My daughter is the spitting image of her father. This was evident by the time she was a month old. I waited to see if her eyes would at least change over to brown like mine, but she went over to sky blue by the time she was 6 months. I was so certain that my brown eyes would cancel out her father’s, but I was wrong. (Won’t be the last time.)

My ex is a nice looking man, with green eyes and dark brown hair. Well, he was back then. I haven’t seen him for close to 10 years now, so I don’t know if time has been kind to the stupid prick or not. But my daughter is now a nice looking young woman.

Because my daughter looks nothing like me, I’m always trying to find little things that we have in common.

We both have dimples on our hands instead of knuckles.

See the dimples where my knuckles should be?

My knuckles must be in there somewhere.

She does have my smile.

We also snort when we are laughing hard at something, share the same sense of humor, both have sarcasm down to an art and love chocolate.

I sort of handed down my mental illnesses to her, which is unfortunate. (Her wonderful sense of humor will serve her well in dealing with them.)

Sometimes God gives us the right tools.

My biggest fear is that she’ll develop fibromyalgia symptoms. She’s already showing some signs, but I am praying that it’s just the vitamin D deficiency that her doctor found in her blood-work last month. Just like mine, her test results didn’t show anything seriously amiss, which is fibromyalgia’s calling card.

Like one of my best friends said, even if she does end up also having fibro, it isn’t my fault. We don’t get much say so when it comes to such things, do we?

I’m glad now that she has blue eyes instead of brown. They are the bluest eyes that I’ve ever seen.