Making Memories, Not Makeovers

I flipped down the car mirror as we pulled into the aquarium parking lot, and I quickly realized I hadn’t put on a stitch of makeup.

Of course, having spent half of our vacation at the lake, I hadn’t bothered to do a thing other than brush my teeth and shower each day. Makeup was the least of my concerns.

In the chaos of packing our bags from the rental house at the lake, and trying to tidy up the place before checkout, I had only enough time to toss my cosmetic bag into the front passenger seat with good intentions to apply the contents on the hour drive to our destination. But as is the norm, my husband and I delved into deep conversation, and my good intentions went out the window.

I knew we’d take some photos, and I wanted to look nice. Presentable. Not tired and ragged, per the usual. And we were in the big city. A place where fashion matters and people put forward their best foot. But I’m a small town girl, whose grown simpler with age, so I tucked the bag back under the seat and didn’t give it a second thought until the next morning.

My children’s early years will be documented with thousands of photos, many including snapshots of their mother in her most natural state. And I won’t lie, sometimes I take little walks down photo memory lane after scrolling through Instagram and think, “Maybe I should consider investing in microblading for my eyebrows and trying out lash extensions. And maybe a little Botox wouldn’t be so bad after all. And maybe I should schedule a whitening procedure the next time I visit the dentist. Also, I wonder how well leg waxing works? And for goodness sake, why can I not remember to apply that self-tanning lotion that’s been stuffed under the sink for months?”

Because most of that stuff used to be the norm for me. From the top of my head to the bottom of my toes, everything was done. Perfectly. With the exception of my nails, but now I’ve actually got those worked out – go figure.

But I’ve come to realize that makeup or not, gym shorts or dress, baseball cap or freshly washed hair, neither changes who I am nor my role. And while my children may not be getting a very glamorous mom outside of Sunday mornings, they’re getting a present one. Sure, the bags under my eyes may not be concealed very well. And the daily cups of coffee might have dimmed my teeth a bit. And yeah, I could probably shave my legs more often or change out my chipped toenail polish regularly. But I’m there. Always. Not missing a beat. Cheering them on. Picking them up. Keeping their bellies full. Their minds educated. Their hearts encouraged. Their souls nourished. Their spirits lifted. Their little bodies safe and entertained.

And I’ve come to realize that, for this season of life, I’d rather spend my time making memories than making over myself. There will always be opportunity for that later.

Fellow momma, don’t feel guilty if you’re in the same boat. You deserve to be in the family photos and capture the memories alongside everyone else. After all, isn’t that what you’re going for? Isn’t that what you want your children to hang on to? Not what you looked like but the experiences you shared. And, hey, if you get a chance to doll up every now and then, soak it up. I certainly appreciate those moments when they come.

But it’s okay to be natural, too. To be you. To look like the woman God created. The very one your entire family loves and cherishes and wouldn’t exchange for all the beauty products in the world.