The most beautiful teacher on the face of the earth

She had long auburn hair that fell into soft curls down her back, soft chocolate eyes like those of a doe, cheery freckles sprinkled daintily across the bridge of the perfect fairy like nose and knees that bent easily as she lowered herself to our level so we could speak face to face. She was an angel, a princess, a superstar in my 7 year old world.

I was slouched at my desk, arms folded, staring intently out the window as the other children's answers snaked towards me. "Pilot. Doctor. Firefighter." My stomach tightened as my turn came closer. "Nurse. Artist. Teacher." It slithered to a halt in front of me.

"A mom. I want to be a mom." My face flushed a hot shade of red. There. I'd said it. And then Mrs. Rash's goddess like face broke into a delightfully warm smile . . .

When I received the job offer it seemed like a no brainer. Working at the school with the special needs children? Perfect. And getting paid for it? An added bonus. I'd be enjoying the same hours and holidays as my children, I'd be able to get my resume up and running after 14 long years and I'd even have a little extra spending money to boot. So I accepted.

But was I done being a daytime mom just because my youngest was leaving for school? I thought and discussed and struggled and prayed and I'll share with you my very personalized, tailored for me and my family answer: my children are only young once. I want to take on the challenge of being an involved mother by signing up for field trips and class parties. I want to volunteer to be a "reading mother" and serve on the PTA board and take my kids out on lunch dates. I want to play nurse when they're sick and therapist when they're struggling. I want to plan healthy meals and clean out drawers and closets and have a yummy snack waiting for them when they walk in the door. So I declined. And it feels really good for now.

"A mom."