My mom is an attractive woman and a fashionista.
We went to Seattle a few weeks ago and stayed with her. (Self-flagellators can see photos here.)
I wear the same size clothing that my mom wears for the first time in my life and while we were at her house I stood in her fashion-filled walk-in closet thinking,
“Damn. I should move to Seattle.”
[Realistically though, my mom would probably never let me borrow anything since my two toddlers think I am their own personal napkin. Have a snotty nose? Dirty hands? Wipe it on MOMMY!” Gah! My biggest motherhood pet peeve!]
Anyway, my mom wakes up every morning, showers, puts on make-up and gets dressed in a hip ensemble.
She is almost always completely put together.
Staying at her house, there were a few mornings where she came out into the living room to play with The Mayor and The Rooster after her shower, but before donning her make up and outfit.
I realized that I almost never see my mother without make-up.
In one of these rare make-up-less moments, I looked at my mom's face and was amazed to recognize so many women that came before us.
She didn’t notice that I was staring at her, but I was. Generations of women stared back – my grandmother, my great grandmother, my great, great grandmother…