Can it already be 3 years since I brought you home, stared in your huge blue eyes and wondered who you'd become, what I would give to you, how badly I'd mess you up?

Happy Birthday to my curse, a mini-me who already knows how to say f-you with just a look. A mini-me who says no and shows no remorce for her mistakes. A mini-me who dances, rocks and sings whenever she gets the chance. A mini-me who I will try and not squash into a mold of a good girl, always doing the right thing. I'll be ok with whoever you want to be.


I know you will be successful, you have the family gene. You have a history of great women to learn from, to teach you. It is a blessing and curse. The gene scare me, the way it makes us women in our family, I'll try to remember during the teen years - I already am dreading the fights.

I dreamed of being president, I promise to let you dream whatever you want.

I am scared of what your future will look like - sex, boys, rape, war, cancer, death, looks education - all of it. I'll try not to shelter you into a false reality, I promise to teach you to be safe without pasing on my neurosis.

Still only 3, but it feels like 13 and 23, are just around the corner, I want it to go slow, yet am anxious to see what you become.

I am blessed.