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Have you stopped lately to notice how eerily similar us moms are in a lot of ways? It’s like, somehow or another we share this unspoken, kinda creepy bond. Sometimes you can just look at a mom and tell what she’s feeling. What’s on her mind. How much [or more often than not, how little] she has slept lately. The kind of day she is having.
I started thinking about this last night when I was getting ready for church. [Random, I know. But I did.] I was standing there about to touch up my makeup and fix my hair and what I saw in the mirror almost knocked me backwards. Yep. I have started to ::gulp:: look like a mom. Now before you all decide to stop following me, never leave me comments any more, and tell all of your blog friends that I think mom’s look terrible, give me a chance to plead my case.
I think Mom’s are beautiful.
Really. All of us. To endure what we endure during child birth is reason enough to think that we are pretty friggin’ awesome. But to me, and I think I’ve always been like this, one of the most beautiful things in the world is to see a mother with her child. Whether that child is happy or pitching one of those God-awful fits in the middle of the Grocery Store.
But mom’s just have a look about them. I can’t quite pin-point what it is. But most of the time, you can just look at someone and tell they have children. Even older women. I think you can tell whether someone has had a child before. No matter what they do to themselves to get that pre-baby body back, having a child just sticks to you [Literally. Haha.]
For me, I realized last night that I looked like a mom by the dark circles under my eyes. Thank God for concealer. Mom’s should get that stuff in a Goody Bag when you leave the hospital after child birth. And when I really started noticing my new found “Mom-ish” appearance, I realized that everything about me was different. I walk different. I talk differently. I even where different kinds of clothes. I’ve turned into a mom. Kids call me “Ma’am” and “Mrs.” That’s creepy. I don’t feel old enough to be called Ma’am. That’s what I call my mom…and Josh’s Grandmother. Not me. I’m not even 23 yet and I’ve got folks calling me Ma’am.
Is that something that just comes with the territory? The pimply face guy that works at the Shell Station where we always get drinks before church on Wednesday night calls me Ma’am. He’s probably older than me…but I have a baby, so I’m a ma’am. The Sales Woman in Dillards not too long ago asked me if I was shopping for my daughter or a friend when I was browsing dresses in the Juniors Department…probably because I had Noah with me. [Yes. I still shop in Junior sometimes. So sue me. I only wear a size 6…or 8 depending on the brand. And I’m only 22, so I think I’m allowed.]
Fact is, everything changes when you have a child. This past summer I almost cried in Victoria’s Secret when I was shopping for lingerie and a swimsuit. I picked out a modest 2-piece swimsuit and got ready to check out. Hubby was there with Noah in his stroller and he was waiting outside the store for me. I waved at him and this hateful woman behind me piped up:
“Is that your baby?”
“Yes Ma’am [again with the ma’am thing…] He is.” I smiled, thinking the woman was about to tell me how cute my kid was.
She looks at me and nods her head, then looks at the bikini I’m about to purchase. “Hmm…well, if I were you I would be a little bit more modest with what I was wearing. You know you are a mother now. You might want to consider something a little less revealing to wear to the beach.”
Like, all of a sudden I’m not allowed to wear a 2-piece swimsuit because I have a child. When did being a mom suddenly strip you of your rights to shop at Victoria’s Secret? And what was that lady doing in there? Surely she couldn’t be buying lingerie…and should it even matter?
::Sigh:: Anywho. Don’t really know how I got off on that rant. I digress.
Moral of the Story: Mom’s have a look. I can’t explain it. I don’t know what it is. But we do. We share something. I can walk past a mom with 2 or 3 kids in WalMart who are acting up in the aisles. She looks at me, I look at her, and I know she gets the telepathic message I’m sending her. “Sucks for you right now. But I’m really glad mine is behaving at the moment.” We smile and go about our merry way. Ever done that before?
What kinds of things have YOU noticed that mother’s have in common? Is it our keen sense to help out and offer baby wipes to the mom whose just been spit-up on across way from you at a restaurant? Is it your naturally ability to help a child find his mom at the grocery store? What do you see that we all have in common? Would love to hear from you guys!