princesses and castles.

As I walked out the door this morning, a sweet girl, maybe seventeen or eighteen, was with the kids and said hesitantly, but clearly, “Kelli, you are very beautiful.”

…And when you read that, be sure you have an Asian accent on beautiful, because that is really the only way to capture it.

Not a bad way to be welcomed to the world, particularly in the midst of some recent storms. I smiled and thanked her, and wished I could tell her how much her kind words and smiles mean to me.

It also made me wonder how long had she been practicing that sentence or waiting for me to come outside.

It made me wonder what they view our lives as. And, really, it made me wonder if they view me as some sort of princess: living in a sort of castle, getting all dolled up to walk out into the world with an audience receiving her and somewhere to go. Almost watching and viewing our lives as elegant or extravagant.

Which, I find all the more interesting and funny with the fact that if other circles saw our lives here, I wonder how many would be equally horrified: at how sweaty I am after my shower; at how I “do” my hair by adding gel and blow drying it halfway; that deodorant and mascara are my only key ingredients to leaving my house. That my “castle” has a squatty potty, and recently requires me to step outside to turn our water on and off.

…But my castle has walls, curtains, and a crazy machine that makes your bedroom cold.

It’s truly amazing how much perspective changes things.

I wonder what they think as they watch us: if they wonder where we go to the bathroom inside, or if they are curious why on earth I’m always sweating. Or if they understand that there is water inside of our house and a machine that keeps things cold.

For instance, when the kids open their eyes wide to cold water, discover magnets, and open our fridge with a look of surprise, its no wonder they like to sit and watch me cook or watch me hang the wet clothes that came out of the machine in the corner.  But do their parents know? Do they run home, recount what they’ve seen and have their parents explain? Or do they recount things that their parents are in awe at, too? Are the parents just as curious?

I suppose I didn’t start today thinking I lived the life of a princess in a castle, and now I’m wondering if I do.