When You Want the Truth, Ask a Five-Year-Old

I love my kids. They really are good for my self-esteem. For instance, I've got one who tells me a minimum of fifty times a day that I'm the best mom in the world; I've got one who will hug me, turn around to leave and then come back and hug me again; I've got one who tells me first-thing every morning how pretty he thinks I look (without following it up with, "May I play on the Wii?" so I know he's sincere!); and then there's Sawyer. Oh, sure, he's full of hugs around the neck and kisses right on the ol' kisser, but he rocks because he will always tell me the plain, unvarnished truth--and as you know, that can be quite rare as five-year-olds go.

This morning I was playing around with my various eye shadows, trying out different color combinations and whathaveyou, and the result was, for me, well . . . different. I tend to go for lighter shades, but ever since I (re)discovered Mary Kay I have branched out and added a few darker colors to my palette. And while I think the darker colors are beautiful in my compact, I am not quite used to the way they look on me.

Now I think I am pretty good at reading people's faces, and when I greeted Randy for the first time after applying my makeup and his eyes didn't widen in surprise and he didn't do a double-take, I thought perhaps I looked, you know, normal (which for me is, of course, a relative term). Next up: Tyler sauntered into the kitchen, gave me a big hug and told me how pretty I looked. Hmm: Two for two. A little while later Peyton showed up and gave me her customary hug and proceeded to talk my ears off, all the while never once looking like she didn't recognize me through all the eye shadow. Well, well.

Ditto for Darcy--No upturned eyebrows or questioning look at my appearance. Just another normal day. "Well, there you go," I said to myself. "Maybe it's all in your head. You don't look so weird after all." I even went so far as to ask Peyton, "Do I look funny to you?" "Nope, you look normal to me." (God bless her.)

Sawyer had a haircut scheduled first thing this morning so I went to his room to make sure he was getting dressed. I love face-time with him in his bedroom--he's always so chatty and comical. I sat on his floor and watched him pull his shirt on over his head, and just about the time his little eyes peeked over his collar he looked at me intently and said, "Mom, you have black eyes."

I guess "Raisin" is not my color after all!