A woman becomes a different person when she becomes a mother, and these changes take place both inside and out. Eyes that once were bright with the possibilities of tomorrow are now weary with the cares of today. Small wrinkles have formed, fine lines that map the story of her life. Those eyes, once sharp with determination are now soft with compassion, but alert with the readiness to see hurts and give comfort. Tears come more easily, too, to these mother's eyes. Hands that once were soft and cared for are now rough from many washings, cleanings and scrubbings. The skin is rough, but the touch is gentle and kind when picking up a little one after a fall, and firm when reprimanding an errant toddler. A mother's figure is not the figure of a young girl. The hard lines of youth have softened, the waist has thickened. That softness is scorned by a culture obsessed with an unrealistic ideal, but is the perfect refuge for a tired or hurting child in need of a hug.