What We See


I’m curious what it is you see,
When you look up at your mom,
I’m curious what you see in me,
If maybe what I see is wrong.


I’m curious what it is you see,
When we lay down for bed,
I’m curious what you see in me,
If it’s different than you said.


‘Cause when I take a glace at me,
A mess of hair upon my head,
I look too long occasionally,
And it seems I judge instead.


I see the bags beneath my eyes,
The hair that’s out of place,
I see the make up, never done,
I see a tired face.


Oh motherhood, the world of messy buns and half finished make up. Feeling pretty isn’t exactly one of the benefits that come along with raising children. The mornings become more about everyone eating and brushing their teeth instead of hair and makeup. I wouldn’t trade morning cartoons for all the style in the world but sometimes I find it hard to believe anyone actually finds me beautiful. Maybe beauty really is in the eye of the beholder…

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