But that's not how she spoils me.
She makes dinner. She won't let me touch a dish. She scoops up laundry before it hits the floor. She loves my kids. She reads them stories and sits on the floor to see what they're drawing or playing on the laptop. She saves magazines she thinks I'll like. She makes me coffee in the morning. She listens to my stories. She cries when I go.
I suppose you could say, she mothers me.