Where’s Fluffy Mommy?

I mentioned a while back that I signed up for a kickboxing session.

(and how I almost puked)

So, I did something crazy and signed up to KEEP GOING.

(I know. I think I’m crazy too)

They have this thing called “flex friday”, and I remembered when I was taking my oldest to basketball and jokingly said “hey, it’s flex friday! how is this?”, flexing my arm. He looked at me with this look of horror and was all WHAAA?

I said, “man, is it THAT bad?!” (meaning, I’m totally wimpy looking, right?)

He responded, “where’s my comfy mom?!”. I was thinking he’d lost his mind. What ever did he mean?

He said, “mom, you’re STRONG! I like my comfy mom…”

And it hit me. All the effort and work put into being healthy and making healthy choices and wanting to be a better example for my kids….and, honestly, they don’t care.

But not in a bad way. In a good way.

{And I’m no where as near to my personal goals as I’d like to be, but I am getting there. And I will in time, but meanwhile I love how much stronger I’m getting. And that is my main focus}

I know we’ve all heard it before, that being present and joining our kids and entering into their worlds is so important. And it absolutely is! That our kids don’t care what we look like and they just want us to be there with them. And they absolutely don’t care.

They just want us.

My kids love when I ride bikes and go to the park and splash along with them in the water at the pool. They want me to “watch mom!” a bazillion times while they jump in or off or climb or draw a picture. They like it when I take the time to read with them, to color with them, to PLAY and enter their world.

They honestly don’t care what mom “looks like”. They care that mom is there.

It got me to thinking back through my childhood. I don’t remember what my mom looked like. Not in the sense that we are seemingly always wondering ourselves (stretch marks, cellulite, wrinkles, tanned or not tanned skin, what size our clothing label says….). I remember, before depression took over and my parents emotionally checked out on my sister and I, the times when my mom baked my favorite cake and would go swimming with me. I remember her teaching me tennis and going for jogs and bike rides. And that she had a red swimsuit.

I don’t remember what she looked like. I remember when she entered my world.

When DO we start noticing?

I think, for me, it was when I hit middle school age and learned what a size zero meant and looked like. When I learned that those things apparently matter.

Even then, I don’t think I ever noticed my mom for what size she was or wasn’t. I noticed when she was there.

So, it seems, my oldest notices too. Notices when mom is present. How often we go out on Mother/Son dates and when we get to watch the next season of Doctor Who. Notices when I’m listening and how often I make sure to add in his favorites when I’m meal planning.

Kids definitely notice. But they don’t seem to notice looks like we do.

My oldest daughter notices when I wear new earrings or a different color lipstick. My youngest daughter notices when I change the color on my nails and wants “some too!”. My boys seem to think I’m always pretty and tell me so, even when I’m having a “messy hair don’t care” kinda day. Hearing “mom, you’re awesome” and “HUG!!!” always makes this mama’s heart happy.

Something they all seem to care about the most? Mom being huggable and available.

I find it comical that here I am being concerned about what I look like or how I feel and my children are mostly concerned that mom is still “comfortable”.

I told my oldest, “I am still COMFORTING! And I’m not stopping kickboxing anytime soon”….

But I get it. I understand what he’s saying. And I can still “be comfy” and not necessarily fluffy.

And perhaps us mamas need to start seeing ourselves more like our children do. Not by shape or size or (insert whatever it is here), but by our being present, available and “comfy”. By entering their world and being their person.

It’s amazing how often I think I take for granted the job I have. The absolute importance of being their mama and what that means.

SO, let’s do it mamas (and dads). Through the tired, the late nights, homework assignments, early mornings, spilled coffee, special needs, therapy appointments, tantrums, meltdowns, hugs, kisses, cheering them on, our hearts breaking when they hurt, cooking dinner, packing lunches, sporting/dance/chess club (or whatever it is our kiddos do) events and ALL THE THINGS in between….let’s see us the way they see us….

Being present. Being available. Being comfy.