It happened the other night as I rocked my littlest baby to sleep. She was drifting off to sleep and I was dozing in and out of sleep myself. Then I looked down and thought: "Whose hands are those?" And I felt dead serious. Like, what the heck happened to my hands? Maybe it was the lighting or simply my lack of sleep but I did not recognize my own hands. The wedding ring? Yes. The baby they were holding? Absolutely. But my hands looked so foreign to me. I've never had very delicate looking hands. They're small, but smooth and pretty? Not really. But now? Now they look just so.... old. And tired. And worn. When someone says parenting ages you, they are not kidding. Before we had kids this was me (fancy, I know): And now this is me: I swear it's only been 6 years. The old woman that laid dormant in me all these years is leaking out of my pores and digging crevices along my skin. There are endless bags under my eyes and I could use a good teeth...