Summer is freeze pops, sunscreen and swimming. Lots and lots of swimming.
Grace, Anna and I were at the pool. My older daughter was swimming—actually swimming. My younger daughter, meanwhile, was alternating between adjusting her goggles, blowing bubbles and throwing a plastic ring for Grace to “fetch”—the myriad activities that little kids engage in when they’re in the water. Then Anna grabbed my arms and began bouncing up and down on my thighs.
“Mom!” Up and down, up and down. “You’re a trampoline!”
“No.” It was one of those moments when you could laugh or cry—it could go either way, equally. “I’m not.” Moms everywhere understand: I’m a person. A person.
Not long after, Anna overheard me tell another mom that I appreciated that my new swimsuit had adjustable straps. Minutes later, I felt the metal hooks on the adjustable straps zoom down.
“Anna!” I stopped my upper body from tumbling out of my swimsuit, as Anna continued to tug on the hooks. “Stop, honey.”
“But Mom, you have adjustable straps.” Anna smiled. “They’re fun.”
Laugh or cry…laugh or cry.
Speaking of my new swimsuit: I ordered it online. When it arrived in the mail, and I tried it on…well, let’s just say I wasn’t #twinning with the model from the website. I peered in the mirror.
“Ooh, you got a new bathing suit, Mom!” As always, the girls were nearby.
“Mm-hmm. What do you think, girls?”
There was a pause.
“It’s OK if you don’t like it,” I assured them.
“I like the bathing suit,” one daughter (I won’t say who) said. “But I think it’s for someone who isn’t a little fat.”
“Yeah,” the other daughter (also anonymous in this story) agreed. “It’s just that, you look like you have a baby in your belly.”
Laugh or cry, laugh or cry…
“But you don’t! We know you don’t, Mom. You just look like that.”
I mean, whew. I just look pregnant in my new swimsuit.
“Mom.” Concerned, Grace hugged me. “I love you.”
Anna threw her arms around both of us. “I love you too, Mom. And I love your big, soft belly.”
We group hugged.
The truth is—actually, there are two truths here. The first is, I do have belly fat. I gave birth to two children, am getting older and do zero (and I do mean zero) lower-ab exercises.
Stanton and I also just got into “The Wire” (15+ years later), and I’ve been spending many an evening beside him on our couch, engrossed in the show and munching on a bowl of raw Brazil nuts.
Just kidding, friends. You know I’ve got Cheetos or Doritos in that bowl.
So I accept my body, as is. Could it be toned? Yes. Should I curb my late-night junk-food habit? Definitely…sometime soon.
Am I, overall, healthy? And happy? Thankfully, the answer to both those questions is also “yes.”
The second truth is, I’m glad my daughters were honest with me. Children usually are honest—brutally honest, one might say. Ask any parent, aunt, uncle, teacher, babysitter, and they’d probably all agree: honest, to a fault.
As we grow up, we learn to temper our honesty with tact, diplomacy. I’ve worked in communications for years now, and I understand why finesse matters, in both professional and personal relationships. I get it.
I get it, and after our group hug, I told the girls they can always be honest with me. Even if they think the truth might hurt my feelings. I’d rather my daughters not be diplomats with me. I’m their mom. I want them to know they can tell me anything, talk with me about anything.
They do now. And I hope they always do.
I’d rather my daughters not be diplomats with me. I’m their mom.
Stanton, the girls and I recently went to the beach. All four of us had been looking forward to our family vacation, but Grace and Anna especially. And we did have a wonderful time—jumping waves, building sand castles, visiting a nature center on a rainy day.
Our last day there, I was swimming in the deep-blue water of Long Island Sound. Stanton and the girls were on the beach. It was late morning in Madison, Conn., and we were some of just the handful of tourists and locals there. The water glided over my shoulders, and when I looked ahead, I could see for miles—the open sea, endless. Since time began, human beings have been drawn to water.
“What was your favorite part of our vacation?” I asked the girls, once I came ashore.
Grace and Anna had been digging in the sand. Grace paused, considered the question. “Breakfast,” she decided.
I grabbed a towel. “Breakfast?”
“I loved breakfast at the hotel,” Grace said. “Especially the waffles.”
Stanton and I looked at each other. “Honey, we make waffles at home. What about the beach, the sand castles…”
Grace shook her head. No, definitely the hotel waffles. “That was my favorite part.”
“Me too,” Anna seconded.
Well, what do you know—the hotel waffles. (Laugh or cry?) “That’s great, girls.”
“That was my favorite part.”
Every blue moon, Stanton and I get a chance to go on a date, just the two of us. So we were out, sharing Irish nachos, drinking Shiner Bock draft (him) and red sangria (me). We’ve been each other’s date for 17 years now, and still enjoy each other’s company, which I’m deeply grateful for.
That being said…17 years is a haul. People know each other well by that point. So when, soon after our entrées arrived, Stanton said he was full and ready to head out whenever I was…I knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth.
“Honey.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You want to take off your pants, right?” (This is all G-rated, friends: I promise.) When my better half comes home at the end of the day, he immediately changes out of his dress pants into a pair of athletic shorts.
Stanton smiled. “Right.”
“Do you ever even wash those shorts?” I wondered.
“That’s the wrong question.”
I nodded, understanding. “How often do you wash them?”
Stanton nodded back. “Bingo.”
Sigh. Not often.
Laugh or cry?
We both laughed.
Life is short. Despite its imperfections, life is beautiful too. The people we get to share it with are gifts.
That’s why, when I have the choice to laugh or cry…all things considered, I usually lean toward laughter.
“I just got one last thing: I urge all of you, all of you, to enjoy your life, the precious moments you have. To spend each day with some laughter and some thought, to get your emotions going.” —Jim Valvano, 1993 ESPY speech
Photo credit: Pixabay
Like what you just read? Then check out Melissa Leddy’s newest short story, “Backtrack.” An engaging read that’s can’t-put-it-down good.