Moms – Embrace Your Freedom & Be Sexier
Before I gave birth and lost all of my dignity on a hospital room table, I was so preoccupied with what people thought of me it often led to inaction. I couldn’t stand it if I knew someone disapproved of what I was doing; I searched for approval around every corner. I remember feeling so ashamed when my husband rebuffed my advances, or being embarrassed when I helped a stranger on the street and my “friends” were appalled I would talk to someone like “that.”
It’s crazy now to think that I was more worried about the approval of people that didn’t really care about me or love me than I was about leading an authentic life. Then I had my son and my eyes were open.
So now when my son decides he’s going to wear a bicycle helmet to the grocery store, I don’t worry about it. I let him express himself, be who he is and I don’t worry about what strangers will think, it’s what he thinks that’s important. I savor these moments with him and am inspired by his creativity and imagination.
He gets me out of my comfort zone and into the world of dirt and messiness. Whether we’re catching lighting bugs, digging in the mud, or making a fort in the living room, we’re together and enjoying each other. I may not “have time” to play, but what else would be more valuable than creating memories and nourishing our souls?
This freedom has also extended itself to my girlfriend time too. Instead of having these long victim filled conversations, we now have fun, inspiring nights. Cocktails by the pool, coffee at sunset, and happy times that always end in intoxicating laughter.
I’m not saying that laugh is perfect or that I’m perfect. Yes, I still get pissy on my period, lose my mind when my kid gets in trouble at school, and mad when drivers cut me off. The difference is that these moods pass quickly. I realize it’s up to me to be happy and that joyfulness is a choice.
Being able to lovingly laugh at myself through the process sustains that joy. Bless motherhood for pouring forth my wellspring of happiness. Let’s just hope my son forgets that I roar like a dinosaur. Actually, let’s hope not.>