I’m so tired. Is it even possible to be this tired? I scroll through old photos on my phone, photos from like 5 years ago. My skin was plump and glowing. The bags under my eyes, ok they were still there, but they weren’t THIS dark. There were so many photos of me back then. Now, they’re far and few between.
I scroll back down to now. Where am I in these pics? Ag look how cute my baby guy is. That was a fun day. But flip – no photos of me. Like 1 every 3 months. I need to make more of an effort.
Maybe it’s because I just don’t care about taking photos of me anymore. I’m too busy running after him, making sure he’s happy, warm, feeling loved, etc. Then… when I get a gap, I chill. I pour some wine and I watch. I watch the most simplest of moments become the most joyful experiences for him. He’s trying to make a folded paper frog jump around the house. He’s making sure it misses the lines between the tiles, because the tiles are the lily pads. So much fun. “Mommy look!” “Wow baby, that’s so cool!” I say back. But man I’m tired. Not from lack of sleep. I’m just tired.
I feel like there is a part of me that completely died when I became a Mom. The part that used to make sure to take photos of all the special moments. The part that used to make sure my nails always looked good and that my skin was always smooth and silky, and that my legs were always shaved. The part that cared more about me, what I looked like, what I felt like, what I did with my spare time. Spare time. Hmmmm. Spare time. How do I get more of that again? And when I get it, what shall I do with it? Where do I begin? To rebuild the part that died? Maybe it’s time to leave her behind. Maybe… it’s time to make a new version of me. A version that is a Mother and a woman, who loves and cares for herself in different ways. Who’s legs aren’t always shaved, but who’s heart is always open…
Open to new possibilities of what it means to be me.