That Little Suit

No, no, no…it can’t be! It’s that time of year already? I am not prepared! It has arrived to soon…I need more time! P-l-e-a-s-e, not yet.

Could it be that my daughters are out of school—looking for the next adventure and asking the endless “What next Mom?” Maybe it’s the extra gray hairs from scrambling to find another camp or vacation bible study for their entertainment and my survival. Maybe it’s the lyrics, “let me entertain you…” as I attempt to comb through various community event schedules to fill our days with some low cost fun. Maybe it is the summer art box that we have already plowed through with the paint and glitter etched on the kitchen table and patio to prove it. Entertain to stay sane…

Maybe it is the family vacations. The vacations that are full of beauty and promise until a child gets sick, the family begins bickering and the wallet and tolerance gauge are on “E”. Travel and unravel…

These are tough, but there is something even more difficult. It is something I dread, avoid, delay and downright dread each summer.

It begins in late spring when the catalogs begin arriving. I begin thumbing through and bending the pages of the ones that I consider a maybe. Wincing, I quickly by-pass the pages of the certainly not and then stare longingly at the ones I label the “I wish”. And finally, I come across a page of the “used to be”.

The “used to be” me was a size 6 or 8 that longed for the hot summer and an even hotter bikini. The body was toned and it was bronzed usually via the local tanning beds. Searching for that little suit was a fun girl’s outing. It was exciting!

And now? I am not that 6 or 8. I don’t tolerate the heat as well and I am seeking something between the look of the juniors and the Sag Harbor department. Some areas are still toned, while others need to be lifted up, held in and miraculously hidden! And bronzing? The areas that are bronzed are the ones that I can easily reach with my self tanner! And of course, I go it alone! After all, I’ll pass on anyone seeing me in the up close mirrors, 2x2 dressing rooms with yellowish overhead lighting-without a tan!

So each and every summer, the hunt begins. The summer that my oldest daughter was one, I went for the 100% Mom bathing suit. (You know the look, so I will let you imagine the bathing suit!) My darling husband with his usual sense of humor laughed and said, “You’re not ready for that yet.” “Maybe you’re not.” I laughingly replied. I wore that suit that summer never feeling quite right in it.

Another summer, I tried the flowered tankini. I liked the flowers and after several yanks and tugs, I decided it offered enough coverage and looked a bit less “Momish”. My oldest caught sight of this one and laughed about the great big flowers on it. During that summer, I wondered if the flowers were a bit too much and I never felt quite right in it either.

Several summers ago, I thought I had found the perfect suit until I saw the pictures of me in it. There’s the bikini top and skirt combo--a good look except I have to tie the top fairly tight around my neck for support! (Who needs to breathe anyway?) And let’s not forget, the loose tankini top with the short skirt in the orange and brown! Oh, the stress from this little suit!
I just never seem to get it right!

And then it happened. Our family was enjoying a bright, fun-filled day at a local beach and I saw it. I saw her. She walked the beach with a sunny smile and bucket of confidence. She left the cover-up behind. She didn’t need it. It was a bold yellow bikini-one that you had to notice. She was tanned and she was beautiful…and she had to be in her upper 60’s. I watched her as she strolled by and as she faded into the crowd as she made her way down the shore line. And then, I began to reflect.

Motherhood has changed my body, my heart, my mind and my soul. When you become a Mom, your heart gets larger to take in more love and joy than you could have ever imagined or believed existed. Your mind expands for all the filing space needed to ensure that every need from big to small is met with great detail, care and concern. And the soul has quadrupled to be able to protect and care for our children, families, friends, people in need, the Earth and environment, animals, schools and other causes-all selflessly.

And, so too, our physical appearances have been altered by Motherhood. This one, by far, being the most difficult to understand and accept. I t is often how we judge ourselves and feel measured by others.

Our physical change represents something even bigger than self perception, age ---or gravity. Maybe, just maybe, our external badge of Motherhood symbolizes the amazing and beautiful changes and growth we have experienced on the inside.

So, the woman in the little yellow suit had it right. It is not what you wear, but how you choose to wear it. All these years, I had it so wrong. It’s not that the suit that wasn’t right, it was really about how I felt about me. I have been so worried about my exterior changes that I haven’t bothered to celebrate the interior ones.

Change is cause for a celebration! So, this year I’ll try out the bikini—maybe even a bold, bright yellow one. And I will wear it proudly with a huge grin and a new confidence...because I treasure who, what and where I am on this journey of Motherhood…battle scars and all! It is the new me on the outside and in…and you can’t have one without the other.

Several years ago, I sat with the Kleenex clutched in my hand tears streaming down my cheeks as a pastor’s wife read aloud a letter she had received from her daughter on Mother’s Day. The daughter, now away at college, expressed that she now understood. She now understood and appreciated the endless rules, boundaries, adventures, questions, spankings, support and the importance of her Mom just being there.

I have long forgotten the exact wording of this letter, but I have never forgotten the emotional impact of the letter on me and the other Moms that day. I dream of receiving a hand written letter like that someday from my daughters on Mother’s Day. The accolades aren’t important. The gratitude is secondary. It is the understanding that I most seek.

So, I started thinking. What would I hope they would say? And so, I decided to write it. I needed to write it to make sure I am living it-a resource, guide and a reminder to me as a Mom. So here it is.

Dear Mom,

I remember how you were teaching me to swim and you kept secretly backing up. The first day of school that you wiped my tears and nudged me into my classroom-and hid around the corner to make sure I was okay (I knew you were there.). There was the day after a break up you insisted that I go to school. I recall the time you steadfastly refused to bring me my lunch after I had forgotten it for the fourth time.

I laugh as I remember the time my bucket full of frogs spilled out in the night and you made me catch every single one. There was the week I wanted to quit track and you insisted that I finish the season. That Spring when I was ready to ditch my dance date for “Mr. It” and you wouldn’t let me. The times I wanted to stay out just as late as some others and you said no. I remember that my rather small clothing budget didn’t allow for $60 t-shirts.

I laugh as I recall the times you placed a stuffed crab in our pants-and your own- when we were grumpy. The times you said “I am sorry” when you lost your temper. I can still see the steps you made us sit on while holding hands and saying, “Sisters forever. Sisters forever. Sisters forever. “after a fight.

You placed the computer in the kitchen, asked all those never ending questions about my friends and insisted on taking down the information of those driving me. Making me leave notes about where I was going, when I would be home and who I was with. Making me invite Suzy over when no one else liked her.

There was the punishment for arriving two minutes after curfew. There were the many thank you notes you insisted that I write. We were constantly reminded of the yes ma’ms and no sirs to adults all while looking them in the eye when speaking. You seemed to know just when I was hesitating to tell the truth and you would assure me that telling the truth is often less painful in the end than telling a lie. Making me apologize to the neighbor for picking all of her flowers and insisting on restitution-raking her entire yard. Making me cut blades of grass in the heat with scissors when you knew I had a hangover.

I remember those “boring” Saturdays where we cleaned other’s yards or delivered meals. There were the holidays you required us to shorten our lists to give bikes to other children. There was the time we bought that extra sandwich for the homeless man outside the restaurant. You insisting that part of our allowance be placed in the offering plate—and another 10% to savings. The relief I felt when you picked me and my friends up late that night with no questions asked.


Bugging me to always take a coat, have some cash on hand and to always travel with water. Dragging me to church and insisting that I go to youth group-no excuses. You encouraged me to speak up and out in family discussions, but that you and Dad had the final say. For not talking to my coach when you knew he was being unfair. For encouraging my friends to always come over to our house. You chaperoned dances and overnights and worked the high school snack stand all so you could know just what was going on in my school.. You would often pause to hear my phone conversations.

There were those fun lunches and shopping trips-where we laughed a lot and you bought very little. The times we sat alone at the table over a piece of cake pondering my heartache. I remember all the cookies we baked and crafts we made-and the laughter in between. You placed notes of inspiration in my backpack. I treasure those many shopping hours for the perfect prom dress. I remember you going with me the time I had trash detail for a punishment.

You were in the front row on awards day and in the bleachers for my sporting events. Sometimes when I asked for your advice, you offered it and sometimes you posed the hard questions back to me. Sometimes you said a great deal and others you remained silent.

For the many times, that while Dad was away, that you played both Mom and Dad. All the “Daddy” notes you helped us write and for the Daddy boxes we filled while he was away. Placing our thumbs together and yelling “team work” as we tackled yard and house work together. For encouraging us to miss him, but to also know, appreciate and understand the importance of what he was doing. For drying our tears and for making us laugh…and for the crazy adventures you dared to lead even when he wasn’t home.

There were your many dates with Dad-when you left us with a sitter. The times we asked which of us you loved the most and you would reply, “Dad comes in first-with the two of you tying for a very close second.” I remember the many notes of yours and ours that you tucked in Dad’s suitcases when he was heading out for a trip. You insisted that we hug and kiss Dad when he left for a trip-even though we didn’t want to. And then you held us while we cried when he left.

Mom, I now know it wasn’t easy. We often weren’t easy! But now I know…I really know.

All these things were for us. It wasn’t just your words. It was your actions. You rarely missed a moment to teach us something-big or small. You were and are the greatest teacher I have ever had.

You insisted we really love our family, friends and even complete strangers. Even when we were at our worst, we felt and knew we were loved-and that you believed in us. And when something great happened-you were the first we wanted to share it with.

You’ve been right there for me through it all. Moms offer a special kind of love like no other…now I understand.

I really love you Mom. Happy Mother’s Day!


Happy Mother’s Day! Take the time to listen to the song titled, A Mother’s Day, by Jim Brickman on his album Simple Things. And have your Kleenex handy….