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.