Iridescent Pearls

Is it true?

Is it true?

The mirror can tell so many lies. Is it really true? I reached for my glasses, and tried to find the offensive mark of time once again.

Yup, there it was. Two white hairs nestled in amongst my average brunette strands. I felt the weight of the clock bearing down on my shoulders, and my back ached as I arched to catch my best side in the looking glass.

It's hard to maintain a grasp on my youth when the hands of time keep trying to beat me down. It's okay. My soul, my spirit, refused to wear the shackles. The mirror could kiss my ..., well the sounds of chaos ricocheted off the walls.

A mother never got a moment to relax, but even my weary smile held the love those hellions evoked with their raucous energy.

I got up from my vanity, and headed down the hall. "Quiet!" It was so hard to hold in the laughter when I walked into the living room. All three froze and looked so utterly guilty it was hard to choose where to begin. The TV was blaring, both boys were wrestling for the remote, and my little girl had her hands in fists on each of their t-shirts. Yup, this is my truth.

Every mother has had more moments than she could count, where she also stands in my place. I had to bite my cheek to stop the bubbling giggle from erupting and ruining my glaring mom stare. I had them playing possum with one word. I had to maintain my ground and try to figure out why these three little Texas twisters were trying to recreate a WWE match in the middle of the l-sectional.

"Mom" the oldest whined, "Michael wants to change it and I had it first!" Simultaneously Michael began, "James always tries to push me around, I really want to change it to my show."

Their overlapping voices made me realize that James' voice had cracked, and Michael sounded convincing. When did they grow so big? Even Ashley made a face, ready to jump into any battle and come out the victor. I doubt the boys had truly noticed the iron grip she had on them.
"Quit it," I moved in stealthily, "everyone needs to let go, back up, and sit down on the couch." The remote fell to the floor and I hesitated between picking it up and stepping forward. Ashley chose that moment,

"Mommy, I want to have a picnic."
Just like that my two tough cookies melted, their four year old little sister owned them. All three looked at me from their seated positions and begged, as children do best, with their eyes and timid smiles.

James was a carbon copy of my husband, albeit with my eyes, Michael was a replica of my older brother, however with his dad's eyes, and Ashley was my mini me, also with her dad's eyes.

All three pairs of eyes emoted pure pity, silent pleas of "please mommy." I was such a sucker for a middle of the day picnic. I rolled my eyes, "Come on, munchkins." They leaped off and beat me to the kitchen, I was always five steps behind them.

My kiddos were waist deep in the fridge trying to gut it for any and all snacks worthy of picnic time. Who cares about gray hairs, when I have them? The mirror didn't see them.

C. Dougherty