There were many things about being a mom I never figured on.  Things that have surprised me over the last 9 years.  (I am sure there will be more to come.)  One of those things is that nothing is mine.  Not really mine.  Everything in this house -  EVERYTHING -  is fair game.  Why my children would want to play with salad tongs, when there is a room full of toys, I don't know.  But there you have it.  Eyebrow brushes are particularly fascinating.  I have bought about 6 of those guys, and I still don't have one to call my own.  They like to clomp around in my shoes - and then lose one.  Yellow dishwashing gloves are highly coveted. Those little things they put on your baseboards- to keep the door handles from slamming into the drywall?  All removed, in my house.  

So tonight I was helping my oldest daughter (9) with her homework.  Sniff, sniff. "Regan," I ask her, "What is that familiar smell I smell right now?"  

"I don't know.  Could be my lotion."  

"Your lotion?  What lotion is that?"  

"Well, it could be your lotion." 

"Where did you get it from?"  

"Oh...in your room.  In your drawer."  

"You mean the little white jar, with the gold lid?" 

The jar of $65 an ounce skin plumping cream. The jar from the Red Door Salon, that was my present to myself on my birthday.  Guaranteed to fatten out your wrinkles and perfect your skin. (Sort of) 

"Yep.  I was all itchy when I got out of the tub so I put it all over myself.  But it isn't that great.  I didn't even have enough to do all of me plus my feet."

And you know, looking closely at her, she didn't look a day over 7 and a half.

Here she is, looking very young indeed- about a week old.