On Sunday I posted this picture to Instagram with the following comment about the picture:
Sleeping baby in my lap. Waiting for The Hubbs and Caitlin while they get hair cuts. Car wash check. Grocery next and Panda Express for dinner. Breathe in that air, it's Sunday. #itshappyhere #momstaysinthepicture #evenwithoutmakeup
Sunday was one of those days that make you forget the hard stuff. We slept in. I cooked breakfast. I took a nap (a real one for like an hour!). Then we, all four of us, piled in the car, to run errands. The boring stuff. The stuff that you put off until the last minute. Car wash. Grocery store. Hair cuts. Yet, we had fun. We were together. We were enjoying each others company.
So I took that photo in a quiet moment in a walk in hair salon. With Mac sleeping in my lap, and let's face it, that rarely happens anymore. Which is funny since I used to think that a baby sleeping on my chest was such a drag. I could be doing so many other things, but alas it was the only way my kid would nap. Now I long for those days. I never thought I would feel that way. But now I know just how precious that time is.
I look at that picture above and I realize I'm really happy. That's not to brag, or to boast about how incredibly awesome my life is. My life is very similar to yours I'm sure. It's hard. It's messy and chaotic. It's so far from perfect it's laughable. Yet, I'm happy. For the first time in my life I don't want to be someone else. That's a big deal for me. I spent the better part of my teens and twenties playing the comparison game. Always thinking my life would be better if I was blond like so and so. If I was skinny like whats her face. If I was popular like that girl over there. It was sad and now I realize a complete waste of time. I've been me, for all these years, for a reason. And finally I can understand and appreciate that.
Sunday was a really good day. I didn't cook. I didn't clean. I napped but didn't shower. I still had raccoon eyes from wearing makeup the day before. But none of that really matters. What matters is that it was a good day. A day where I was present, and in the moment. A day where I said yes, more than I said no. A day where I turned off my computer, put down the Sunday paper, and read a book to Mac, without hesitation. A good day, with a quiet moment, and a single picture. A picture that told me all I needed to know, all I needed to remember, and all I needed to appreciate.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but I disagree.
A picture can speak volumes.
