Lately I have been staring at my kids wishing they were a little more like me. When comparing them to my toddler self? Complete opposites.
They are into barbies. I was into cars and trucks.
They are into pink. I was certainly not.
They are into dresses and skirts. I was into pants and shorts.
They insist on growing their hair long so they can have ponytails. I secretly cut off all of my hair in bed one night.
They are enrolled in ballerina dance and gymnastics. I was enrolled in softball, soccer, and basketball.
*Sigh*
I have two girlie girls. Where are they getting this from?
But then I get them outside on one of the most gorgeous days of the entire year and I am reminded of how much they are like me.
Dirt everywhere.
Chalk and paint covered faces.
Cars and Trucks.
Hair uncombed.
Barefoot.
Mismatched.
And it makes me feel good, all warm and fuzzy inside. These are my girls afterall and I am such a proud mama.
Until they become a little too much like me. This is the part that I didn’t bargain for. The other attributes. The one’s my mother laughs at now but was ready to beat me with a wooden spoon back then.
Bossy.
Sneaky.
Mean.
Know it All.
Miss Sassy Pants.
Stubborn.
Stubborn.
Stubborn.
Be careful what you wish for right? Come on mom, it wasn’t that bad was it?
Oy.