Dear Bugaboo, From a Fluffy Mama

Dear Bugaboo,

You've been getting a lot of flack lately. Your latest ad of a stick thin model jogging around in a bikini while using your $800 stroller has caused some upset. Moms feel shamed, mocked, and just plain inadequate. I can't say I blame them (have you seen that model's stomach?). 

(Bugaboo ad)

The truth is though, while your ad may seem absurd, it is meant for a different mother than I. I am the mother of four children under four, living on one income, choosing on a daily basis whether to go to the park or get the kitchen clean. I do not have the money for your stroller--or the personal trainer that I'm sure would have to come with it for me to begin looking like that model. In fact, the only stroller I've ever purchased was $25 at Target. (Do you know what a Target is, I wonder?)

But--I don't judge the mother who CAN buy your stroller. I don't judge the mother that is able and willing to hire a maid, nanny, and personal trainer to make it possible to attain that model's body. I don't fault any mother for having those kinds of funds and using them in a way that promotes self-love, a healthy lifestyle, and (God forbid) a little mommy pampering!

I just know I will never be that mother. I will never look like that. (Though if I did, I would totally go everywhere in that bikini--grocery store, play dates, you name it!) However, I am ok with that truth. I have a word for my stomach, and it's not "tight", "six-pack", or "hard". 

It's "fluffy". 

I don't use that word to equal "fat". I have a beautiful body. I simply recognize that my stomach is softer after having four children, it is a touch wrinkly and resembles tiger stripes. And I have to admit--I love it! I love my body just as much as the mother who buys your stroller. 

(My fluffy tummy)

Perhaps the mothers who are offended by your ad have not yet learned to love their body. Maybe they are struggling to remember how beautiful they are in a world that believes we should be up and running once the baby hits the bassinet. It can be a difficult transition to go from "sexy single", to "glowing pregnant", to  "your baby is sooooo cute!" (Note that last one forgets the mother all together.) When that transition happens, it is up to us to find our self-love and new understanding of beauty...and sometimes ads like yours feel like an attack on our insecurities. 

I am proud of the mother who jogs. I am just as proud of the mother who eats Oreos at 3am while nursing her 6 month old to a sound track of Netflix movies. (And the truth is, I fully believe I may have just described the same mother in those two sentences--depending on the day!) So, by all means, sell your couture strollers and glorify the fit-focused mother. I'll do my part on this end to glorify the fluffy, not-quite-as-able-to-afford-couture mother. And I'll pray for all of us, that we realize the beauty we hold in this new role and remember to love ourselves for who we are. 

Sincerely,

A Fluffy Mama

Let Me Be Mary

I should preface this post by saying that I was not born a cradle Catholic. I became a convert at the age of 21, so the following childhood story in no way reflects any CCD classes or Catholic beliefs. Just my own child-like understanding of faith and God. Now you may read on...

When I was 11 years old, I was a very passionate little Christian. I read the Bible often, and as this was around the time when the Left Behind series was popular, I focused on Revelation quite a bit. One thing I had learned for certain was that Jesus would be coming back. I was incredibly excited for this event--you know, since I'd missed Him the first time. 

The thing is, in my childlike mind, I assumed Jesus couldn't just...show up. I mean, none of us show up fully grown! I believed this must mean He would need to be born...again. (No pun intended!) This is when I got the idea. I prayed night and day. And when I wasn't praying, I was watching my every action, word, and even thought meticulously. You see, if Jesus needed to be born, then God would need another Mary. And I was determined that He would choose me. 

Don't ask me how this idea came to me, but I wanted the opportunity to serve God the way Mary did, to give birth to someone who could change the world, to be selfless and full of love. While other girls asked God for pierced ears or a new video game, I continued day after day to beg God to realize I could be that mother. 

At some point I grew up, and someone or other explained to me how the book of Revelation was really supposed to be interpreted. I hadn't really thought much of this little anecdote from my childhood until recently. A family member posted a beautiful video of the song "Mary Did You Know" and I found myself in tears in parking lot of my work. A certain line simply took my breath away: When you kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God. 

I am now an adult, a wife, and a mother to three perfect daughters. I know without a shadow of a doubt that when I look into their eyes, I am seeing the perfection of God, and His image shines with pure love through them right back at me. 

As I sat in my car thanking God for such an incredible blessing to serve Him as a mother, it hit me--He had heard my childhood prayer and answered it. I had asked to be a mother, to be selfless and full of love, to give birth to someone who could change the world. And here I am, living out such an incredible opportunity, a miraculous blessing that so many women hope and pray for daily. My daughters can change the world. I pray I guide them with a selfless attitude and heart full of love as they grow to find ways to change it for the better. I asked God, "Let me be Mary" and God smiled upon me. 

I may not be Mary in the literal, impregnated by the Holy Spirit kind of sense. But God blessed me with the spirit of a mother and the ability to become one, and I now thank God for such a role model as Mary while I navigate the blessing of motherhood each and every day. Maybe this little revelation is a silly one, but it really warmed my heart, and I hope it did yours as well. 

God bless you.