by Mary Becelia

I see them everywhere I go; after all, we go to many of the same places: mothers with two (or sometimes more) small children. And when I say small, I mean one is a toddler or a preschooler and the other one is dangling from a Baby Bjorn. And, as my almost-seven-year-old daughter skips a few feet ahead of me and my "baby"--almost-four-year-old son--tugs at my hand, eager to join his big sister, I wonder, "Was I ever, really, in her shoes?"