I MADE this.

So I'm a proud person. I'm glad when I produce something that I like. I'm working on invitations - real ones - that someone is paying me for. A commissioned piece of work. It's no painting, but I'm liking the idea. Get money from people that like what you make.
I also like it when I put together a halfway decent outfit for the day; you know thOse days. Those days when you spend an extra amount of time ironing and getting the right shoes and you're hair is absolutely perfect. And then someone says you have a sense of style. I'm not one to hide my enthusiasm. In fact, I never understand those who try to act like they're not totally flattered by thOse comments.
And of course when my daughter has the most rockin' party of the year because I mAde the invitations, and the pinata, and the caterpillar cake that took 5 hours, and gave her the new Olivia book when no one else realizes just hOw important that is.
I made that little 4-year girl who is now 3'7," who can read and write and now practices the art of manipulation. I just figured out that she tells me "Sorry, mom," not because she's really sorry for something she did wrong, but instead uses the phrase to keep me from reprimanding her. She inherited my hair and my attitude, and I'm the happiest ever.