Cover Up Those Mirrors? NO WAY!

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And that’s how it all starts... standing in the bathroom, holding my boy over the sink to wash off a sharpie-instituted tattoo on his cheek, and I look up just long enough to see myself. There, in the reflection. Her hair is mussed up, there is a smudge of mascara under her eyes from yesterday, and -- wait a minute -- why is her shirt button crooked? But behind those eyes, there’s a glimmer of the person who once dreamed the dream of being a mom someday, not realizing that her dream would give her a heart so full of love for boys she never imagined could be so sweet.

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