I showed my daughter my webpage today, excited to see what she thought, and she said she'd never seen it. I've been talking about it for months now as I've been struggling to figure out the ins and outs of blogging. Me, on the other hand, could tell you to the moment what's been on her mind, what she's accomplished and why I should think it matters.
She took one look at my page and started laughing. My portrait on the header next to my book's cover was jarring to her. She pointed at the two gorgeous models in the throws of a passionate embrace, and then pointed to my picture, and said, "you look like a mother." I said, "I am a mother. I'm your mother."
Image, identity, and how it's valued was summed up in her one remark. "You look like a mother." Laughing behind her hand.
I was sitting next to her wearing jeans, a "Walden" T-shirt, sneakers, a baseball hat, no make-up, and glasses halfway down my nose. I pointed at the picture on the screen and said, "I'm not that either. Look at me." I was trying to make the point that we're not our image, we're the sum of our choices, our thoughts. She nodded and said. "Yeah. Your hair is longer."
Parenting is not easy.
I live for the HEA and am constantly striving to improve my craft. Social media is the only place I connect with my peeps, so I rely on it for feedback about writing and the writing life.