January 2010
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  • Ava: I be the mama and you be the baby. Me: Ok, what do I do? Ava: Go night-night. Me: What do you do? Ava: Take pictures. 2010-09-29
  • Ava: I want a tattoo right here. (pointing to upper arm). Mama: What do you want it to say? Ava: Mama is my best friend. Mama: Awwwwww! 2010-07-25
  • Mama to Ava: Don't lick people. It's gross. 2010-07-18
  • Me: "Ava, can you please stop trying to drive me crazy?" Ava: "No, I want to." Me: Argh! 2010-07-18
  • Ava says, "it's raining, it's pouring." She's right. Makes for unpleasant driving... 2010-07-17
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Archive for January 26th, 2010

We tell her this a lot. Oftentimes it’s said immediately following a hairstyling session in order to encourage her to actually keep the hard fought hairbows in place for more than 15 minutes, but I’ve been known (often) to spout it out at seemingly random moments simply because she IS so pretty (understatement). I do try to also tell her she’s so smart, so kind, so sweet, so everything because I don’t want her turning into a narcissistic teen (oh wait, they all do anyway I think) who is focused only on appearance…but I’m pretty much guilty as charged of repeatedly telling her how beautiful she is.

Did I mention she’s turned into quite the little mimic? I kind of get it now why people own parrots because it’s uber cool when any little creature (bird or kid) starts talking even if they are just ‘parrot’ing your lines back to you.

Did I also mention that she hasn’t quite grasped the concept of inside and outside voice?

Which means that when she tells me (and everyone close by) that I’m so pretty at 130 dB (minimum) while shopping at WalMa*rt I can’t really decide whether to melt into the floor due to embarrassment or because she’s so sweet that I just dissolve into a sappy puddle of momness. Especially since the WalMa*rt visit in question was immediately following my first post-op appointment and I was definitely not looking my best. No matter how I tried to shush her she would reach up and touch my cheeks and tell me (and others) again and again that “you so pretty, Mama.” J loved it, of course, and refused to help me distract her.

Now I’ll be the first to admit that I’m no raving beauty. In fact, I mostly got by with cute for a number of years which is (I think) code for you’re young, petite, and have cool hair but you’re not exactly traditionally pretty. I’m now old(er), have graying hair, am 20 pounds heavier than I want to be and I dress for comfort (read dressing for comfort as slobbish) any chance I get…but in my daughter’s eyes I am pretty and that’s more than enough for me.