Documenting to remember....

I once heard Katie Couric say that her teenaged daughter gets so thoroughly irritated by her mother's, are you ready? Breathing. Breathing (!) Of all things. It makes me sad to think my sweet Jayla could grow weary of my mere drawing breath. On the contrary, I would hope she would find it rather pleasing that it meant I was still, well...alive. 

So as a precaution to be stored away in Blogville, then strategically pulled out and loaded as ammunition for my plea to return to Sweetland if needed, I've photographed this letter, written to me last week, so that one day, when she is 16 and no longer thinks her mom is anything other than completely ((embarrassing)) and horrifically ((annoying)) and she can not BUH-LEEVE this woman could have ever made it thus far in life without her daughter who knows *practically* EVERYthing guiding her along, I can show it to her and say, "Remember when you used to write me love notes, my baby girl? Back when you were happy that I was able to partake in the act respiration? Come back, sunshine, come back! I miss you! Your mother needs freedom to breathe in peace. If she ceases to do so, she will be dead. You wouldn't want that, now would you? Promptly return to the kindness of your youth. Thank you."

I trust it will work.

Plus, here is a photo of the little luv bugs, Adrian (3) and Aaron (almost 2) we get to babysit on Saturdays while their mom is working. Are they not super handsome boys? How I adore having littler ones in the house! Oh, I miss babies! So much fun. Except for the wretched colds they passed along to us which ruined our blemish free illness record for the year thus far....but we forgive them....gladly....☺