They're Mine... And I love it

See this group of kids right here? That's me... the short one in the pink and black stripes. And surrounding me are my children. MY children.

Am I a perfect mother? Hell no. Am I close to perfect? Not remotely. Do I love my children? With every breath I take.

I let my children run barefoot through puddles when the snow first starts really melting. Hell, I'm usually the one sitting in the puddle.

I don't let my children accept payment (at least, not all the time) when they help out a friend or neighbor or someone in need.

I don't buy my children everything they want; and I make them ask for what they do want or need, and try to teach them the difference between a want and a need.

I don't let my children go out every night to hang out with friends.

I do make sure special occasions are upheld (such as snow angels at midnight New Year's Eve/Day, and our annual Street Dance). These special occasions are times I hold dear to my own heart, and will never make plans that do not include my children.

I let my children have their room as messy as they want (as long as the dishes are brought to the kitchen... otherwise our cupboards tend to stay empty). Their rooms are their personal space... if they want to walk over heaps of clothing, that's their choice.

I let my kids steal my clothes. Even my 18 year old who was recently seen wandering around my house in a pink satin pajama top of mine. 

I let my children occasionally let a swear word escape their mouth, as long as it is in our home (or with their friends), and not around other adults.

I let them act like morons in the store, usually joining in with them throwing balls or stuffed animals at each other, or laughing when they toss multiple ridiculous things in the cart.

No. We do not have a lot of money. But we have a lot of laughter and a lot of love and a lot of selflessness. And I love it.

So please... do not take it upon yourself to buy my child (especially singling out only one) dresses, or high heels that she is too young to wear, without my permission. Do not take it upon yourself to shovel makeup onto her beautiful, perfect face, turning her into some street whore. Do not take it upon yourself to make her (or any of my children) feel like we are a poor, pathetic family.

I realize your actions may have been pure and innocent. Maybe you truly did think you were doing something nice for her (while completely ignoring her other siblings and the other 50 teenagers you guide). But you crossed a line when you claimed you were trying to bless her. She is already blessed. She is wonderfully, beautifully, perfectly blessed. It does not take new clothes or adult heels and makeup to bless someone.

Thank you... and God Bless.