The Mirror vs. Mommy

Dear Leo,

As Mommy stared at herself in the mirror this morning she realised that, since your arrival, there have been some radical shifts in her appearance.

Of course all Mommys out there complain about the inevitable loss of smooth belly skin and droopy boobs post pregnancy and birth. However, your Mommy has noted that there are subtler physical changes that accompany the state of motherhood.




Firstly, Mommy is sporting a motley collection of bruises on her upper arms and shins that mysteriously appear after your night wakings. She believes they have something to do with the fact that she refuses to turn on lights in the middle of the night in case you think it's morning. Unfortunately, there are various obstacles Mommy is required to navigate past en route to your room in her dazed, sleep deprived state and clearly she's stumbling into them like a drunk elephant. Fortunately, Mommy can cover these flowery blue marks with sleeves and pants.

The problem, however, with the sleeves and pants is that they often seem to be painted in bits of mushy food or in long white crusty stains. Many times, Mommy will only notice these adornments once she has already left the house, after wondering why people were treating her less proffessionally in meetings than usual. Admittedly, it is hard to take someone seriously when they have baby puke on their shoulder. The baby puke has also become Mommy's unique signature scent. DKNY is for childless folk, and has become a distant memory. She's pleased, however, that she's moved past the point where two soggy circles would appear on her shirt after she'd forgotten to put in breastpads while dashing out the house, and that she no longer reeks like an upended milk truck.

Mommy's hair was very happy during pregnancy. It was healthy and shiny, and made up for the fact that she had a football in the centre of her body. Recently, however, her hair has been looking somewhat bird nesty, with little frizzy strands standing out all over the place. Mommy loves it when you touch her face but fails to understand why you want to pull her hair out. It seems that the fuzzy bits are lost hairs attempting to reassert themselves on her head. Mommy is distressed that they will not yield to any hair product known mankind.

Mommy's make up has become critical to her. The best product she owns is her eye concealer. This is paint-like stuff, approximately the same colour as Mommy's skin. She applies this liberally each morning in an effort to disguise the large raccoon circles around her eyes. Then there is the rose blush that is plastered onto her cheeks, so that she can reclaim that "inner glow" so omnipresent in pregnancy, and now so obviously absent in parenthood.

Lastly, there is The Extra Weight That Won't Leave. Mommy believes one only loses weight while breastfeeding if one doesn't eat chocolates all day. And, once done with breastfeeding and having kicked the chocolate habit, one can only lose weight if one doesn't play "one spoon for you, and one for me" while feeding solids to you. Mommy is still rather too large and jiggly for her liking, and has shining goal to go to gym...somewhere between work, changing your nappies and the vestiges of her social life.

Luckily, Mommy does realise that This Too Will Pass and, although she will never be the same again physically (or mentally for that matter), she confesses that it is the most worthwhile sacrifice she has ever made, and that she would not change it or you for anything else.

Much love,
Mommy