My mom recently came for a visit to help me out with my three kiddos while my husband was away.  With a constantly deployed husband, I forget how incredibly helpful it is when you have two adults caring for children.  It was such a welcome visit and I’m very thankful for the time she got to spend with us.

My mom normally wants nothing to do with pictures.  There is always something about herself she wants to change, thinking next time we get together she will feel better about the way she looks.  This visit I convinced her that there will never be a better time.  Gunnar will be bigger the next time she sees him and he will never be this little again.  Kids change in the blink of an eye.

And afterall, who really cares if she doesn’t look her best?  I can’t tell. When I look back at pictures of my mom holding me as a baby I don’t think about her being overweight, or not fully madeup, or how her clothes didn’t fit exactly right.  Instead I think about the way her warm soft arms felt holding me, the smell of her perfume, and the way she laughed.  Pictures of the two of us together make me smile because they were of the real times and real memories of her.  She didn’t always have time to take care of herself because she spent it taking care of us.  I don’t even see the imperfections she is so concerned with.  And I don’t think Gunnar will see them either when he looks at the images as he grows up.

I’m preparing for our own family pictures with my husband and children and am finding myself scrambling trying to get myself looking perfect.  But I’ve recently come to the realiztion that to my kid’s, I’m already perfect.