“Comparison is the thief of joy.” -Theodore Roosevelt
Last week I had “one of those days.” Nothing was going right, and it was a pure fight just to keep up morale.
Fast forward to the afternoon when I had some rare, and deeply appreciated, personal time. I was getting my hair cut and while I waited I picked up a much coveted fashion magazine.
I flipped through said magazine, reading article after article, seeing picture after picture of one thing: glamorous people.
Movie stars. Models. Producers and Editors. People who sit in the beauty chair DAILY, not bi-annually like me.
And then it happened. Upon reading a particular article about one woman’s fashion-forward glamorous life, I suddenly realized that I recognized her. Could it be? Is that??? Yes. We went to high school together.
And suddenly my life felt really, really small.
I mean, let’s be honest. Thirty minutes earlier, I barely had the wherewithal to give myself a once over before leaving the house. Actually, I know I didn’t. I spent that precious MINUTE picking dried Cheerios off my pants instead.
I just spent $2.50 on a new bottle of nail polish as a “pick me up” treat.
Really. That’s about as fashion-forward as I get.
As I sat in the salon chair, quietly evaluating my life, I realized that everyone around me seems to lead a more glamorous life than I do.
My friends attend glamorous luncheons and galas. They wear glamorous clothes, and their jobs lead them to glamorous places all over the world. Seriously, I have a friend in New Dehli as we speak.
Sticky, day-old Cheerios.
Later that evening, I walked in our door…nothing to show for myself but a haircut and some cheap nail polish—little to no make-up—and last night’s lack of sleep still hanging under my eyes.
The first thing I hear? A soft, ever-so-high pitched angelic voice…
“Mommy, you wanna play with me?”
I could feel the love melt over me.
Yes, son. Yes I do.
As we played, all my previous thoughts and insecurities disappeared.
My life may not be glamorous…
But it is sweet. It’s playing cars, and having tickle fights. It’s morning cuddles and swinging at the park. It’s jumping on the couch and dance parties in the kitchen. Daily.
It’s “I love you’s” and magical kisses that instantly heal boo-boos. It’s singing lullabies and saying nighttime prayers.
It’s being loved. And needed.
And it’s shaping little human beings.
I’m the only Mommy my boys will ever have. And I have a sneaking suspicion that “glamour” isn’t one of the job requirements.
In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s not even on their radar. And I know it’s not on God’s…so remind me again why it’s on mine?
My life is not glamorous. No.
I’m enough for my family, just as I am.
And you know what? That’s enough for me.