daughters: bane or blessing?

Well, they are a blessing, of course. God blessed me three times. That or He just likes a good laugh.

When they are young, it's pretty simple. Lots of cute clothes that you get to choose, dolls, baby buggies, pony tails and hair bows. I was always sewing or crafting something in sets of three. Now, they don't all have the same taste but if I make something for one, news travels like lightening and I had better get busy and make something for the other 2.

As they grew the estrogen began to flow around here like water over Niagara Falls. We survived the estrogen overflow and now they are all grown-up married, with one daughter each "benefit" as the mother of grown daughters is that suddenly they see themselves as the imparters of all manner of advice for me their mother. Mostly it's on the fashion front. I'll admit to being a little weak in that area. As each decade passes, I get a little fuzzier in that department, or maybe smarter. Comfort is key.

Example: A few years ago I discovered the sports bra. It was love at first wearing for me. A sports bra keeps the "girls" firmly attached to the chest-no jiggle and the straps do not fall off your shoulders. Two great features for a chest that has grown quite a bit over the years. Another plus, you can get them at Wal-Mart and they are cheap. Well, a few weeks ago I found myself in a Victoria's Secret boutique with my youngest. I haven't been in one of these stores in years. Vic. doesn't really cater to us Rubenesque types. As I waited for my daughter as she chose teeny tiny snippets of fabric that pass for panties in these places, I wandered over to the hardware/underwire bras and was surprised to see my size and even more surprised at the price. The daughter, hands full of cutesy printed bits, comes over and proclaims, "Mom, you should try one of their bras. Those sport bras are NOT a good look for you. It makes your boobs look like another fat roll." I tried to ignore the fat roll comment and hoped she would lower her voice a decibel or two as I argued that the thing was way too pricey. Finally, she talked me into it
and I left Vic's only slightly pink-faced with my little bag telling all the world
where I had been.

Once home, I tried on my new armour. Gosh, I hate when I'm wrong! No shoulder straps falling and two girls that look as though they have had a face lift.

Daughters-I think I'll keep mine. but now way will they get me in those stilettos they wear.