A while ago (and a time or two before that and I'm sure *hoping* a time or two more) at the department store a clerk couldn't believe I was my daughter's mother. I looked too young, she said. Maybe it's because I'm short. And I wear jeans and Converse sneakers with legwarmers as I have an affinity for comfy clothes that make me happy. (yeah, that's me in the pic, don't I rock?!) And I have a baby face, so I'm told. I'm pretty sure it's due to the fact I have chubbyish cheeks. In spite of all of this, I am my daughter's mother. And I'm her younger brother's stepmom as well. Now she's about to graduate from high school ( oh holy hell) You don't have to be mature or wise to have kids, you know. I'm just a dweeby kid myself, still, and I have Chesney almost grown. Soon Baby Girl and Bubby will be more mature than I am, if they aren't already. They'll be showing me the ropes, molding me into the woman I may someday be. I hope I don't let them down. I know they have high hopes for me.
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