I shall call her 'Mini Me'

Having two boys is fun. There is a special bond between a mom and a son... But when it comes to adventure, the boys look to their dad. Boys... I thought. 

But now that I have a daughter, I am discovering a new world. 

A lot of Ava's learning happens through imitation. She watches us do things, and then she imitates our actions. 

Time and time again, I see her "being mommy."

Ava puts her babies to bed the same way I put my babies to bed... With a hug, a kiss, and I love you. 

When Jacob drew on Adam's door with a Sharpie, I scrubbed it clean with a Mr Clean Magic Eraser (it worked!!). Days later, Ava found a white sponge in the toy closet and set to work cleaning the door. 

As I wash my face and put on moisturizer, my little girl rubs her face and asks for "lo-shun." So I put a little in her sweet hands, and she happily rubs her cheeks. 

I put on makeup and she grunts and points to her own lips, cheeks, and eyes. I pluck my eye brows and she pretends to pluck hers. 

And it hits me. It hits me hard. With this sweet daughter who watches me ever so closely, who listens to every word I say, I have a new responsibility. I am responsible for showing her how to love others and how to love herself. 

There will come a day when someone hurts her...when someone picks on her...when someone reacts negatively to her birthmarks. 

I have to be strong and positive and embrace my physical flaws (i.e. Not talk about them) so that she can be strong and positive and trust when I say that she has no physical flaws. 

This is scary. How many times a day do I mutter about my muffin top or my chin hairs? (Too many times.) How often do I say, "I feel pretty today" or "that was a great walk, I feel so strong"?? (Not enough, if ever.)

Out in public, most little boys do not give Ava a second look. And the ones who do ask about her spots, well, they are delighted to know that they have freckles or little moles like hers. They are COOL. 

But the little girls... Oh, how they stare and their little minds churn and struggle with what they see. Because the blemishes of little girls are fussed over. Little girls are supposed to be pretty and perfect and hairless (except for their long, perfectly coifed hair, of course). Beauty is on the outside. 

But not for me. Not anymore. Beauty is more than perfection. I prefer the beauty of imperfection. The beauty of a person who walks despite the crippling effects of cerebral palsy. The beauty of the brave little girl with a giant left leg that she must drag around..and she does because nothing slows her down. 

I want my little mini me to grow up to be silly, determined, compassionate, empathetic, hard working, and brave. 

Her beauty is just the icing on the cake, the gilding of the lily. I love Ava's spots. I want her to love them too.