The Image of a Mother

I was reading a facebook post this evening in which a friend of mine, also a mother, said something about physical appearance and the difference in what other people see and what she sees. It really validated my own feelings and made me feel better about myself and my own "physical appearance". In her post, she mentioned not taking the time to curl her hair or do her makeup because the time she spent doing that, she could be spening with her daughter instead. FINALLY, someone else with my train of thought.

I asked my husband the other day, "Does it bother you that I wear sweats all the time? Am I a slob because I don't do my hair and wear makeup?". Bless my husband's heart, he said, "What? No. It's just clothes. I want you to be comfortable". This was music to my ears because to me, wearing jeans is "dressing up" nowadays. I spend all day playing with my son. Sweats allows greater range of motion when I'm rolling around on the floor or chasing him around the house. Sneakers seem like a smarter choice when participating in the "chase me around the store" marathon. 

Makeup and pretty hair also seems like a waste of time to me. First of all, I'm in my house with my son. I'm not wasting makeup or time doing my hair that nobody's going to see. Secondly, I'm pretty sure my son doesn't give a rip what color my lips are or if my lashes are coated. My husband says I'm beautiful without all of that, so why bother?

I guess what I mean to say is, I'm a mother down to my soul. I prefer sweatpants with a little dirt on them from rolling around with my boy. I actually don't mind my shirt to have a little bit of snot on it from my son's runny nose or stained from the time he sneezed with a mouth full of juice. I prefer the look of play time, snuggle time, and wrinkles from nap time to heels, skirts and a fancy face. When my time comes, I don't want my family to remember my choice of clothes or the perfume I wore. I want them to remember the times I made mud pies and finger painted with pudding on the kitchen floor. In the end it's about the time we spend together. Not the way we looked doing it.

Crafting

I like to think I'm crafty. I see a picture of a DIY project and think, "Easy peasy". Shortly after this thought crosses my mind I'm in my car on the way to the craft store. I get really excited for my little project and can picture the look of sheer pleasure on the face of the recipient when I give them their homemade gift. In fact, yesterday I put together my first crafty Christmas present.

Upon completion, and with a heart full of pride, I set the final product up for inspection. Instantly, my face fell. I'm pretty sure I heard my heart shatter when it hit the floor. It was off center. There was no way to fix it. Hot glue and canvas cannot be fixed with ease. Now I cannot, with good conscience, give this to someone. (I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to crafting.) It's back to square one, with less than 6 weeks until Christmas. When am I supposed to find time?

I have two more projects to do this year.  I'm hoping I can pull them off because I like feeling crafty.  Depending on how they turn out, I might just end up being content with my role as consumer and let other people do the creative stuff. If that happens, I will have a bunch of craft supplies to give away. *sigh*

In Raw Form

I love writing. Well, I love putting words and ideas to paper. The actual act of writing makes the muscles in my hand cramp. And paper is a finite resource. Maybe what I really love doing is blabbing my mouth. Yes, that sounds a little more accurate. What better way to blab than on a blog?

Let's think about this for a moment, shall we? This will benefit the both of us, really. I can satisfy my need to regurgitate all of my thoughts and ideas and jokes and such onto the world. You get to be entertained without even hearing me speak. (There are some people who would prefer that my lips sometimes stay shut- one of them being my husband.) And the best part is, no pain for my hand and no unnecessary slaughter of trees needs to happen in the process. 

So, here we go. Post one of many. My apologies in advance.