It was a Sunday evening. We were about to leave Moo-Moo's house to head home to get the girls to bed. I was bent down, putting Middle Girl's sparkly pink shoes on her little feet. In retrospect, it was something she could have done herself, but there I was helping her. And as I did, my babe looked up at me, eyes bright and said something, something I didn't expect, something it turns out I needed to hear.
Pretty pretty Mommy, she said, grinning. Pretty pretty Mommy.
Oh how I smiled. I smiled big and I secured those little velcro straps and I scooped her up into a big, fat hug. And then I said something, too.
Thank you, my girl.
We might be tired and stretched and stuck in yoga pants and standard-issue existential storms, but we are still attractive. We might not have tons of time to shower or primp or accessorize, but that doesn't mean we have let ourselves go. We might have our eyes on our kids, chasing them around the world, fretting over their happiness and safety, dressing them in cute clothes and boots, snapping and sharing pictures of their abiding adorableness, but that doesn't mean that we don't look good, too.
Home from school. She sheds her pink backpack to the floor. Unzips it. Pulls a piece of paper from it, waves it in my face. For you, Mommy! she says. And I look at it. It's us! Me and Mommy! And I look at it. And I can't help but smile because there we are, the two of us with our blue eyes and impossibly long lashes, our matching blond hair.
I love it, sweets, I say, scooping her up. Thank you.
Do you feel pretty these days? Do your kids remind you of your own beauty, physical and otherwise? Do you feel more or less attractive than you used to? Is Middle Girl's picture wonderful or what?