth. The blunt, honest truth. They see a woman that they love. They see beauty. They see someone they hope they can resemble and emulate in a lot of ways one day.  I know it.  I know it because I have that kind of Mom.  I have that kind of mother-in-law, too. I hope they aren't embarrassed with me saying it, but my moms are beautiful, loving, selfless, good women who see their own weakness so painfully plain, and yet I hope I can become the caliber of women that they are.  I love them as-is.  They are absolutely amazing.

I know it, too, because I'm that kind of mom. I'm slowly realizing that my kids feel the same way about me that I feel about my moms.  Me?  Amazing?  Do my kids know me at all?!  Actually, yes they do.  They see me both in my make up, and in my crazy.

Today I had to get some errands done in a hurry. Since it's a snow day I bundled all three kids and got them in the car. We took off before I realized that I never did put on my makeup. Whatever. It's a snow day. And if I'm being perfectly honest, I didn't actually even get a shower this morning. That's why dry shampoo was invented, right?  Then CJ said from the backseat, "Mom! You have freckles? All over your face!  You have freckles, Mom!" She stared at my rear-view mirror and started pointing out every place on my face that she could see freckles. I didn't point out to her that many of them were actually zits.  She seemed very amused and I, of course, assumed she was making fun of my uneven complexion. Then she surprised me.

CJ: "When I grow up I want freckles here and here and on my nose and my cheeks....."

She loves them.  She loves me. She thinks I'm beautiful even if I think I still need to lose 15 (aka 20.)  She wants to be like me someday even though there are parts of my personality that I'm not proud of. It's easy, natural, obvious to me that I feel that about my moms. Amazing to me that my kids could feel that about me. And it's likely true that this phenomenon is shared by most moms.

A few weeks ago while we were sitting in church, I noticed that CJ kept looking over at me. After a while I realized she was drawing my portrait. She intently studied my face and body, erasing and trying again to get every bump and lump just right. I wasn't chewing a huge wad of gum at the time.  She made my mid-section bigger...twice. And it still is not accurate. I gotta thank her; she gave me awesome legs, arms and fashion. Is that a beauty queen sash? I felt quite vulnerable at first while she was drawing. Then it occurred to me that she wasn't judging. She was simply trying to draw what she saw, and drawing who she loves.

We are A-OK, moms. We may be imperfect in so many ways, but we are loved unconditionally. The way we love our own mothers.  The way we should love ourselves.