Pretty Ugly

Just had one of those "moments".

You know, the moment of truth, looking in the mirror for the first time since getting dressed this morning.

I call this the "moment of truth" because there is no glitz here. I have been about the business of organizing the house, feeding the kids, wiping bottoms, teaching school, and sucking down my coffee somewhere in between. My "personal care" time, two or five minutes of pulling on jeans and a sweater, washing my face, and slapping on some make-up, has long gone.

So now I am back in the bathroom to brush my teeth, and I glance in the mirror.

Yesterday, I grimaced. The salmon-colored sweatshirt was not working for me, my face looked old and worn, and my hair was out of control. I made a face at myself, pulled my hair back, and hoped no unexpected visitors would appear on my doorstep.

Today, I was pleasantly surprised.

Miraculously, my hair was smooth and shiny. The olive sweater accented my eyes, and somehow my face looked younger. This definitely is a boost, albeit a somewhat superficial one, to my confidence.

I walk out of the bathroom with a spring in my step, and run smack into World War III. As I sorted the axis from the allies, it hit me.

These kids don't care whether I am having a good hair day or not. They could care less about my outfit, my clothes, or that red bump on my nose. To them, I am the same... day in, and day out.

I am their Mama.

And that is beauty enough for me.

:)