Like any normal mom, I sometimes get frustrated, tired, sad, lonely, or maybe a bit cookey. But then I walk down the hall toward the front door and stop to look at this picture hanging on the wall. It reminds me of how much has changed, how much I have grown with my daughter, and why I shouldn't lose it. These little hands remind me of my duty as her mother. I see them again as I put her to bed and notice how different they are, but still so small. 2.3 years of lifes experiences. 2.3 years of learning how to be a mom. They remind me why I love what I do.
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