When I look in the mirror, I almost see THIS reflection staring back at me:

or at least that's what my kids apparently see when they look at me. There are outings with the children where I feel nothing more than a glorified pack mule.

"Here, Mom, hold my jacket."

"Here, Mom, hold my drink."

"Here, Mom, take my trash."

"Here, Mom, hold my [chewed] gum."

Sometimes I wonder if the only way I'll be able to get their attention is if I kick up my hind legs and bray.