I adore being a mom.
many reasons which, if I went into elaborate detail here, would simply be preaching to the choir.
The sweet hugs, the toothless grins yada yada yada.
one thing I **ADORE** that I did NOT see coming? the gift of the It Must Be For Her Daughter.
Unlike some of my fellow bloggers (and not to my pride & joy) Ive always been kind of a disheveled person (my kind husband calls it my style).
Never dirty--pre-toddler, anyway--but just kind of always to the left of coiffed/properly buttoned.
Now? if I run into people at the grocery and look a FRIGHT they assume my daughter, E., must have not allowed me ample time to "do" myself.
(never what happened. Id have rolled the exact same way before having her)
Now? if I run into people at the grocery sporting a big (rub on) tattoo of a pirate on my bicep they smile benevolently at me and (wrongfully) assume I did it for my daughter.
Now? if I buy 3 tutus at the dollar store, layer them on top of each other & wear THAT on top of capri tights they (again, wrongfully) assume Im such a good "sport" playing dress-up with my girl.
Ill spare you the over the knee socks rendition but just know it follows the same pattern.
Man, I love being a mother.
I could do without the chicken nugget mashed INTO my tutu but it all comes along with the toddler bundle of joy.
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2 comments:
Oh you must post pictures of your tighted and tutu'd self! Love!!
Funny stuff, Miss C.
You know, I've had that same feeling, but not the sense to articulate it into conscious thought.
Hooray for pint size excuses to shamelessly be ourselves!
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