Today is my birthday. I’m 36. As my older sister would tell me, “Congratulations, you are now officially closer to 40 than you are to 30!” My cheeky response is usually something along the lines of “Age is just a number.” And it is, right?
Yesterday, Ella said to me “Mommy, are you cute?” I didn’t answer right away, so she said “Yes, you are. MOMMY YOU’RE CUTE!” at the top of her lungs. I smiled and said thank you. After she went running back outside to play with her cousins, I stopped to think about what she’d said.
This is a broad generalization, but as women, I think we are extremely critical of ourselves. We tend to look at our faces and bodies in the mirror and then proceed to pick it apart. We dread getting older. We worry about grey hair. We look at a simple compliment from our kids and instead of really accepting it, we berate ourselves for it.
Last week, I posted about fostering admiration and fondness in this post. I’m going to be so bold as to say, that the praise you are passing out to your loved ones also needs to be passed out to yourself. I’m including myself in this.
So Happy Birthday to me. Grey hair, wrinkles, cuteness and a fabulous smile, all wrapped up in my very wise 36 year old body 🙂