A Tale of Two Babies, or, The Taming of the Shrew

"Huh! I didn't take you for a skirt kind of person!" The appraising eye stopped short at my several-seasons ago button-front jeans skirt.

"Really? That's funny...." My voice trailed off at my delayed shock at the declaration made by my new friend. Not a skirt person? Huh...funny....

Once upon a time, there lived a fair maiden in a Valley called Happy. She was a maiden. She was fair. This maiden was known throughout all of Happy for her beautiful long locks of gold and fair visage. In contests she was crowned "Fairest maiden of them all." In her schooling she was evaluated for her beauty, and her beauty preceded her. She was happy, she was naive and simply vain. Her vainness became consuming. She would adorn her visage with paints, and curl those locks of gold for hours. She would not leave her humble cottage without hours of preparation in front of the mirror on the wall. Her life was consumed with painting, curling, and the Balls thrown throughout the Valley of Happy.

One day, this maiden fair met a knight so brave, with rough, unpolished armour. He was brave, but penniless. They sang the song of love, and wed in the Castle of the Lake of Salt. They were poor, but happy for years.

This maiden so fair, cut her locks of gold. They were a burden with her back, now bent from pain and childbirth. She liked her pageboy hair. It was befitting her new life. But maiden no longer, and the mirror on the wall hemmed and hahhed at her new look.

This woman, the maiden of old, new gave birth to twin babes, a knight and duchess to be. But elation grew to worry as the Knight so Brave had to go to war. The King had called for his Knights, and away he flew. The woman, the maiden of old, was bent from childbirth, and the hearth grew cold in the humble abode of the Knight. She toiled, and labored, day after day, the vainness barely a memory on her mind new present with the labors of a busy mother of three. Without her Knight, she had little time to spend at the spinner's wheel with the court, or even to go to the apothecary by herself. She toiled and labored, day in, day out. The woman, the maiden of old, grew tired, and began to weep.

"What have I of the olden days?" She cried to the dusty rafters.
"Where are my locks of gold? Where is my beauty fair? I haven't the time to seek solace at the apothecary, or even the gold enough to adorn these tired bones."
Through her tears, she looked upon the swept, rough floor, where three cherubs in human form played. There were her locks of gold! The Twin Knight had her golden hair. There was her fair visage! The Twin Duchess had beauty so great, seraphim's sighed at her porcelain visage. And before them all, stood a proud boy. He was mighty at the age of four, and upon his feet were the boots of the Knight, the husband of the woman, this maiden of old. He hobbled to his mother in those giant boots once left on the cold hearth, kissed her on the hand, and declared, "You are so beautiful, momma."

So there you have it. We may not have the beauty of yore, and perhaps we long for those days of comfort, but haste! The beauty is all around us. For that, I am glad.

Not a skirt, huh? They hang in my closet. The makeup and hairdryer may be collecting dust, but I am collecting something new. Memories and experiences with my young children that will last me more than a lifetime. I only have a short period of time with my children at this age. They will never pass this way again, nor will I. I may be tired, unadorned, but I am happy.