This day and age, if you turn on the television or glance to your right at the checkout aisle, there are tons of mommy misrepresentations. Where are the photos of tired eyes, sleepless nights, stains, snotty noses, and frumpy clothes? All these moms seem to have it together with their sexy running attire, nannies to the rescue, and Pilates for lunch! The reality is that these celebrities probably go through the same rush hour mommy business we go through that causes us to stock up on under eye cream, but we don’t see it because either Photoshop came to the rescue, or the content editor doesn’t feel the need to include such things. How many of us look up to these high-end mothers and wish we had time for a mani/pedi? How many of us look in the mirror and think we need Botox? Do you find yourself not dressing up because your audience is more interested in Sesame Street?
Truth be told, there is much joy in motherhood, but sometimes we get so caught up in either comparing ourselves to unrealistic circumstantial bliss, or we really just lose our identity in becoming a mother. A great friend of mine has encouraged me to pamper myself once in a while. She has uplifted my spirits reminding me that what I do is hard work, and that I deserve it. It’s okay to be selfish once in a while and take a trip to the mall without my kids, or set that hair appointment. I love my little girls, and I do everything for them, but I have found out recently that I have neglected myself in making sure they have more than what they need. When I look in the mirror and realize my clothes are outdated, my nails need a personal trainer, and my hair has highlights of grey not caramel, I realize that I need to find “me” again. The woman inside that is just called by her beautiful first name, and not the one who is beckoned to “feed me”, “wipe me”, “hold me”, or the girl who is the designated “time out police”.
There is truly a woman inside of me who needs tender loving care. There is a person inside of me who wants to feel sexy, alive, and free once in a while. I have noticed that I must find a balance between being mommy, and being me. We are both the same woman, but each part of me needs an extra helping of love and consideration. Last night my girls nurtured the mommy in me by volunteering out of nowhere to give me a foot massage. I wouldn’t trade that moment for anything in the world, however, there is no denying that I need some maintenance and some adult interaction. My goal is to have a girl’s night out soon, and I have painted just one fingernail to remind me that the salon is calling my name.