Memory of Me

I’m sure you’ve been seeing the article “The Mom Stays in The Picture” by Allison Tate floating around on FB and various blogs, well I finally made time to read it. I was in tears by the end.

I too am rather frumpy right now. I’ve just moved our family of 5 to a new town, I’ve got a preschooler, a toddler & a 6 week old. I reek of spit up, got those leaky, porn-star size boobs (funniest part of Allison Tate’s article!), semi-hairy legs (yes, gross!) and if I don’t have a kiddo on my back or in my arms I’m running around keeping the laundry, dishes and cleaning up. I’m NEVER in any condition to have my picture made these days. Even if I spend forever getting ready my eyes look tired, skin splotchy or my hair is tied up in a bun.

This post hurt my heart. I rarely have “raw” moment pictures taken with my kids. As a person who lost her Dad to liver cancer at age 15, I long for pictures that we had taken with him, but I have few and far between. I want my children to have a memory of me. The fun we had making silly faces, playing together, the never-ending love for them just beaming from my eyes, the happiness that shines from my smile.

I no longer care if they have picture evidence of my bun, spit-up stained t-shirt or splotchy skin. I want nothing more than picture evidence that I was always beside them, loving them and enjoying them.

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Let this be, their memory of me.

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