“You look so beautiful like that”

I’ve survived the first two morning routines without Chad.  He’s in Calgary this week, and it’s the first time I’ve had all 4 kids for a week by myself.  The regular eb and flow of a day I can manage by myself, with God’s grace, but the morning rush to get Zoë to school with a nursing infant, a two year old and 5 year old in toe had me shaking in my boots.

Monday morning I was amazed at how well everything went. I had the presence of mind not to try for a shower before dropping Zoë off to school and I think this helped-she was even there 5 minutes early! But it was while buckling Nathaniel in his car seat that Zoë said something that’s made me stop and think, a lot. (yup, that’s two words *wink).

She said, “Mom, you look so beautiful like that.”
I stopped and asked “What?”  Maybe I hadn’t heard her right.
“You look so beautiful like that.” she repeated.  Eliya nodded her head in the car seat beside her.
“Well thank you” I muttered. Aware that how I responded needed to be better than what I thought about myself.

As I put the key in the ignition and backed out the driveway I stared at myself, spit up on my tank top, apple juice on my sweatpants (yup, I’ve succumbed to sweatpants at home…), Chads hoodie covering my wildly messy curls in the down pouring rain, not a lick of make up on my very exhausted looking face,  I wondered what she possibly saw.

You see since Mothers day I’ve been really struggling.  I think it’s the hype of the  idealized pictures of mothers on Mothers Day colliding with the reality of my frumpy body post pregnancy.  The honeymoon period of loosing 25 pounds in 3 days and finally no longer lugging a sac of potatoes around in your gut is over and the slow truth is dawning, as much as my feminist bra burning desires want me to say it out loud, the truth is, I don’t feel one ounce of beautiful.  Just the thought of it makes my cheeks burn.

Mothers day found me finally able to grab a shower at 3pm and throw on some clean sweatpants and sloppy shirt after a day with my sick little guy and all I could think of as my girls came in the door from church was how beautiful my own Mom is.  I could see her in my minds eye when I was a child, beautiful in her flowing skirt and pretty shoes. I remember watching her hands, praying one day mine might be half as pretty. I would watching her wash her face at night sometimes and think I was so lucky to have such a beautiful Mom, not like those ugly ones other people were stuck with.  I remember listening to her sing and thinking she sounded like Snow White, and listening to her learn to play the piano and being so proud of her. I was so proud when people would comment about how much I looked like her, I secretly hoped it was true. She is still beautiful, her hands are just as pretty as they were back then, and I long to hear her sing again. She’s known for her kindness and there is nothing as beautiful as watching her love her grandchildren. She truly is beautiful, inside and out and this Mothers Day, I caught myself longing for my children to feel the same way, that their Mama is beautiful.

Monday morning, stinky and unruly I wondered if Zoë saw it, and more than all the little details it is what rests most on my Mom- the love. You see the package this Monday morning wasn’t anything to notice, but maybe, her “like that” was the love-and she saw it- and it was beautiful.