Have you ever been to a circus fun house? Or stood in front of a wavy mirror? When I was a teenager I had a full length mirror in my room that never got hung up so it stood angled against the floor and the wall making it concave – which did a world of good for my self-esteem! No, really. Fun house mirrors alter our reflection by bending the reflective material: concave (or bending in) makes the reflection longer and narrower (hence the self-esteem spike:) ) and convex (or bulging out) make things shorter and wider. There is a reason why department stores don’t have fun house mirrors in their dressing rooms, unless they were all concave… There’s an idea…

Anyway…

The other day I was nursing my sweet Lady Bug just before she went down for the night. It was later in the evening. Mister and Tudders were already in bed. The house was quiet. The day was done. It’s typically is a bonding time. It’s a time to interact without distraction, to slowly sink peacefully into that half-sleep of relaxation, to stare at her beautiful face. I looked into her beautiful blue eyes and saw my reflection. Fortunately it was a very small reflection, unfortunately it was big enough to discourage me. I saw in her eyes a lovely double chin – evidence left from growing a human three separate times. I saw disheveled hair that hadn’t been done, let alone washed for more days than I’d like to confess. Okay, five. Five days. I barely saw my eyes, my tired, naked eyes, and I wanted to cry.

I looked into my daughter’s eyes and I was devastated.

I felt all the failures come to the surface. The sink full of dishes, the baskets of laundry, the TV-babysitter, the uncompleted commitments, the missed work-outs, the dirty bathrooms, the sticky floors, the short temper, the words from frustration, the impatience with little hands and short strides. The list goes on. It all bubbled to the surface and my eyes filled with the hot tears of devastating failure.

And then my sweet little Lady looked up at me and smiled. Her eyes lit up. Her kissable cheeks plumped. Her little button nose wrinkled in joy and all of a sudden I realized I was seeing myself incorrectly.

I needed to see myself through her eyes, not reflected in them.

I was, literally, seeing myself reflected convex-ly and she was seeing me concave-ly. I saw the “short, wide mother,” where she saw the “elongated, narrow mom”.

She saw her giggle-maker, her spit-bubble buddy, her tickle monster, her tummy-time pal. She saw her comforter, her nurturer, her support, her safety. Maybe, through her eyes, I wasn’t a complete disaster as a mom. I started to think of my boys. How do they see me? What do I look like through their eyes? I’m their car mechanic, fixing hot wheels tires and scuffed paint jobs with tape. I’m their tailor, rolling waistbands and using safety pins for belts. I’m their chef who can reach the cereal on the top shelf. I’m the engineer who, with a little patience, can put together a 45 piece spiderman puzzle. I’m the electrician who changes light bulbs and makes sure night lights are on and working. I’m the baseball pitcher, the under-dog pusher, the down-the-slide catcher, the monkey bar helper, bug examiner, owie mender, tear wiper, hug-and-kiss-ready cuddler.

All of a sudden I’m not a dismal  mother! I’m not quite mother-of-the-year, but I haven’t completely let them down either. Looking at things through a child’s eyes always gives us a better outlook. Look at the rainy dreary weather, and see instead puddles and streams for splashing and sailing. Look at your garden full of waist high weeds, and see instead a jungle waiting to be explored. Look at a floor covered with the leftovers of the day and see instead hours of fun and imagination. Look at baskets full of clothes waiting to be folded and see a game of matching socks galore! Look at the second- (or third- or fourth-) hand couch and see instead cushions sturdy enough for forts and as soft as clouds.

When we look in someone’s eyes and see ourselves reflected, we really only see us again. We see ourselves in the same way we always see ourselves, with our bumps and lumps, our shortcomings and weaknesses. But if we can see ourselves through someone’s eyes, chances are we will see something far more satisfying and quite possibly extraordinary.