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I’m beautiful. Elizabeth said so.


I hate to brag, but today Elizabeth told me I was beautiful.

Which was really good to hear, since I hate this fucking hair cut and I felt like a bitch for most of the day.

It was such a sweet thing to say. She often compliments me in this way. She tells me she loves me. She lavishes me with kisses and attention. She is a wonderful person, and I’m incredibly lucky to have her in my life.

But, sadly, it’s not always enough.

There are times (most days, really) when my insecurities are stronger than her devotion. I still look in the mirror and want more from what I see. I listen to my thoughts and I want them to change. Her sweet words don’t comfort me.

And that pisses me off. Because I really like and admire Elizabeth. She’s a smart girl, fun to be with, and she likes me. Wow! I should be on cloud nine.

Often I am on cloud nine. With Elizabeth and Samantha in my life, I laugh more. I sing more. I fart out loud. I dance more. Life is a joy. Their conversation cheers me. Their arguments make me smile. I hug more, and I am hugged more.

But the sad fact is, sometimes having terrific children doesn’t make you feel better about yourself or your life all the time. It didn’t for me, anyway. I thought it would, as if popping them out would magically transform me into a well-balanced and happy person. “Pop! Happy times!” Suddenly I would feel “blessed” and all my priorities would fall into their proper places.

While I certainly am blessed, I still get depressed. (Ha! I’m “blessed and depressed.” I feel a country song coming on...)

Perhaps it’s foolishness that keeps me from total happiness. Perhaps I’m holding on to old dreams. I heard a great line from the late comedian, Mitch Hedberg: "I'm sick of following my dreams. I'm just going to ask where they're going, and catch up with them later."

Maybe that’s the way it is with parenting. At some point, I need to accept my parental reality, say goodbye to old dreams, and enjoy the moment.

Or not.

Who knows. Maybe it’s just hard to believe a child who calls you “beautiful” one moment and “poo-poo pee-pee head” the next.



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