My kids will be home early in the morning.  As usual, they will ask what I did while they were gone.  They won't see the hours I spent on the floor cutting out patterns and fiddling with new designs.  They won't see the 16+ yards of fabric that I had to stretch out in the living room to dry because it was too cold to hang it outside yesterday.  They won't see the 18+ hours I spent working as an accompanist, writer, and seamstress today alone or the rushed cleaning I did before bed so the house wouldn't swallow them alive when they walked in the door.

They'll see this:

And they'll say something nice like, "Good job, Mom.  Looks like you had a nice weekend."

Indeed.