Hopeful Homemaker

I’m wearing mostly khaki pants lately.  I’ve learned they blend best with this stage:


This is the face of a baby with a runny nose.


It’s the face of a baby who wants to run around outside with all the big kids, get her hands and face in the dirt, and feed herself a snack like the rest of them.

And it’s the face of a baby who runs to my legs and wipes her face across them at least 50 times a day, usually clutching them behind my knees with dirty fingers.


I get dressed every morning hoping that my pants will make it for an hour or two, at least.  I try, really I do.  But soon they’re broken in and I give up the fight.  After all, I do love having her run to me like this.

I’ve noticed in the past few weeks that the dirty spots are slowly getting higher, traveling up my legs to where I notice them sooner.  And it dawned on me:

I am a walking growth chart.


The thought made me laugh.  I’ve thought of many additional titles a mother can claim.  You know the standard list:  taxi driver, maid, cook, etc.  I’d never thought of “walking growth chart” before, but it fits.  And I know all too well that it will end.  I have many years of clean pants ahead of me.

So I claim it joyfully.  Three cheers for dirty pants!

Hopeful Homemaker