My son took a photo of me the other day, and to my surprise—it was actually good. Not just technically decent, but warm, joyful, and somehow flattering in a way I didn’t expect. He didn’t see the batwings I fuss over or the mom pooch I try to hide. He saw me as I am to him: a cheerful, goofy, loving mom. And honestly, that’s the version I want to be. The one who laughs easily, hugs tightly, and shows up with heart. I looked at that photo and saw what he sees—and it made me feel beautiful in a whole new way.
It’s funny how kids have this unfiltered lens. They don’t notice the things we critique in the mirror. They see love, comfort, familiarity. My son sees the mom who dances in the kitchen, who makes silly voices during story time, who forgets where she put her keys but never forgets his favorite snack. That photo captured all of that. It wasn’t posed or polished—it was real. And in that realness, I found something precious. A glimpse of how I’m loved, not how I’m judged.
I’ve spent years dodging cameras, deleting unflattering angles, and wishing I looked different. But this photo shifted something. It reminded me that the people who matter most don’t care about perfection. They care about presence. My son didn’t ask me to smile a certain way or hide my arms—he just clicked the button and caught a moment. And that moment was enough. More than enough. It was a snapshot of love, plain and simple.
I showed the photo to a few friends, and they all said the same thing: “You look happy.” And I was. That’s the part I want to hold onto. Not the shape of my body or the lines on my face, but the feeling behind the smile. The joy of being seen by someone who sees the best in me. It’s a reminder that love softens the harshest self-critique. That maybe, just maybe, I can start seeing myself through his eyes more often.
So I’ve saved the photo. Not just in my phone, but in my heart. It’s a little reminder that I’m doing okay. That I’m showing up, loving hard, and being goofy enough to make memories worth capturing. I hope my son always sees me this way. And I hope I keep earning that view—not by changing how I look, but by staying true to who I am. A mom who loves deeply, laughs loudly, and occasionally rocks a messy bun like it’s a crown.
Happy Friday to all the fellow “dulligans” out there. May we all be seen the way our kids see us—full of love, light, and a little bit of silliness. And may we remember that the best portraits aren’t perfect—they’re honest.
