When I was 18 I was already a mom.
I remember talking with friends about my plans for the future.
I would never wear mom-sweats (the yoga pant of today).
Make up would be a must before I left the house.
My pedicured foot would never touch the gas pedal of a minivan, only an SUV would do.
I would balance the corporate world and motherhood perfectly, my college degree far to important to “waste”.
And I would never let myself go “down hill” just because I was older and married and comfortable.
My future, prince-charming of a husband would be so lucky. I would be the mom husbands dreamt of having.
Fast forward many years, four more children and countless lessons in the realities of life, and there is so much I wish I could tell my disillusioned, 18 year old self.
I wish I could have told her that life is not all about looks and what kind of car you drive.
That with age comes experience and confidence and being true to who you are.
That being a mom, a good mom, has so much more to do with your heart and your spirit than what you wear to your first Mommy and Me class.
That turning the head of a guy when you look your best, pales in comparison to having a husband who will hold your hand and wipe your tears when you look your worst.
And your worth, what you truly feel good about, has nothing to do with what anyone else thinks, but those beautiful little people kissing your make up free cheek or tugging your yoga pants, as you lift them quickly into the minivan because you’re late for a very important meeting…
lunch with their Daddy.
This post was written in response to prompt #1:
What was your big dream for yourself when you were 18 and had graduated from high school?
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