The following happened this past Sunday:

I hear my name being called from a distance, “Mommy!!!! Mommy!!!”

“Are you OK?” I respond.

“MOMMY!!! Help me! Come quick!!!!”

Just then, hubby turns over, just happening to bump me as he turns over. I awaken, heart pounding, partially because of being bumped suddenly and partially because I am distressed by B’s cries. I realize I’ve been hearing B’s real cries in my sleep. Hubby is awake but pretending to be asleep and hoping that his little “bump” will wake me up enough to go deal with her. It’s still sort of dark outside, so I turn over to see what time it is.

Ugh…4:45AM…on a Sunday. I look over at hubby who is fake snoring.

“I know you’re pretending to be asleep…” I grumble as I hoist my legs out of bed. I “accidentally” bump his butt as I get out of bed. He stifles a chuckle.

As I go inside B’s room, I find her sitting up, sobbing.

“I had a bad dream…” she cries.

“Do you want to come into Mommy’s bed?”

She pauses, not sure what to answer. Coming into our bed while it’s ‘still nighttime’ is unheard of (we do not allow it at all) but for some reason, I decide to offer it up to her; perhaps to torture my sleeping husband, perhaps because I want to sleep more, but mainly because I want to snuggle a little bit. She eagerly accepts, inviting every stuffed animal that she can fit into her arms to join the party.

As we settle into my bed, I tell her that if she fools around, I am sending her back to her room.

“Aww-wight, Mommy…” she says as she positions herself in between me and Daddy. I slowly drift off to sleep (without my pillow, as she’s stolen that).

About two hours later, I am awoken again by something tickling my face.

“Stop! Don’t bother me!” I grumble without opening my eyes, thinking it’s my husband getting frisky, as I had forgotten that she was in bed with me.

“Sowwy, Mommy.” I open my eyes to find her tracing my eyes and nose, narrating her observations: Mommy has dark eyebrows. Mommy’s eyes look like a cookie-moon (crescent moon, in their world). Mommy has red lips…

“B…GO TO SLEEP!” my husband grumbles at her.

“But Daddy…”

“No, ‘but Daddy’ – it’s sleeping time!”

“I’m not tired, Daddy.”

“Then go back to your room…”

“But I want to look at Mommy…because she is the most beautiful Mommy in the world. She is more beautiful than my friends’ mommies.”

I smile and pull her closer and tell her it’s ok…she can stay, but to whisper.

“OK, Mommy…” she whispers as quietly as she is capable of whispering (which in reality is a low talking voice).



“I hope that I am beautiful like you when I grow up.”

“You’re more beautiful, Baby Girl.”

“I want to be the best, most beautiful Mommy when I get older, just like you.”

“Thank you, Baby.”



“I hope I don’t have a mustache like you do…”

Hubby laughs from his side of the bed.

“Go to sleep, B…” I respond as she snuggles in closely, and I kiss the top of her sweaty head.

All of this was a reminder to me that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. My girl doesn’t notice the things that I get hung up on – my belly, my butt, my flat nose, my short legs. In her eyes, I am the most beautiful Mommy whom she wants to grow up to look like…with the obvious exception of my “mustache.” To her, I am the Perfect Mommy.

(Last week, I mentioned that I will be posting some information about how to expose your children to music – that will be published at my next scheduled post.)