Lessons on Life and Love for my Daughter

Today marks the one year anniversary of the day my daughter’s father told me it was over. I have grown so much in the past year, not in spite of this loss but because of it.  I have grown as a woman, as a friend and, perhaps most importantly, as a mother.  As a mother, I have to watch my words and my actions more closely than I ever have in the past.  Because, one day, my daughter will be old enough to find those words on the internet.  And the message that is sent to her is so much more important than who was right or wrong or who gets the last word. To me, it has always been about what’s best for her, no matter how difficult that may be sometimes. There are so many lessons that I have learned over the past year that I hope to pass along to my daughter and to keep her from learning them the hard way as much as I possibly can.  What would you add to the list?

1. Don’t make snap judgements of people but do pay attention to red flags.  Your “gut” is almost always right.  If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

2. No one will ever be perfect.  Neither are you.  And people will make mistakes.  Find someone willing to admit their mistakes and, most importantly, learn from them.  Find someone willing to say “I’m sorry” and mean it from the bottom of their heart.  Find someone who is aware of their flaws and can laugh at themselves.  Always find laughter.

3. Find someone who understands the value of hard work and takes pride in their work but will always value family first.

4. Fight back when it’s important to you.  Girls are raised to be nice and not argumentative or combative.  If you don’t respect yourself, your wishes, your beliefs, no one else will either.  When something truly matters to you, fight for it.  Someone who truly loves you will respect you for that.

5. Never compromise yourself for anyone. Anyone who truly loves you will never ask you to.

6. We are all a constant work in progress.  There is always room for growth and improvement and we are all changing every day.  From our tastes in music to our ways of communicating.  The man you fall in love with today will not exist in exactly the same way tomorrow or five or ten years from now.  Fall in love with someone for their heart and their soul and find someone who loves those core values in you as well.  Our hearts do not change even if our hair falls out and we gain fifty pounds.

7. Find someone who stands by you in public no matter what.  There will always be disagreements but it’s important to maintain a united front and stick by one another.

8. Find someone who values your dreams as much as their own.

9. Find someone who treats you as their equal partner; who includes you in business decisions, home decisions, anything that impacts you as well as themselves.

10. Pregnancy and childbirth is the most rewarding but difficult part of being a woman.  Find someone who respects this miracle for what it is and respects the strain it places on you.  Find someone who will rub your feet without you asking, who will never question your hormonal anger or tears, who leaves your food alone and gets you whatever you ask for.  You want your pillow from home at the hospital?  He’ll bring back three.

11. Find someone who believes that a smile on your face is more important than if there are dishes in the sink when he gets home.

12. Watch how a man talks to his mother.  That’s how he will talk to you one day, too.

13. No matter how close you think you are to his mom, she will always take his side when it comes down to it.  That’s her son, after all.

14. A man’s actions mean more than his words.  If a man breaks his word to you once, he will do it again.

15. Never make a major life decision like moving in together, having children or getting married until you’ve had your first major fight.  It will happen.  And how you both get through that experience will teach you so much more about your relationship and your future together then the good times.

16.  No one takes selfies of their hard times.  Every couple has them.  There will be days where one, or both, of you will want to give up; you’ll want to pack your bags and never look back.  Always look at the bigger picture.

17. The kitchen is the heart of the home.  Find someone who will loves to cook with you.  And dance with you in the kitchen.

18. No matter how much you love someone, always love yourself more.  Don’t ever let anyone make you question your value.  That isn’t love.

19. Be cautious not to take people for granted and know that what you think you need to make you happy may be entirely wrong.  Don’t let someone  who truly loves you slip through your fingers because they don’t meet all of the qualifications on your checklist.  Remember to always look at the heart and soul.

20. Life truly isn’t always fair.  Being a good and loving person who truly deserves happiness and love doesn’t mean life is going to hand it to you on a silver platter.  You will get your heart broken.  But never give up hope.  Never stop believing. And I will always love you no matter what.

Struggling for Understanding

As I watch Hoarders and am given the motivation to clean up the toys that my daughter, the tornado, deposited throughout my entire apartment, I’m also struck with a painful realization.  I’m watching this episode about a woman in Hawaii, whose home is so cluttered, dirty and filled with roaches that she is at risk of having her children taken away from her.  But what strikes me so much about this isn’t the deplorable condition of her home or the risk to her children.  What strikes me is her husband, who is by her side, helping her clean up, helping her deal with the emotional and mental struggles that she is being faced with during the clean up process, who is going to counseling with her to help keep their family from ever being in that situation again.  I watch him cry for his wife and for her sickness, despite the enormous frustration that it’s caused him.  And I think, that is love.

There’s a lot I still struggle to understand about my own situation.  I have looked inside of myself and have faced the truth of my own flaws and shortcomings and looked at what I can do to try to become a better person.  I have come to terms with the disease that I was afflicted with after my child’s birth and I am proud of myself for how far I have come.  I believe that I’m strong, forgiving, loving and compassionate and I’m happy with the person I am. I’m not perfect and will continue to falter now and then.  I’m human.  I’ve made apologies to the man I love, to the father of my child, for how my disease impacted him.  And I have tried everything that I can think of to suggest to work on repairing our family.  Not just for our daughter’s sake but for us as well.  Because we deserve to have love.  Everyone does.

What I can’t understand is the unbreakable wall that I am met with.  I fell in love with a man who talked to me.  Really talked.  About feelings.  I swear, I’m not making him up.  They do exist.  I fell in love with a man who wasn’t afraid to tell me or show me how much he loved me.  He wasn’t afraid to tell or show everyone else how much he loved me, either.  He showed up at my place after a disagreement and apologized, telling me that he doesn’t ever want to let me down again.  And what I can’t understand is how there doesn’t appear to be a trace of this man left.

CC admits that he has changed.  He’s implied that I’m responsible for that change and, he’s probably right.  I said and did some unexplainable things during the first few months of my daughter’s life. For which I’ve already apologized.  There is nothing more that I can do.  I can’t take them back.  I can’t turn back time.  All I can do is say that I’m sorry.  And I’ve done this over and over again.  Despite his admitting that he is no longer that same person that I fell in love with, CC is adamant that I’m the only one who needs to change in order for us to ever be able to be together again.  When I try to talk about working towards reconciliation, I’m repeatedly told that “You haven’t changed.”  But I can’t understand how one can expect change when they’ve done nothing to help facilitate it.  We don’t talk. We make small talk about our child.  But even trying to have a conversation about her birthday turns into a battle of wills and it winds up being a fight and I wind up crying.  When nothing is done to work on improving our communication with one another, nothing will change.  I can’t understand how someone can expect change to just happen.

I can’t understand why I’m blamed for so, so much.  I can’t understand how two people can see one situation so differently.  I can’t understand how someone can put their foot down and say “I will xyz” when trying to have a conversation about our child’s best interests, instead of having a calm, rational conversation, and yet state that I’m controlling and everything always has to be my way.  I’m not the one putting my foot down.  I’m the one trying to talk things out, to find a way for everyone to be able to live with the decisions that are made.

I can’t understand how someone can truly believe that they were always there for you when they left you alone because they “couldn’t stand to be around you” and told you that you had to leave your home, saying that it was never your home to begin with and they just allowed you to be a guest there.  I can’t understand how someone can say that they are still always there for you yet they won’t go to counseling, won’t stay after putting your daughter to bed so that you can talk like adults, and when you ask for help with your child because she’s sick and you’re exhausted, they tell you no.  I can’t understand how someone can do all of these things and still believe that I’m the “bad guy” for saying that he wasn’t there for me. Being there for someone means getting on the floor with them while they’re crying and holding them. It means accepting their apologies. It means being there. Physically.

I can’t understand why I can’t win, so to speak.  I know that there are wonderful things that CC has done and continues to do.  And I have bragged about him many times.  When I was recovering from childbirth, a bad infection and a back injury all at once, I couldn’t pick my child up from her bed.  CC would bring her to me for her night feedings and then put her back to bed for me afterwards.  He changes diapers.  Gives her baths.  He would leave breakfast on my nightstand before leaving for work in the mornings because I wouldn’t eat otherwise.  He shoveled my car out of the snow for me during our recent snowstorm.  He has a good heart.  Underneath all of the hurt and anger and frustration is a wonderful man.  I can’t understand why me bringing up something that’s hurt me or that I don’t think is right seems to negate all of that to him.  It’s as if just because I think he does one thing wrong, it means everything he does is wrong.  And that simply isn’t the truth and for the life of me I can’t understand it.

I can’t understand why I’m always wrong.  What CC took away from my heartfelt post, The Day the Earth Stood Still was that he wasn’t there for me and he’s to blame for our relationship falling apart and that I love him.  And yet, I spent so much of that post talking about what I did to contribute to our relationship failing.  I took ownership of my part in all of this and I can’t for the life of me understand how nothing I said in that post could touch him in any way.

I can’t understand how someone who held my hand and cried watching the amount of pain I was in during labor could later turn around and tell me “Women give birth every day.” Like it was no big deal what I went through to give him the incredible child he loves so very much.  I can’t understand how this man who told me that I was his best friend, could truly believe that we always had a poor relationship.  I can’t understand how this man who has left work to go to the aid of a family member who suffers from seizures could not show any compassion for the challenges I faced as a result of my disease.  I can’t understand how, when I point out how much I have changed already, when I talk about how I get up and shower and get dressed every day and my home is maintained (whatever that is with a ten month old) and I’m singing and dancing and taking our daughter out somewhere every day, how he can respond to me with “that’s what human beings do.”  It’s cold.  It lacks any kind of understanding or compassion.  It’s belittling.  Because it isn’t my fault that there were times I was in the same clothes for three days straight.  It isn’t my fault that I couldn’t stay on top of a breastfeeding newborn, recovering from major surgery and a serious infection that landed me back in the hospital when my daughter was only a week old, a back injury that made caring for my daughter incredibly difficult and trying to maintain our home.  It isn’t my fault that I was sick.

It isn’t my fault that I suggested counseling several times before we actually went.  Or that, after only two sessions, CC gave up, while I kept going – alone.  It isn’t my fault that I went to the church to speak with a Deacon about the state of my family – alone. And that when I ask him to go he tells me no because “I don’t have to.”  It isn’t my fault that every thing I do to try to be pleasant with one another, to try to rekindle some spark between us is interpreted as “manipulation”.  I can’t understand how he can question my motives so very much when all I want to do is anything in the world that I can to somehow be a happy family.

I can’t understand how someone can be so admittedly unhappy.  How they could say that they do want to have their family back together but just don’t want the arguing, yet be unwilling to do anything to facilitate that happening.  It took months for us to destroy our relationship.  It will take time to fix it as well.  But if you want a family, if you want to be together, you make it happen.  You try anything you possibly can.  Because, really, what more do you have to lose?

I like my apartment, for the most part.  I could do without the noisy neighbors and unassigned parking spaces.  And the flight of stairs.  But it’s mine.  No one can tell me that it isn’t.  It’s cozy.  It’s warm.  It’s inviting.  It feels like a home.  It’s filled to the brim with toys.  And love.  I feel more at ease here then I did in his house for a long time.  Perhaps because it was his house.  At one time it didn’t feel that way, it felt like home, but that was a long time ago.  And yet, I still fell asleep every night next to the father of my child.  I kissed him goodnight every night, no matter what.  He was always there next to me for me to curl into, to put an arm around.  He was there for me to cook dinner for and to enjoy family days.  And that is greatly missing from my home.

I made a lot of mistakes.  I hurt people who I cared about.  I stopped truly showing appreciation for the good that I had.  But I stopped being appreciated as well.  I stopped being understood and loved for who I am unconditionally.  I stopped being allowed to take up residency in his heart.  And so, here I am, confused.  Lost.  Because I can’t understand how two people can want the exact same thing and yet not be able to find a way to work together towards that common goal.  I can’t understand what more I’m supposed to do.  And I can’t understand how to not feel guilty for my daughter being in the middle.

“Right now it don’t make sense I can’t make it all make sense So I’m gonna sit right here On the edge of this pier Watch the sunset disappear” ~ Luke Bryan

2014 – The Year of Smiling Even With Poop in My Pants

Well, we’re less than 24 hours into 2014 and I’m already struggling with my resolutions.  Not a very good start, I admit.  But, to be fair, I didn’t make the standard eat-better-exercise-more resolution.  While I certainly could benefit from both of those lifestyle changes, I’ve decided to focus on my emotional well-being this year instead.

2013 defeated me in a way I never thought possible.  I’ve been through a lot of hard times in my life but I have always prided myself on never breaking; I’ve always still been me at the end of it all.  But not this time.  2013 brought so much darkness, fear, betrayal and sadness into my life that I became someone I didn’t recognize anymore.  I have been changed, possibly irrevocably, in ways I never thought possible.  I’ve stopped trusting others with my heart.  I’ve stopped believing that love conquers all and that being a good person and treating others with respect will earn me the same treatment in return.  I’ve lost faith in my own ability to stay strong in my beliefs and to stand my ground in the face of adversity.  I’ve stopped believing in happy endings.  I guess 32 years is long enough to believe in fairy tales.

But, 2013 also brought me the most miraculous, wonderful gift I could ever have imagined – my daughter.  My smart, strong, determined, funny, loving, trusting and beautiful daughter. And with that, I have learned so much.  My daughter truly is teaching me so much more than I will ever be able to teach her.  And she isn’t even trying.  So, in 2014, I resolve to be more like her.

In 2014, I resolve to:

• Cry and/or yell if I need to.  And then get over it.  There are few things more traumatizing in my daughter’s day than having to get clothes put on in the morning when all she wants to do is play.  She fights me with every muscle in her body.  She screams till she’s red in the face.  She cries until she has to catch her breath and then sucks her thumb to calm herself back down.  And, eventually, she gets dressed.  And then she pushes herself up off the floor and finds her teddy bear or a toy or a book.  And all is right in the world.  She’s over it.  And she’s forgiven me immediately for the horrible injustice of putting on a clean diaper and a shirt.  Sometimes even pants.  And thirty seconds later, she’s hugging me or laughing or giving me a high-five.  Or handing me her teddy bear so I can give it kisses.  People in my life that I care about are going to hurt me sometimes.  They may even be doing it for my own good, or at least think that they are.  They may be trying to help me in a way that I don’t truly understand.  But regardless of their intentions, sometimes I’m going to get hurt.  And it’s okay for me to not just feel those emotions but to express them.  It’s okay for me to cry or get angry.  That’s being human.  And it’s healthy.  Because holding it in is what gives people ulcers or addiction issues.  But what isn’t healthy is holding onto that hurt and anger.  I need to learn to let go; to feel the pain, to express it but to move on afterwards.  I can’t control how others treat me, I can only control how I react to them.  In 2014, I resolve to not let these trying moments ruin my day.  I resolve to pick myself up off of the floor and move on.  Because there’s so much more within my grasp.
• Keep working towards my goals and give them my all, no matter how hard. In nine short months, I watched my daughter learn to babble, lift her head, roll over, sit-up, pull herself up, walk, crawl, pick up objects, throw objects, drink from a cup, eat solid foods, feed herself, give kisses, wave and so much more.  In nine. Short. Months.  And she struggled through a lot of it in the beginning.  I watch her trying to pull herself up sometimes, grunting, shaking a little, with a strong, determined look tight across her face.  And sometimes she falls.  But she never gives up.  And eventually, she gets there.  And when she does, she smiles from ear-to-ear, claps her hands and laughs.  It was worth the hard work.  The things in life that will truly make us grin from ear-to-ear, to beam with that kind of happiness from deep inside, are rarely easy.  They come from hard work and determination.  They come from not giving up.  In 2014, I resolve to find my faith again.  In love.  In humanity.  In good.  In myself.  I resolve to not give up on what’s important to me and to learn to be strong in my beliefs again, especially when it comes to my daughter and my beliefs in what’s best for her.
• Sometimes, no matter how hard I try, I won’t succeed.  Parents make this grand mistake of always telling their kids that they can do anything they want to in life if they just want it bad enough and work hard enough.  If you haven’t figured this out yet, it’s a lie.  I mean, let’s face it, I will never be Carrie Underwood.  I can sing her songs at karaoke all I want to, it doesn’t make me rich or famous or the next American Idol.  Or a gorgeous blonde.  I’ll never do a lot of things that have meant a lot to me and I’ve worked hard at.  Sometimes, that’s just life.  Failure is a part of life.  An important one to accept.  I failed at keeping my daughter’s family together.  I watched it fall apart seam by seam.  I pulled some of the threads myself.  While others, I grasped for desperately but just couldn’t catch them in time.  And I just keep fighting.  I just keep thinking that, eventually, if I want it bad enough and work hard enough, I’ll get my family back.  I’ll get her a mom and a dad to come home to.  I’ll get her family trips to the beach and camping and weekend snuggles in bed between her parents.  When the truth is, I won’t.  Just like, no matter how hard my daughter tries to reach the sparkly dangly light hanging from her ceiling, it’s not going to happen.  And so, eventually, I see her give up trying.  She lets go and moves on.  And, while I’m struggling with this one the most so far, I know that I need to resolve to let go and move on.  To accept failure.  I resolve to learn that, as long as I’ve given it my all, I haven’t truly failed.  My daughter may not be able to reach that sparkly light but she can reach the bright-colored Gerber Daisies in her basket.  And so, she lets go of the impossible and finds something else that makes her happy.  In 2014, I resolve to find my happiness.
• In life, we all fall down sometimes.  I have to trust that, when I need help, someone will be there to catch me.  If no ones there, it’s because I can handle it on my own.  My precocious little daughter has been cruising around on the furniture and holding onto my hands and her father’s hands to get her walk on for months now.  And in December, she decided to start doing it all on her own.  And, let’s face it, learning to walk is hard work.  And it’s scary.  Because you can trip and fall.  You might hurt your knee.  Or face plant.  Or bang your head on something.  I try not to hover over my child.  She’ll never learn if I do.  Sometimes, I have to let her fall and learn how to pick herself back up and keep working at it.  Sometimes, I’m not there to catch her.  (To be clear, I am always there, always watching where my daughter is and ensuring that she is safe.) If I know that she can handle the situation on her own, I’m going to let her figure it out.  Other times, I know that she needs help.  I know that she isn’t ready to do it on her own.  Like the stairs.  Or being in my bed.  And so, I’m there to “catch” her and help her get back on her feet.  2013 knocked me down.  Lower than I think I’ve been in a long time, if ever.  The only thing I could think to compare it to is when Jimi died.  And I think that this year may have actually trumped that.   And I have been fortunate enough to have some of the most unexpected people there to support me, to check in on me.  To give me a sounding board.  And I’m blessed.  But there are times I wish that I had more.  I wish that I had the love and support I thought would last forever.  I wish that I had someone to help with the day-to-day.  But I’m learning that I can do it on my own.  Even if it’s harder.  Even if it’s not ideal, I can pick myself back up and try again.  In 2014, I resolve to get back on my feet.  To be me again.

At the end of the day, I think that strength, determination, independence, these are all qualities that we all possess as children.  Without them, we’d all still be crying, pooping blobs who can’t do anything for ourselves.  But, as we grow, and face adversity, life sometimes chips away at these qualities.  Especially women.  We aren’t called strong or determined.  We’re controlling.  We aren’t independent, we’re bitchy.  And yet, these are the qualities that I have loved about myself and that I see in my little spitfire of a daughter and I hope that she never loses.  There is a saying that we should worry less about whether or not our children are listening to us and worry more that they are always watching us.  Because they are.  And they will do as we do, not as we say.  And so, if I want my daughter to continue to be strong, determined and independent, she needs a strong, independent and determined female role model.  In 2014, I resolve to be the kind of woman I will be proud to have my daughter look up to.

Adrianna, I love you more than you will ever understand.  You were once part of my body and will always be my heart.  You start every single day with a smile on your face, even if there’s poop in your pants.  Sometimes, life poops on us.  But there’s always a reason to smile.  You are my reason to smile.  You are my I love you.

Happy New Year to all of you!

To My Daughter, With Love

This has been one hell of a year. Recently, it hasn’t been in a good way. In fact, as I think about what there is to be thankful for this year, I can think of quite a few reasons not to be.

So far, the second half of 2013 has been riddled with heartache, fear, confusion, loneliness, sadness; I wonder if I’m leaving anything out. Having gone from being part of a family in a two story home to being a single mom in a two bedroom apartment isn’t exactly something to put in the Holiday Newsletter. But then, I peek into that second bedroom, where my little girl is sleeping soundly. I watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. I take a deep breath of my own, taking in her scent (and that of the diaper pail). And I’m reminded that I have everything in the world to be thankful for.

My life certainly isn’t what I expected it would be right now. But it’s still incredible. I have this amazing little girl who loves me like I’m the greatest thing in the world, a blessing I had given up hope of ever having. And, as I write this, I’m watching her on the monitor as she sleeps. And I’m at peace. Whatever other challenges or disappointments life has thrown my way (and will continue to do so – that’s life), when I look at her, everything is right in the world.

It’s so easy to look at what we don’t have. To want more. To feel we deserve more. And sometimes, we’re right. But we should never let that make us forget the blessings we do have. My daughter has opened my eyes and my heart in ways I never thought imaginable. I hope she never loses her happy and determined spirit. And I hope I’m able to teach her the value of the small things in life and of appreciating all she has.

To my daughter, with love,

I’m thankful for:

• Your incredible smile that is contagious beyond words.  Never lose that zest for life.
• Your laugh that lights up a room brighter than every star in the sky.
• The kisses you surprise me with.
• Having a successful breastfeeding relationship with you despite some early challenges.
• Being a strong enough woman, mentally, physically and emotionally, to have stuck with something that was so important to me.  I hope that I’m able to pass that trait on to you.  Never give up on something that means everything to you.  Always believe in yourself, even when it’s hard.  Especially when it’s hard.
• The way you snuggle into me while sucking your thumb when I let you watch Sesame Street.
• The way you clap your hands whenever I first turn on music.
•  A warm bed to sleep in.  Some people, even children, don’t have this.  Don’t ever take that for granted.
• Food on our table every day.  One day, I will teach you my secret sauce recipe.
• Clothes on our backs and shoes on our feet.
• Family that, though they drive me crazy, is there in a pinch to pack my moving truck. Yet again.  Your family will always be there for you, no matter what.  You can and should always come to me with anything and everything.  There is nothing you could ever do that would make your family love you any less or turn their backs on you.  That’s what being family is all about.  Being stuck like glue.
• The way you giggle when we dance to Stuck Like Glue by Sugarland 🙂  Your daddy and I once danced to that song at a concert.  You’ve always loved it.
• New days full of opportunity.  Treat every new day as a fresh start.  Leave any anger, frustration or disappointment from the day before behind you.
• Life. Messy, unpredictable, difficult but so rewarding.
• Friends who are there when it matters and the ability to accept those who fall short for who they are.  Not everyone will treat you the way that you treat them.  Accept people for who they are.
• the intelligence to know that not all who smile at you have good intentions or your best interest at heart. Pay more attention to people’s actions then their words.
• Memories of incredible love and a heart full of hope for the future. Never lose hope.
• Sunsets.
• Fluffy snow.
• Cozy blankets.
• Peppermint.
• Hot chocolate.
• Peppermint hot chocolate.
• Good books.  I hope your love of books continues as you grow.  I hope to one day share some of my favorite books with you.  And that one day, you will read to me about Gerald the Giraffe.
• My permanently distorted belly button that, while no longer perfectly adorable, reminds me that you and I were one once.  Love your body always.  It won’t be perfect but it will be beautiful.
• Photos – both having them to remember special moments and being able to take them and help others preserve their special moments.  Find something you love to do in life, that takes you away somewhere magical.  And do it.
• Healing.  We always do.  Some wounds, physical or emotional, take longer to heal than others.  Allow yourself that time.
• Our innate, incredible ability to constantly change and grow.
• That perfect pair of panties and matching bra that make you feel like you can take on the world. You will understand this many years from now.
• Drive thru windows without which, I would miss many meals.
• Autumn leaves and teaching you how they feel and how to make them crumble.
• Seasonally scented candles.
• Pandora Radio
• The way you always calm when I sing to you. No matter what.
• The feel of your hand in mine.
• Naps.  I know that you hate these right now.  One day, I promise, you will yearn for them.
• Camera phones that enable me to take endless photos and videos of you.
• Any night that involves more than a four hour stretch of sleep.
• Johnny Depp. Now and forever. One day we’ll watch Benny and Joon together.
• Bubble baths and wine.
• Long, aimless drives.
• Midgetville.
• Strong female country musicians.
• Karaoke.
• Dessert.  Sometimes its okay to eat before dinner.  Or as dinner.  But only if you learn to eat your vegetables sometimes too!
• Today. Right now.  This moment is what life is all about.  Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.  Enjoy the right now.  Make the most of every moment.  Forgive those you care about, love those who deserve it, try new things, smell the roses.  Live life to it’s fullest.  Right now.
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  Silly time with my girl ❤