They managed to get out there and play in less than three minutes - so it is quite possible that they rivaled Usain Bolt speeds and that I should now start formal training for their Olympic career. Unlike previous seasonal pictures that have included climbing through brambles and teetering on the edge of a cliff, the kids didn't argue. Who wouldn't want to jump in a leaf pile? Not planned, and barely staged. The pictures are beautiful. My children looked like cherubs. Even my dogs looked what could properly be termed as "adorbs."
I wanted in on the fun. Hesitation and doubt set in. I hadn't brushed my hair or teeth and was wearing the same clothes I had slept in from the day before. No make up. No covering up the red skin, acne, wrinkles and flaws that I imagine. I was quickly running out of time, as that there are deadlines involved when you share a vehicle, so I could not go and remedy a single one of those issues. I absolutely positively didn't have enough time to suddenly loose the extra weight and neck rolls, so that I would appear stunning and gorgeous...wait...stunning and gorgeous - while rolling around in damp leaves?
My children see me every day. They see me in the morning when I have drool on my pillow (yes I drool, and I snore) and my hair is frayed in a clown-like fashion. They see frantic and frenzied while trying to get more accomplished than is possible (or necessary). They see me sleepy and exhausted in the evening as I kiss them and send them up to bed. They see me, and think I am beautiful. They see me bare, raw, and who I am (like, for reals). They deserve to have pictures to remember me as they have seen me. Not me as I want the world to see me. The dress-up pretend me. So even though my hair hung in my face like a sheep dog, and we did not catch a single picture where everyone looked at the camera, and my lovely Songbird refused flat to join in, they are beautiful.
You look happy.That is what is important
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