This one time my kids and I went out, I spotted a mom with two well behave kids walking by her side and a sleeping baby on the pram. I was really stunned by the scenario, because I have two wailing kids with me.
One is in the pram (Wacky-age 2.7), crying, munching or spilling whatever he has in there.
The other one(Ecka-age 3.9), holding my hands, tugging my short until it nearly falls or grabbing the hem of my shirt revealing all the flab that I planned to hide carefully and sometimes she’s crying too, asking for everything within her sight.
Looking at that mom and then looking at myself shushing and trying to shut them up, I felt envious and bad. I felt inadequate and everything related to that word. Why can’t I be like her, smiling and compose or like Katie Holmes spotted by paparazzi carrying Suri with a mock or is that a smile on her face. Like Jennifer Garner, walking with her kids complete with a beautiful hair flowing in the air, flat tummy peeping on her equally nice shirt. And here I am the complete opposite of everything good in them. Attempting to achieve that look once made my daughter said: “Mom, you look like a girl!” It’s been years and my kids thought I was indeed a guy. Yes, like a daddy called mommy. To my skepticism, I checked myself in the mirror and see how do I really look.
Well, I still have the pretty face (whoosh) but meh!
I wear my husband’s t-shirt trying to hide the bulge from my post baby weight, which by the way is 2.7 years after I have given birth and yes, it’s still there and I still call it that way. I wear a short exposing all the cellulites, and a flip flop the whole year round just because it’s comfy. My hair is either wet after shower or wet because of sweat. Sometimes, I’m the walking epitome of a zombie with kids that so healthy, people will ask why I haven’t eaten their brains yet.
That’s just me and my kids were cutesies, physically speaking. Though they’re always trying a fit, they do it with style. Their hair were well combed and tied properly. Dress and shirts are neat and cute. Branded footwear and in time with the season and despite them trying to ruin the look, I’m there wiping and combing and arranging the mess repeatedly. Should there be emergencies, I have extra shirts, undies; name it I have it on the largest bag I could carry. Unlike me, spilled ice creams, chocolates, oil, or milk can be seen on my shirt and a woman in the elevator will ask me if they were my kids because unfortunately I looked like their nanny.
But that’s fine, because I’m not running for Mrs. Universe or a celebrity. I always don’t give a damn. I’m just going to school, grocery or fast food. Why should I be dolled up? Sometimes, I do put a lipstick on and drop my normal clothes in exchange with a nice jeans, a mommy top and nice flats but it’s for the rare occasions like shopping in the city, going to church, having a nice dinner out and meeting with friends. Other than that, I find it hard to lift even a powder to hide my blemishes. Lazy you think, but no. I just don’t have all the time and energy to do it.
What I was really hoping (and achieving) is just walking with two behave kids. Smiling or laughing. Just like that. As simple as that. Sadly, it’s not anytime soon. These two are still enjoying this moment of crankiness and scruffiness. This is by the way, also fine with me. I just allowed myself to be jealous a little bit because I think it’s healthy. Daydreaming that I am either Katie or Jennifer is an indulgence to me, waking up that I am Mommy Gem is reality.
These kids make me the mess I am today, and surprisingly this is the best that I am. Though not obvious actually, inside I’m that happy soul with two not perfect kids and a husband that supports and love me the way I am just Mommy Gem and for me that’s more than well. It’s great!