Just Me

The day of wiping little poopy bottoms, feeding hungry mouths, molding wild spirits, had brought me to my typical appearance.  Dirty sweatpants paired with an oversized shirt that belongs to my husband.  Hair not sure if it was going in or out, up or down.  Tired eyes and heavy yawns.  Wrinkle lines deepening and worry lines settling in.  

It was bedtime, regrettably not for myself but rather for the littles.  I was reading Jean Little’s “His Banner Over Me” to my 6 year old.  The one that I have been struggling with lately, feeling as though she is lacking something in me.  Needing something more.  Missing something important.  But not knowing how to give it to her.  Falling short, again.  

We finished the chapter and rolled over to look at each other.  She spoke.  

Mom.  I don’t like all those moms with perfect skin with no bumps.  I like you the best.  

She settled in and closed her eyes.  

And I remembered.

I’m so far from perfect.  I’m so removed from gracefulness, poise, got-it-togetherness, and the calm spirit I wish I frequented more often.  

But I am enough for her.  I am what she wants, who she needs and the only thing she could lack.  She’s not looking for that perfect fashion hugging, yoga going, social driven, make up applying, apple pie baking, parenting book reader, baking soda volcano building mama.  

She just wants me.