Sometimes, I wonder about my skills as a mother. We all have those days - we're short with our children, or we don't feel like playing Little People for the umpteenth time, or we just run away. Those are the days that I wonder if I'm cut out for this mothering thing. I gave up a career that I was pretty damned good at. I gave up my nice, tight tummy (and my very cute belly button). I color, sing, dance, run, and play with my girls all day long. But I'm human, and sometimes I have those days where I just want to hide from them.
Then there are days like today, where I watch my oldest child and marvel at her own mothering skills. She tucks her stuffed lamb into bed and kisses her on the nose and tells her to have sweet dreams, just like I do with her. The baby who lives in the dollhouse asks her mommy for cookies, and Ava pretends to be the mommy, "Not until you eat something healthy first - I want you to grow big and strong!" Just like I tell her. She shows her sister how to color ("No Emily, the crayons go on da paper, not in or mouth! Silly baby!"). She asks me if I need any medicine when I say that my head hurts. She is already a good mother.
Here's more proof: