Yesterday, my son climbed on my lap, held my face in his hands and said, “You are so, so, so, so pretty”. This was no ordinary compliment, considering it came from the kid who is usually commenting on someone’s most unattractive qualities.

It was also remarkable because I don’t feel pretty much these days. Granted, there was a time when I looked all right. But, what once was gangly is now pudgy, what was firm is now wrinkled, what was straight is now slouched, and what was smooth is now scarred. I work out, I take my vitamins, I try to eat right, I’ve even been sleeping better, but I will never have what I once did.

I’m at an age where a minute in the sun seems to add a new wrinkle, and when my dermatologist gets ahold of me, she chops moles off like she’s a butcher…always leaving mangled marks along the way. I rarely feel comfortable leaving the house without make-up, and more often than not, I’ll don a hat and sunglasses before taking the kids to school.

My hair never looks quite right, and clothes don’t fit like they used to. My bra deserves overtime pay for all the work it has to do. I’m a Mom, I’m nearing 40, I don’t have the time or energy it takes to make myself look attractive.

But, in the eyes of my five year old, I’m pretty…and that’s good enough for me.

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“Michael Scott’s Dunder Mifflin Scranton Meredith Palmer Memorial Celebrity Rabies Awareness Fun Run Race for the Cure. This is Pam.”

“You spend your whole life trying to get people to like you, and then you run over one person with your car and it’s not even one of the popular ones…and everyone gets on your case.”

“Well, if you’re going to reduce my identity to my religion, then I’m Sikh. But, I also like hip-hop and NPR. And, I’m restoring a 1967 Corvette in my spare time.”

“I’m not superstitious, but I’m a little stitious.”

“Well, you left your TV on…and your cat is dead.”

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Sigh…I looked at my eight year old daughter this morning and couldn’t believe how big she suddenly was. It was like she sprouted up a few inches overnight. She was only 2 pounds 9 ounces when she was born, and that baby…that little, teeny, tiny baby who could fit in the palm of her father’s hand…well, she could NOT be the same child I see before me now. It’s like this new kid just gobbled up the other one. A dingo didn’t do it…a third-grader ate my baby.

As we near her 9th birthday, it’s hard to think that her life in this house is almost half over. Nine years from now we’ll be nearing her 18th birthday and she’ll be entering college shortly after that. How is that possible? The years since she was born have flown. They’re a blur really. Day to day crap didn’t eat my memories, it devoured them.

Today before I sent her off to school, I gave her an extra hug and kiss. What more can I do really? I can’t hold on to her forever, though there are days I wish I could. There are times I wish I could hold that little two pound baby in my arms…go back to a time, after she got off her heart monitor, when I didn’t have to worry about her so much. When there was no hustle and bustle of school, homework, sports, life. I want to yell at her, “Stop growing!”

And yet, there is so much joy in watching her mature. She is smart, funny, extremely kind and generous, a wonderful big sister and friend, and not a bad softball player either. There’s no doubt that life won’t always be a breeze with her. We know we have battles ahead. So somehow, someway, I have to find time to enjoy her while she’s young. Just for today, I’m going to take the day to day crap and shove it where it won’t get in the way. Just for today, because tomorrow is only nine years away.

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I have been tossing around the idea of allowing comments on this blog. My in-box this morning had two separate requests for a comment section, but I have reasons why I’ve avoided it up to now.

Though my life and language are not always G-Rated, this blog is. My eight year old reads it. My mother and my mother-in-law read it. So, if you post a comment I ask that you please use discretion and “clean” language. I know, for a fact, that the first thing most of my friends would like to do is leave a comment laced with profanity, just to get me in trouble! I’m trusting you won’t.

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