And through the darkness that night befalls, I hear "Mommy Mia...where are you?"

I swear every day I have a moment where I just want to wring her neck. Not really. But sometimes in my mind I pretend it's an option.

Especially when I am rushing around like a mad woman trying to get everything together so we can make it to HER school to see HER friends that she loves so much, and despite all my idle threats she still stands in the living room playing with her "friends" in her PJs. Michael and Jane, pleeeeez let her get dressed today in less than 30 minutes. What does it take to motivate a three year old to WANT to get dressed? Obviously not idle threats.

Or when she tells me to "Stop talking to me like that" when I am resorting to counting "one, two, three...", fingers and all. Again with the idle threats.

Or when I'm trying to frantically pick up a few items at the grocery store and she decides to turn to me, smile, and run off down the aisle after I've explicitly asked that she stay right by my side. That devious little smile....oh, that devious smile.

Or when I'm trying to be the gentle, loving mom that cuddles her daughter down to nap, and instead of "I love you mommy, night, night" after reading countless books, I get a tantrum and a door slammed in my face.

Or when she does the pee pee dance, says "mommy I'm cold" and I gently suggest "do you need to go potty" and I get in response a resounding, "NO!" Then moments later she turns to me and says "I need to pee. I need help. Help me." As she dances off to the potty. Of course she doesn't need my help. But some days she thinks she can't do anything without my help. Talk about driving me cookoo.

Yes, these are the honest moments I call the joys of motherhood.

Everyone tells me, "Oh, she has such an old soul. She's wise beyond her years." Yes, she is. She's 3 going on 13. What do we have to look forward to at 13?

Now, I know I'm ranting all about the crappy not so fun mommy moments. And believe you me, there are a ton these days. But all it takes is for me to be downstairs, typing away on Twitter or playing on some Facebook application, and from upstairs I hear "Mommy Mia, where are you?", when I am reminded of exactly how lucky I am.

Not so long ago, I thought we'd never be blessed with bringing a child into our lives. But here we are, four years down the road from that amazing Mother's Day when a very special donor breathed life into our dream of having a family. And we have a daughter. An amazing little girl. That gives me GRIEF daily. But she is a tremendous blessing.

Since we don't know her entire genetic heritage, again due to the "donor" circumstance, we sometimes find ourselves guessing about it. She rarely has called Eric "Daddy" or "Dad". She started calling him "Daddio" all by herself as soon as she could mouth the word. And now, I'm no longer "Mommy." Which I cherished every time I heard it. It was like music to my ears. But not so long ago I heard out of the blue, "Mommy Mia, can I have a snack." Or something like that. I'm sure it was a request of some sort. My day is filled with requests. OK, I digress.

But when I heard "Mommy Mia" come out of those lips I knew. I knew that she was special. Of course I assumed she was special since the moment she was conceived. Don't we all? But after I heard "Mommy Mia" I started contemplating exactly what makes her special.

Chalk up her seemly European speak to her donor genes of Italian/French, but I think it's more than that. She is an old soul. And not just 3 going on 13.

I know she didn't it make it into our lives easily. And her conception and first 8+ months were anything but conventional. But I'm beginning to believe some of us have been around much longer than our earthly years testify. Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is some days she throws me a curve ball and I think, is she really only three? Did she really come from me?

Believe what you want about how we all land on planet earth. I'm honored she "chose" us. Or at least I'm honored she was chosen for us. All it takes on those days when I REALLY need a reminder is to hear those sweet Italian-esque words of pure love, "Mommy Mia, I love you."

"I love you too Monkey." I am lacking in Italian genes.