Moms are beautiful creatures.
Often we see them tending to their young in the wild terrain of cities, towns, and villages. Chasing and coaxing 50% of their DNA to ‘be careful’ and ‘have one more bite’. Bags under their eyes and hair in a messy bun spewing from the crown of their heads, the mother is often unwashed, covered in offspring’s vomit, eyeing the closest parking spot to the cart return, hair flopped to one side, lip balm close at hand.
The mother is talented, able to multi-task while keeping her spawn alive and well, she is always armed with some version of a camera to capture moments as the Mommarazzi.
By far, out of all the many notable traits, talents, and identifying features of the mother creature, the most outstanding is her mysterious quality.
So rare is the historical evidence of the existence of the mother. Never featured in the thousands of photos and videos of their young; so limited in number that a less experienced observer of the mother creature may believe that the species does not actually exist – as mysterious and rare as a sighting of the Yetti or Big Foot of the West Coast or Abominable Snowman of the Arctic. The only trace of the mother is fed, healthy, happy children…and a cracked cell phone strewn on a crumby couch while Joni Mitchell plays somewhere softly in the background…an empty bottle of wine on the counter.
Is she shy? Invisible? Stealthy?
Where is Mom?
I will be the first to admit that I am rarely in photos or videos with my kids.
When I was a kid, my Mom was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I still think that today. I think a lot of kids feel that way about their Moms. There is just something special about the face that you have known literally your entire life. The first face you memorized as an infant, and loved unconditionally. That person protected you, cared for you, scolded you, laughed with you, cried with you, was so proud of you. How could you not find that person to be the most beautiful human you have ever seen?
I have a video of my 6th birthday party, and my Mom was the host in our house. It is the only historical footage I have of my younger self and my mother in one package, and I cherish it dearly… and she hates it!
I am rarely in photos with my own kids for the same reason: Because I think there is a common thread in the Mom World where we are not super happy with the way we look all the time, and documenting that feels bad/scary/[insert negative feeling here].
Isn’t that crappy?
It is crappy. And today, I thought, you know what? My kids might feel the way I do about my Mom: How I wish I had more photos of our life together where both of us were in it.
Photos are so treasured! What the hell am I doing not annoyingly inserting myself into every picture with my kids (heck, the whole fam-damily) even when my hair’s a mess, no makeup on, and feeling extra postpartum chubby?
I implore you to take that awkward selfie because you and your human are wearing matching t-shirts. Be bold, brave, and brag about it! Do it! Email those pictures to your kids, print them off, make a photo book…whatever floats your boat. Just get ‘Mom’ back in those images, frozen in time.
Because those pictures are not actually for you, in the end, are they?
They are for those little people who will grow up to be big people who will one day miss their Mom, and will need to remember the moments they spent with her. With you! The woman they believe to be the most beautiful human in the world: the wonderful and mysterious Mom Creature.
#putMombackinthephoto
Sincerely yours,
Fumbling Mom
Fumbling Mom 