I hung the moon, but does it look crooked to you?

I hung the moon.

On October 2, 1982, I hung the moon.

If you don't believe me, just ask my parents.

To them, I am perfect. And I don't mean perfect as in flawless. No, they recognize my flaws...in fact, they're usually the first ones to point them out to me. But they're also the first ones to help correct them...or at least mask them.

They know that I'm a little anal sometimes. They know that I have WAY too many rules when it comes to my relationships with others. They know that I worry about everything. They know that I'm impatient. They know that I hate to fold laundry and that I get cranky when I haven't had enough sleep.

And they still think I've hung the moon...

I am the single most important thing to them. And really, they're the most important things in my life, too. I've said this before, but I'm a lucky girl. God gave me to two beautiful, smart, funny, amazing people and I want to make them proud. It's a huge driving force behind everything I do.

And really, after you've hung the moon, it's pretty hard to top it. It's darn hard to beat that, but I try. I want them to be proud of who I am and what I stand for. I want them to be able to look at me and see a job well done.

I want them to see my life and my relationships and realize that I've modeled everything in my life after my parents.

But sometimes, I wonder if that's what I'm doing. Am I making them proud? Is this where they wanted me to end up? Is this the journey they wanted me to travel?

I know that if I asked them, they'd tell me that all I've ever done is make them proud. That I'm their baby girl and they think I'm perfect.

So, yeah, I hung the moon...but does it look crooked to you?