I’ve been kind of hard on myself lately.
Daily running through a list of things I should have gotten done.
The header of my paper
“Ways I Underachieved Again Today.”
Should have dusted,
should have called that place back,
should have added that one more thing in.
I don’t meal plan enough, I don’t go to bed early enough, I don’t exercise enough.
Sometimes I listen to the thought that maybe
I am not enough…
My grays are showing through more now,
and sometimes the bags under my eyes could fill a training bra.
The other day I showed my good friend the state of my nails and she just reached over and slowly and silently tucked my fingers into a fist to conceal them and held them there closed, laughing, with eyes that said,
“Don’t do that again.”
Sometimes I feel stuck in my patterns of too little time, too little energy, too little effort put into me.
It’s so rare that I put on an outfit with any real structure that when I do my kids all act as if they’ve never seen the beast exiting her lair.
I know I am not alone in this, though.
It’s a fight to not let yourself go.
At a recent Mom’s Night with my closest friends, one of them compared loving her children to being like Stockholm Syndrome.
She mimed a snuggle and said,
“Aww. Come here my tiny captor.”
We all laughed because we KNEW.
We all laughed because it felt true.
From the very first time we hold them, we begin the fight to save something for ourselves when the urge is to give every bit of ourselves to them.
I have realized lately how easy it is for me to love everyone around me,
but how hard I often find it to just
love myself.
The other night, my youngest, Paige, had finished her bath a long time before, but had not yet exited the bathroom.
I went down the hall to see what she was doing that was holding her up, and I found her standing, still dripping wet, in front of the mirror, frozen there smiling at herself.
“Paige, it’s time to get on your pajamas,” I said.
“Just a second,” she replied, “I need annudder minute.”
She remained facing the mirror.
Her smiling at her reflection resumed.
“What exactly are you doing that you need another minute for?” I inquired,
watching her just stand there and drip;
And she didn’t turn her smiling face,
but just kept on staring as she answered a most powerful thing:
“I am just standing here liking myself.”
That moment has stuck with me now for several days.
That little girl with nothing to stare at besides a wildly toweled head and a smile simply decided that what she saw was enough to be worth some time admiring.
She saw her stripped-down self and decided that she liked what she saw.
My kids teach me things all the time,
and that lesson in the doorway to my bathroom that night will prove to remind me that, you know what,
I AM enough.
Just as I am.
Running behind, late paying, cotton wearing, cuticles cracked from all the dishes I do, and baby wipes that I use;
Because when I strip myself down,
what is really underneath is a woman who shows up for others, a good friend, a warm heart.
I’m a firm hugger, a good listener.
I’m funny, and I am kind.
Yes, I would love to have it all together all of the time, and do it all with a smile on my face,
but today I choose to smile at my own reflection and say
I am just standing here liking myself.
This article was written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
