I spent today celebrating my soon to be 39th birthday with my family. I spent most of it looking at and thinking about my mom.
It’s funny, when my mom was 39 I was 14. I remember she seemed so mature. Not as in old, but as in put together and with it. She was responsible and seemed to always know what was best and what was happening. Extremely smart, competent and well, motherly. Beautiful.
When I look at myself in the mirror I do not see that mature woman I saw in my mother. I see me, trying to do my best. Seemingly one step behind, but hanging in there. Making mistakes, but moving forward. I see my hopes and dreams for myself and my family for the future. I see a woman who struggles to find balance with self, motherhood and family. I see tired eyes and the beginning of wrinkles. I also see contentment with where I am today and the fact that I know I do not need to be perfect.
My daughters are three and five. I often wonder what they see when they look at me. I wonder what my Mom saw when she looked in the mirror when she was 39.
I think I should ask her.