My Masterpiece

Isn't it ironic how all those things we dreamed of when we were young come bubbling to the surface in fits and starts, like a pot of porridge on the stove, when our kids start to become "of age" to do things.

We find ourselves thinking "OH! Wouldn't it be lovely if they became a famous chef?" when they want to watch you mix the "undgreedy-inch" (as my DG calls them), or "She could have a future on stage, in film!" when she comes traipsing proudly into the room decked out in her finest dress-up, proclaiming herself the Princess of the Castle, or, better yet, "Why, he could have a future in professional ball with that arm!" the singular time he actually manages a throw that reaches its intended target...

And I wonder how many of my dreams will be impressed upon my children (thank God I have 3!), and how many of them will be embraced passionately, only to be dropped like a dirty napkin as they discover themselves...

I miss those days of sitting down and spinning something onto paper, in a journal, now, typing furiously on my laptop, and coming back later that week or month and reading it over and thinking how good it was...

But some days, I look at these 3 little ones, with their sparkling eyes in varying hues of blue -the genetic gift from their dad - and their blonde hair with differing degrees of honey brown - again from their dad - and think to myself that this, this is my masterpiece.