My son snapped this picture of me a few summers ago. When I look at it, I am immediately transported back to a moment in time. And that moment was not pleasant.
We were on vacation in Colorado. Vacations with kids are not my happy place as much as I truly wish they were. This particular day was a doozy. We had driven a curvy road in our massive van up the top of a peak. I was NERVOUS the entire time, which meant doing irrational things, like leaning my body into the opposite direction of every curve in the hopes of keeping us from toppling down the mountain. The kids were oblivious to my sheer terror and kept asking for me to do normal mom stuff, like open their snacks and tell them which Marvel superhero I thought could jump highest.
When we got to the top, the air felt so thin to these Midwestern lungs. I felt sick and I had a crabby baby strapped to my chest who wasn’t feeling so great herself. She was fine letting everybody know how unhappy she was and I was embarrassed because sound really travels at the top of the world.
After a long look (TOO LONG) around a tiny museum/gift shop, my husband decided to take the adventurous kids on a little hike to the very top of the mountain. I was not up for it, so I headed back to the van with the rest of the kids who were not having the best day. The baby finally cried herself to sleep on my chest, I managed to scold the other kids into a moment of silence and I too fell asleep.
When I see this picture, I see an exhausted mom. An old mom. A crabby mom. I see the wrinkles, the remains of a sunburn I forgot you could get in Colorado, the fact that even in my sleep my brow looks furrowed with concern. I forgot to put on eyeliner. My eyebrows are nonexistent. A double chin is beginning to form.
When my teenage son showed me this picture he said, “I took a picture of you, Mom. You’re going to love it.”
When I look at it through his eyes, I see something so different.
I see our precious baby fast asleep on my chest. So perfect. So loved. So trusting.
I see a mom who is present with her kids. SO. VERY. PRESENT.
I see a moment in time when everything was still and I was at peace.
I remember that when my son sees me, he doesn’t judge me against the standard of magazine perfection. He isn’t looking for physical beauty. He sees me as a mom. His mom. Their mom. And he knows how much I treasure that role.
“You’re going to love it.”
Because the pictures of me are rare. But my love is every day, all the time, awake and asleep.
So I do love it. I see it how he saw it. And it has changed how I take pictures of myself. I used to only want to see the best angles. I was embarrassed of the fact that I was an old mom raising young kids. But I realize now that these young kids won’t have as many years to take pictures with their mom. And they don’t care about the silver hairs or the sagging skin. I’m just their mom.
So I’m taking the embarrassing selfies with my kids and I’m not deleting them when the wrinkles around my eyes are the first thing I notice. Because that’s not what they notice. They just see a mom that loves them and wanted to remember that moment together. That’s what I want to see too.