We colored together while her brother napped. You could say my picture was superior, but they could never really be compared. For hers evoked passion and dedication. A masterpiece that came only from hour after hour of hard work, until the former scribbles finally took their form.
So much like motherhood. As we all attempt to analyze our little “drawings,” judging technicals and who stayed in the lines the best. But the journeys can never really be compared, can they? Each so different, so full of its own stories and passions. Of trying and failing and trying again. Some splashing along the lines, others jumping straight outside the box. And yet, all finding their unity in one: love.
Just a bunch of unqualified and yet so in love mothers, each just taking it one day at a time, learning through the messy scribbles of life. You may never be Michael Angelo, but your picture is beautiful, momma. So very, very beautiful. Don’t let anyone ever try to tell you otherwise.