I often wonder what my children see when they look at me.
Do they see me as the cook?
The laundress?
The person who reads them stories and spends hours and hours teaching them?
How about the person who plans all the fun outings?
The face behind the camera?
Perhaps they see me as the fun mom who turns up the radio and dances around?
Maybe as the person they can tell all their secrets too.
Do they look at me and think, "I wish my hair was brown like Mommy's" as I admired my mom's golden locks?
Do they hope to wear dangly earrings like me someday?
Or maybe they look forward to the day when they can wear red high heels like Mommy's favorite pair.
Maybe they see me taking care of the boys and hope to be a Mommy just like me someday.
Or maybe it's none of the above.
Maybe it's this:
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Do they see me as the cook?
The laundress?
The person who reads them stories and spends hours and hours teaching them?
How about the person who plans all the fun outings?
The face behind the camera?
Perhaps they see me as the fun mom who turns up the radio and dances around?
Maybe as the person they can tell all their secrets too.
Do they look at me and think, "I wish my hair was brown like Mommy's" as I admired my mom's golden locks?
Do they hope to wear dangly earrings like me someday?
Or maybe they look forward to the day when they can wear red high heels like Mommy's favorite pair.
Maybe they see me taking care of the boys and hope to be a Mommy just like me someday.
Or maybe it's none of the above.
Maybe it's this:
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| "the lines show you're tired" |
AWESOME
