Hollaaa! --slang for Holler...which is slang for "That's what I'm talkin bout!" ...which is the old "I know, right? All of these statements represent the whole idea of a SHOUT OUT! And for those of you who are still utilizing your ninth grade grammar books to comprise your English vocabulary...I don't know if I can help you...(now you're thinkin' WHATEV....which used to be Whatever! See, I'm trying to be compassionate here.)
In the words of my two-year-old, "Mama, I was cryin' for you!" And in similar words of my five-year-old "Where have you been, Mama?"
My answer---I honestly don't know. I think somewhere between baby number one and baby number seven I spread myself too thin but refused to let go--Thank the good Lord! These sentiments are coming from last nights experience of looking at past photos with my ten-year-old, eight-year-old, and five-year-old. Of course their stall tactics of happening upon their manila folders of themselves worked. How could I possibly resist the crooning of "Oh, look how chubby I was"? It was much more darling coming from my son viewing himself as a baby than if I were reflecting on my ample figure after giving birth to said baby. Laughing to myself at the innocent pleasure of viewing his roly-poly arms and dimpled smiles, I began to notice how few photos held my image. I knew full-well the lack of my full-bodied existence was intentional--on my prideful part. But as my son held up one professional picture wherein I was lifting him up and smiling an open-mouthed grin of selfless joy while I peered into his baby face he giggled and uttered, "Aaaaaaw!"
That said it all.
He was seeing his Mama hold and love him. He did not see the roundish arms that I could clearly recall being self-conscious about during the photographic sitting. My eight-year old's eyes scanned the photo and his grin was evidence that he was taking in every single detail as his five-year-old brother was pouting aloud, "where are my baby pictures like that?" That's a whole other story...
I just read another mother's article about "staying in the picture" and tears rolled down my cheeks as I related to her words and emotions about embarrassment over unkempt hair and drooled on shirts that led to a desire to stay out of pictures in favor of letting the "cuter subjects" be photographed. How ironic to look at these photos last evening and then have this mother, unknown to me, reach across cyber space to affirm the importance of allowing our Love to be photographed throughout the years.
Like slang, which has the ability to morph overnight, our bodies, as mothers, can dramatically shape-shift over the years-- perhaps this is our superhero "gift". Superman flew, Spiderman shot web and slung himself from towering heights, and Batman--well, he had a cool car and an awesome toolbelt (Wham!). A mother's body can stretch to accomodate a new human life and "pillow" that young life with a soft and curvy comfort to soothe away hunger, scrapes, and hurt feelings. I know there are other female superheros out there...though currentlyt I can only envision Wonder Woman in her tight corset and high-heeled boots..."WHATEV.."! I didn't have a cape on in the photo when I held up my son and smiled my love into his sweetie, kissy, lubby baby face...but I did have my Mama heart pinned on my sleeve...and all was good in his world as he viewed that seven-years later. His mama loved him then, loves him still. I think I'll go find my daughter and kiss her in front of the camera in all my mismatched sock, frizzy-haired glory--I know, right?!?
