Did you happen to read the popular article, “The Mom Stays in the Picture,” by mom Allison Tate at The Huffington Post? It’s a really touching post about how important it is that moms—no matter that they may be wearing maternity clothes a few months postpartum or routinely skip mascara and lipstick—get in the pictures with their children. It’s important that our kids look back on photos and see their moms living real life with them.
Did you happen to read the popular article, “The Mom Stays in the Picture,” by mom Allison Tate at The Huffington Post? It’s a really touching post about how important it is that moms—no matter that they may be wearing maternity clothes a few months postpartum or routinely skip mascara and lipstick—get in the pictures with their children. It’s important that our kids look back on photos and see their moms living real life with them.
Allison’s post got me thinking about my own patients—the kids I’ve heard from during more than twenty-five years of practicing medicine—and I know Allison’s right. If we moms asked our kids, they’d tell us to get in the picture.
Every mother needs to hear from her kids because what they say about their moms is a far cry from what we believe they need from us. I decided to take my patients’ words and use them to create a letter from eight-year-old “Josh” to his mom.
Dear Mom,
I hear you talking about going on a diet, but please don’t. I don’t get why you don’t want to eat lasagna with me and Dad. I wish you would because I like it when we eat the same thing. Eating lasagna together makes me feel like I’m a grown-up like you. Eat stuff, Mom, because you’re nicer to hug when you’re squishy.
I also love it when you let me come in your room at night. Dad hates it, I know. That’s why I crawl on the floor to your side of the bed. I hope he doesn’t hear me. But I want to thank you for letting me crawl in the bed next to you or for putting a sleeping bag under your side of the bed. And the pillow, too.
Our house just seems so big sometimes, and I get scared. It’s hard for me to go to sleep when I’m so far away from you. I know that you and Dad work hard to get us such a big house, but sometimes I wish you wouldn’t. I wish that you could be with me more and not work so hard. If you work too hard you might die and I really, really don’t want that. Every time my teacher reads a story about someone dying or what heaven’s like I get worried about you Mom. So please don’t die soon.
The other thing is, Mom, that I hear you talking to Lisa and tell her that you are sad a lot. Am I bad? I don’t like you sad either because then I feel all shaky on the inside. But since I’m a guy like Dad, I don’t want anyone to know. I’m not supposed to feel shaky inside. So please don’t be sad, Mom. I love you.
