Jumping into my car, I caught sight of myself in the rear view mirror. Both kids were buckled into their overpriced car seats and we were heading somewhere distracting during a cold Canadian winter day. I stopped a few seconds longer to study the woman I had become. Familiar blue eyes still looked back, but they were cuddled by dark shadows and tickled with both heavy and delicate lines extending from every angle. I realized I truly looked as tired as I felt that morning and sunk deeply into my seat with a sigh that mourned the shadow-less face I once knew.
These thoughts of exhaustion shining through kept nudging my mind that day, and I caught myself intentionally trying to look in windows and mirrors to see if my appearance magically transformed to one of refreshment and not one proving that I had not slept through the night in over four years. No such luck…I looked like someone working hard, I looked like a mother.
It was that evening when I closed my eyes while sipping my wine and processed the actions that deepen these lines for parents and darken our eyes.
Getting up every night to the calls of “Mumma” or “Dadda”…