fraud

I have a new song stuck in my head... "I am a fraud. A big, fat fraud."

I felt this way when the crazy nurses let me bring a six pound baby Logan home from the hospital.

I felt this way when Logan started kindergarten.

And I feel this way now that Logan and Madison are entering their tween years. 

During the day I pretend I am a mother of small children. When 4:00 p.m. rolls around I am a mother of children who need to wear deodorant. Children who don't need me to help with their homework anymore--well, I don't have to sit down with them, anyway. Children who are figuring out how to navigate through their school-issued computers and the Internet...maybe better than I can. Children who can be so incredibly helpful and kind one minute, and angry and door-slamming the next. 

So I'm going to keep on playing house. Sure--I've got this! No problem!  I'll keep feeding them and taking them places. I'll listen to them talk, and then I'll pretend to have valuable advice. One of these days I might actually know what I'm doing. 

Lucky Ammon.