The other morning I was drying my hair after my shower. Isaac came to stand next to me and was rubbing his hand up and down my leg. I was silently congratulating myself on having shaved my legs AND applied lotion. (Yes, it is sad that this is such a feat, but it is what it is).
Then I noticed his hand stopped right beside my knee….he slowed down and began exploring down my calf. I knew what it was he had found.
Mommy, your leg is bumpy.
I spared him the explanation of varicose veins. I especially spared him the information that the particularly bumpy one ruptured while I was giving birth to him.
My leg is definitely bumpy, not to mention spattered with purple-y spider veins. My stomach is certainly softer than it was 4 years ago. We don’t even need to go there when we talk about the array of bra sizes I have worn in my career of motherhood. I swear my feet are wider. And yes, when I laugh really hard (or sneeze, or jump out from behind a door to scare one of the boys), I pee a little bit.
He has only ever known me with bumpy legs and wide feet, so I guess it is normal to him. He has no idea that the act of bringing him into this world heaped all of these imperfections on an already imperfect woman. And really, at 3 years old, he doesn’t need to know all of that. But when he is older, when I do explain all of this to him, I will be sure to tell him….Every bump, both the metaphorical ones and the literal ones, every one was worth it for you, precious boy.