Category Archives: #love

Silence

I am in shock. Today I wandered aimlessly around my soul feeling, helpless, lost, traumatized and empty.

Another accepted mass shooting of innocents, when a man, who is barely an adult decided to walk into a school and snuff out 19 lives. 19 young lives who had barely started to live. 2 teachers who had given their life and lives to caring and nurturing children. GONE, in the space of minutes, seconds, moments in time. A breath and then nothing. SILENCE!

I will never understand America’s fascination and desire for guns. They are killing innocents daily! But that’s ok, as long as you have an arsenal in your basement.

I am a mother of three young boys, similar ages to the children so brutally murdered this week by just going to school. I felt sick packing them up and sending them to the place we see as safe away from home. I began to imagine life without them, about never holding them again, hearing their voices, their touch, their laughter, their voices, wiping their tears, cleaning their knees, curling around as they slept after a nightmare. My heart has shattered into a 1000 pieces, my eyes keep weeping tears, I know I would never ever recover, I too would want to stop breathing, to stop feeling the pain. Just like the crushing, unfathomable pain the parents of those 19 children, who never came home with excitement in their eyes to show artwork in their bag. Children who will never realize their full potential, who could have made this world better, brighter, happier. Now all there is are empty seats, homes all left a little darker. SILENCE

I am too broken from afar to be angry, I am devastated, shocked, distraught and perplexed how none of this creates change. Lives are expendable it seems, lesser than money, a price to pay for power and control.

BUT we must change. We must address mental health, the childcare system, and gun laws for this to stop. It has to stop, we CANNOT as living beings accept this aimless, needless brutality and death.

It is the silence that kills me, the gap that is left when a person leaves this world. please do not let these kids’ lives be in vain, let a small ounce of goodness come from this hell, let them be the catalyst for change, for kindness.

I implore you, please as you navigate this fantastical world, reach out to the quiet ones, push for change, fight for what is good, look for the lonely ones, be kind to the hurt ones, be a mentor, give back, love with all your might, know that a baby is never born evil, a society creates hate. Create a society that we can feel safe and loved in, don’t dismiss another’s pain, welcome it and hold their hand. We are the change, us, the regulars of the world. Be that change.

No more silence, it is the silence that kills.

Be kind

Love true

LOVE

I would say that this is surely the most written and sung about subject in the entire existence of humanity. “Love”, such a short word that encompasses a plethora of emotions. All of which equate to, or are, the result of being in, feeling, receiving and giving love

LOVE – even has three meanings in the dictionary

1 – an intense feeling of deep affection.

2 – a great interest and pleasure in something.

3 – a person or thing that one loves.

The topic is huge, the breakdown of emotional and physical response of the word could take me weeks to discover each delicate strand that coils around to make the rope that curls around a heart. The heart, the organ that sustains life and is continuous in its persistence to keep us alive and to experience LOVE.

There is a wealth of love types, a love of a friend, dog, parents, partner, things, nature, life.

Yet I want to talk about the purest of love, the mothers love for a child. A love physically born from you. A love that shares your DNA, a love you carried inside for 9 long months, unbeknownst at that moment to be the most powerful love of all, a love you fed from your body. It is an untarnished, unquestionable love. I sadly do not have the super powered intelligence or breadth of vocabulary to explain it, but I will try.

When I look at my child it is like two warm soft hands are grasping my heart, crushing me so hard that the air from my lungs have been ripped away by a warm, persistent current. It’s like the sun caressing me on a slightly chilly day, illuminating each cell in my body and making them vibrate in harmony. When I look at my children’s faces, hold their hands, smell their hair, feel their soft cheek against mine as they whisper “mummy I love you” love pulsates out of me and covers them in a nurturing blanket. A blanket that will always wrap around them, ensuring they know I will always love them. It is infallible, unbreakable, a titanium tower of surety that I will always be there to care, with arms and heart wide open. I am theirs and no one else’s. Yes, I love Kieron my husband deeply, but that love can change with the day, the year, the person and circumstances, it is not necessarily forever, as much as I hope it will be.

But with a child, through life and death it is there, tangible, visible, like a light flickering across water, a shooting star in the sky, a firefly dancing through a forest, it lights up all the dark corners and glows. It illuminates kindness, dreams, hopes, emotions and needs. It is powerful, constant, suffocating, it consumes all who come within its radius and breathes life into you. Once you have inhaled that love, without it you will surely drown. I would die for that love, I would place myself in front of my child and take whatever life hurls at me, I am their shield, their knight, their champion. FOREVER.

A mother’s love is the strongest of all loves

Love Kelly, A Mother of Dragons.

Blue Skies and Sunshine – The Grandmother.

Struggling to find a title to sit with this post, so you may be reading the original one or one of its many variations. I am wanting to write about your mother’s mother. The maternal grandmother, or in my case “nanny”.

My Nanny was called Joan Winifred Laffan (nee Haines) she was in her early 40s when I was born, my mother was 20, still a child herself and then there was me. A screaming infant, a month early, jaundiced, slightly deformed and due to this I almost killed my mother on the way out. Sorry mum.

In life we all have people that impact, imprint their lives on our young nubile minds. These people can be for the good or the bad, it is then up to us to how we navigate these influences. In many cases this may not be just your parents, but a grandparent, a aunt or uncle – mine was Joan aka Nanny.

The one thing you need to know more than anything is that she was my most absolute favorite person in the “whole entire world”. She was my sunshine, the gentle moon on a glistening lake, the stars, fluttering butterflies, rainbows on a drizzly day, a gentle breeze on my skin, she was my everything. Her smell, her tight hugs, her perfect beehive hair, her Teasmaid in the morning, her skin, her laugh, her twinkling eyes and her nicknames for me were magical and wondrous. She was an angel, my magical sprite, my fun-loving, kind, gentle, caring forever happy nanny. God (and I am not religious) I loved her with every single cell, fiber, heartbeat, filament that came from my child’s body. She kept me safe and loved me with such a force I never ever doubted what I was to her, I was her “Kellykins” and I miss her.

Sadly my gorgeous, glamorous cigarette holder, smoking, whiskey drinking, hardworking, jiving nanny had to leave me at age 31, just before I gave birth to Arthur and my 32nd birthday. Lung cancer stole her; even though she had given up smoking years before. It was quick and brutal! One day I was hugging her so tight, her frail shrinking body and then she was gone, a light was extinguished and the world became a little darker without her in it. Just gone, no more, no more wafts of Coco Chanel floating in the air, no more laughter, no more bone crushing, soul lifting love. Her white hair and penchant for Cornflower blue outfits, just gone! SNAP.

Almost 13 years later, I still miss her everyday. My heart just hurts when I think of her, I feel crushed and lost and I will never ever get her back. She never met my boys, and man she would have loved them more than she loved me. She adored Kieron and always said , “Oh Kelly If I were 20 years younger I would give you a run for your money on that one”! Thankfully she was not 20 years younger as I feel like I may have lost that battle 🙂

There was a beautiful connection that I had with her, that she just knew me, she didn’t want to change me, it was like we were bonded in a way I have never ever felt before. Yes, I was her favorite, I knew it, she knew it and so did everyone else, but it was a magic I had never felt before. When we were together, life just felt easy, it felt safe, it was just nanny and Kelly, we liked the same things, we had the same style, the same dreams and personality, we were just 40 years apart and life was very different for her compared to me. I was a 70s baby, she was a 30’s baby.

She gave me so many gifts that I truly could not describe, but I love the fact she gave me a style and ease / confidence in clothes that I cherish to this day, I am not scared to create feelings and stories with the way I dress. We shared a love of Chanel, fine bags and good jewelry. Joan Laffan, was seriously one of the coolest humans I have ever met and I miss her, I am not the same without her, but I know she is with me. I still on occasion can smell phantom smoke, when I am all alone and no one is around, I can look up at a Cornflower sky and feel her energy swirl round, I see her in my dreams and I can still feel her hugs and her soft sweaters on my skin.

She was my favorite and I wish she were still here.

Love Kellykins

Maze

Life is but a journey, that’s what people say.

Life is but navigating, a complicated maze.

There is a distinct beginning, and definitely an end.

Life is not a straight line, but has many curves and bends.

We climb up many mountains and fall down deep ravines.

Experience love and heart break, and all the things between .

One attempts to avoid the sadness of feeling loss and shame.

But hold it tight and accept it, the sun will grace the rain.

Without the hurt we feel no pain, but that will make us numb.

To joy, to love, to kindness and a multitude of fun.

The shadows of a high wall, where the destinations obscured.

Fate is what you create, opinions are blurred.

Life is but a journey I’ll always disagree.

Life is what you make it , to live to love , to be free.

Do not let someone tell you, you have to box it in.

Or where you should be going , or where you should begin.

Natures seeds that’s your life and that is what you’re sowing.

Only you can control the path by, living, accepting flowing .

Life is but a journey, that’s what people say.

Life is but navigating, a complicated maze.

Hey, I’m not stupid! Says the mother…..

I was listening to a podcast today and they were discussing, how no one ever recognizes raising kids, or being a carer as a full time job. That it should be celebrated, appreciated and quantified in value. Yet, I am not writing this piece from the stand point of “hey look at how hard this job is”, or how much work I do, everyday, all day and night. As a parent you also do the night shift. Check me out – I am a warrior against bad dreams and bed wetting.

What I want to share is the silent shame that seems to be woven intrinsically into being a full time mum. At age 32 I became pregnant with my first child, at the time I was a project manager for a media company. I am also a 2:1 graduate with a Sports Science Degree, and have been a top 10% student for my whole schooling career. In the past I have been a fashion buyer for department stores and Levi’s Europe, an assistant Pastry Chef, blogger and recruiter.

BUT as soon as that wiggly single sperm fertilized that big ass mama egg, I became a “mother”. On a dime I decided to give up work, and work hard at being a mum. In that single moment all my education, and my entire career just faded away. From then on, all people would see, was a disheveled woman with kids!!! With snot on her shoulder and a small, dirty handprint on her thigh. All they can see is a bearer of screaming infants, and not the intelligent being that lays dormant beneath. I basically became a walking womb! A person who could not do both, who could not parent and hold down a paid job simultaneously. DO not get me wrong I tried to do both, but I crumbled, I was up working at 5 am and starting again at 9 pm and trying to parent in between. I could not do either job well, and I was failing miserably.

Today I cried when I heard that podcast, because, I do feel like life has kind of passed me by when it comes to work. I am a 44 year old mother of 3. Seriously no one wants me, when you read the numbers. When people cast their eyes in my direction and look me up and down, I want to scream, “PLEASE see me, I am smart, I have ideas, I can create and be creative, Hey hey hey I can still do mental arithmetic in my head, go on, go on, test me.

Yet, why? Why do I feel like I need to hang my head as I mumble, yes I am a full time mum, full time care giver. Is it my own internal shame of working failure, or did society create this. “Oh you don’t work”??? What you settled into the homemaker role, what a cop out. “Dumb bitch” !!! I am not going to sit here and list all the shit I do every day. The continuous work I do as a parent of three. I hold my hand up high, yes I took the role willingly, but that does not make me unintelligent, so why do I have this driving need to make sure people know I have a brain

I will admit at times I feel so unbelievably lost. A languishing amoeba floating in a sea of meal planning, bed making, wound cleaning and ferrying small humans around. Yes I am single cell creature fighting to be more. Yet life right now just doesn’t see me, I am an aging shadow that no longer has the time to be fleshed out.

What do I want to be when I grow up? I still want to be an architect, a painter, an antiques buyer, museum curator, a historian, a writer, a sneaker designer, a run shoe tester, a gallery curator, a merchandiser…….

I still have work dreams. However, as a sit up at 2 am cradling a small frightened child on my lap, stroking his hair and telling him mummy loves him, I do know I have the right job. I was made to be a boy mum, a strong mum, a fair mum, a loving mum, a mum who will always be there….. To pick you up, take you to the dentist, to hold your hand, to take you to the zoo, to rush you to hospital, to clean a bloody knee, to make you pancakes in the morning, to bring a forgotten lunch, to see your first steps, your first smile, to hear the words mama first, to have your warm arms around my neck and your face buried in my hair, just loving you. I was made to love you.

Yes, that may not tell the world my IQ, but that makes me amazing to them, to the little people I created. It grants me the time to watch them blossom and grow, forge their own path. AND that is why I gave up work, I gave up so I could be everything to my children. AND I must stop feeling guilty about that.

That is who I am and will always be, a mama, a mother, a mum, their mom, mummy…

Love ME

BOYS BOYS BOYS

“Make sure you raise your boys right!”

OK? What does that even mean? What is exactly “right”?

To be kind / clear up their plates / not be an abuser / give to charity / not drink to excess / learn to cook a three course meal / to not touch small children inappropriately / to not be a racist / help the elderly with their shopping. Clearly “all of the above”, yes?

What exactly do you mean? Please clarify.

As a mother of three strong, independent, loving, smart, athletic, caring, sensitive, creative boys, over the years I have either read or have been told the above sentence multiple times, always from the mothers of all girls. Every time I smile with a grimace, nod my head mechanically and secretly want to come back with “well please can you do a good job with your girls” .

What you mean to say is please make sure your son, is not an alcoholic, chauvinistic, wife beating, raping , pedophile, Correct, is that what you want to say to me over coffee?

The thing that shocks me is that, in today’s modern society, apparently all men are born bad. That unbeknownst to them, my boys have been placed in a :”box” before they have even had their first wet dream, I mean who knows, blimey they could be homosexual, would that then make it all ok?

The thing that hurts most is, I am a female, and as a woman, I want to be treated equally, kindly, with love, to not be raped, abused, beaten or touched inappropriately. Like many, I have not escaped all scenarios, and I am a product of some very unfortunate moments when a man did bad things to me. So, please excuse me while I damn well make sure my beautifully caring boys are raised to treat women as their equal. I also have taught my boys, that none of the above sentence is OK to happen to them either. That none of the above is acceptable to happen to them AT ALL! They too are worthy of love, kindness, and to be treated equally. They are the good guys too.

Firstly, let me say OUT LOUD, that my husband and I love them with every part of our souls, my kids know they are loved and are worthy of unconditional love.

We are teaching them –

Everyone has feelings. That kindness above all things will get them far in the world. To love with passion. That other peoples feelings should be respected, but do not have to be taken if inappropriate. That NO means NO in all aspects, for them and for others.

We are also working on the idea women are different anatomically but equal. That women are the bearers of life and that is pretty damn magical. What is more, a small boy needs to know that his mama carried him for 9 months, she fed him from her body, she kept, and will always keep him safe. Your mama made you.

What do you mean “raise them right” ?

I AM , I do not need anyone judging my small child or me, before he has even developed his own feelings, thoughts, likes and dislikes. You have judged my son because he has a penis, because he is male. Men are not the bad guys, society is, poverty is, the government is, a failed system is. “THEY are not born EVIL” All children are born GOOD, clean, wholesome and pure. We were all children once. Please remember that.

As parents we all have a responsibility to our children to be the best parents that we can be. To nurture, support, listen to and love them. Please, stop making my boy start his life on the back foot, constantly trying to prove he is worthy of the sex he was given. He is worthy, he is human, he has feelings, he has fears, he is a child

So, in answer to this ambiguous phrase, YES he will be raised “right” because, to receive kindness, love, compassion, help, you too must give, you must listen and be listened too. As absolutely no one should ever be put in a box, and told who they are, before they have even be able to make a choice.

My boys are good and a penis doesn’t change that. Choices do.

Love “a mother of boys”

Open and Unashamed.

As always, I will start with a caveat.

I write this piece not to generate a circle of shock, sympathy, or embarrassment. I write this to be honest. To allow people to lift their heads and look away from the shame of difficult moments in time. To know that experiences no matter how terrible, hard, or heartbreaking should not be hidden. Do not conceal emotion because it might make the other person uncomfortable. Or hide beneath its cloak of darkness, as this will only shield your light, and dull your emotions.

Experiences are factual, they happened, and it is fucking OK to share what hurt, as much as what made you smile. Life does not define you, it created you, experiences educate you on how to live, about good people and bad people.  It teaches you that you are strong, and from each uncomfortable act, a flicker of kindness can be ignited. Allowing you to reach out from under the suffocating blanket of mortification.

Most of you know my story. I have always been extremely open, probably to the chagrin of many. But it is my survival tactic, once I have voiced it, it can be looked upon, analyzed and allowed to float away. I mean, It is not like I walk up on a first meeting and say…  “Hey, I am an anorexic, I have been depressed, self-harmed blah blah blah”. NO! Shit the only person I did that with was with Kieron, as I thought he was way too nice for me and could not believe he genuinely liked me. I thought I could scare him away. Instead, he told me he loved me.

Here is my list in black and white. Know I am not ashamed, yes these things can be hard, but I also know that many people have gone through the same and hold on too tightly to a guilt that is not theirs. I know many who have been through excruciating experiences and they have survived. Like all of us with baggage, they continue to live and love their lives as best they can. Especially on the days life allows that freedom from pain.

In Chronological Order: –

~At age 6 I was abused by a man in my parents’ circle – the details are not needed, my parents now know, and are heartbroken. It is no ones fault except his. It was a long time ago, and it was from that moment life started to hit me hard. It created so much pain that I have diligently had to work through. I acknowledged it in my 40s with the help of a Psychologist, and then a heavy wave of relief flooded through because everything now made sense. I am not ashamed, I was angry for long time and I cried a lot, but this was not my fault.

~Therefore, at age 9 I developed a severe eating disorder. This is why I purposely hurt my body, this is why men frightened me, this is why I was in and out of hospital, this is why I was 2 weeks from death at age 10 (malnutrition) this is why I was told to stop running, and this is why I do not like my body. But I am not ashamed, I know exactly what I am.

~I had a “Me Too” moment. As a female I know most of us have.  I am not ashamed.

~I do not like my body. I am like a spider, I have no breasts. I have learnt to understand and appreciate my body. It does not mean I think it is pretty.

~I was told when I was age 12, I could not have children. But with time, hard work (on myself) to get to a good weight, at age 30 I had my first period; yes, my first. I went on to have 3 beautiful boys. My body is now a machine to me, but it is amazing, if defied the odds, my hatred, and gave birth to life. I am not ashamed.

I lost a baby. This broke my heart and it still hurts today. It was extremely early in my pregnancy, but it hurt, it hurt so much, I felt like my body had let that sweet baby down. I am not ashamed; we do not talk about this ENOUGH as women!

I developed crippling anxiety at age 34, I had panic attacks often and they were not rational. Each day I woke up thinking I would die from a heart attack, or a meteor would wipe out the world, we would die on a plane, in a car, I struggled to do anything. The boys have seen me collapse in a ball crying, Kieron has had to listen and try to understand why I rushed myself to ER when I thought I was dying. This is where my running has helped, my anxiety improved with my discovery of abuse, this is not my fault. Medication and hard, fucking hard exercise have been a life changer. I still suffer today and that is OK.

I have been taking Prozac since I was 10 and I have seen multiple Psychologists. – I am not ashamed

I AM NOT ASHAMED, and I will NOT apologize for writing this.

This is me. I feel that people who go through this and more have something to give back. They have a light you must see, they have a light to share, they understand people, they are there to hug you hard when you hurt, to listen to you when you are sad. Because they know. They are not weird, broken, or damaged goods. It is those cracks that let you SEE THEM, to see their heart. They can help you; they can love you “right” if you let them, do not turn your back or hide, they will never judge you.

We need to talk about all these topics and more, so much more than this tiny list. People are out there being hurt, discarded, and forgotten every second of every day. Open you heart, your arms and experience and tell them – “Please do not be ashamed, I understand, and I am here for you”.

SMILE

That beautiful face creased with a grin. Oh how I miss thee oh bountiful smile (yes I love Shakespeare). Shrouded by cotton, the mask that hides a million beams. I yearn for the eye cease paired with a lip lift, a teeth glint and merriment in the pupils. I long to see a whole face with all its nooks and crannies. Cheeks I can see turn into apples with mirth. A cheek, a brow I can caress softly, if it is allowed. Those lips I could kiss, if I would choose and it welcomed. Oh if they were not so abruptly hidden from my view. The proud chin and noble nose swaddled from a worlds welcoming horizon.

The smile is what I yearn to see,

Encouraging heart ache and angst to flee.

A crinkle of nose, a crease of lip,

Can make my cold heart flip.

The lightness of the face,

When the teeth are given space .

To grin at you with such cheer,

Oh that sweet smile, how I miss you dear.

Love Kelly

The Kids are Alright!

Yes, that is a quote from “The Who”

It has been a long, yet weirdly short eight months.

Eight months ago, in a land far, far away (come on, we all love a good fairytale! No?). The Joy family ventures off merrily, on their much anticipated Spring break jaunt. Skiing. Snowmass, Colorado, here we come!

Then BOOM Coronavirus hits, as our esteemed President likes to call it “The flu from Chi – Na” (I still crack up when I hear him say this word!). We finish our week skiing – Snowmass shuts down. We spend a weekend in Boulder, restaurants shut down, we have to queue to get into Wholefoods, but then I feel like that store does love to make you feel slightly unworthy of shopping there. Toilet roll – SOLD OUT, Sanitizer – SOLD OUT, any semblance of liquid soap – bloody SOLD OUT. Finally the axe fell, schools closed their doors, and we were banished to our basements. Sitting in the gloom, bathed in the deathly glow of a subpar laptop and harangued by a wealth of teachers. Who really had no fucking idea what they were doing (no criticism intended) just stating facts.

AND there we all were festering. One overwhelmed, anxiety driven mother; I seriously thought we were all going to perish on a daily basis. A “at home” working husband who is always on an important call and then add three small dragons (boys) lost in the ether, breathing fire at us all. EEEKKK

Spring Break was looooonnggg.


Time marched on and we have had to all learn to be together and let me tell you that this is by no means easy. Ummm I like my own space, I like to not be constantly watched, asked for 30 million snacks, water, toilet roll etc etc. I do not want to be responsible for trying to keep the kids online and on top of that actually learning. All I wanted to do, was to let them swim and watch old movies, if only if it was to experience a little peace.

We had screaming matches and fist fights (kids). Blood was spilled, furniture broken, glasses smashed and usually over the minor fact that someone had tapped their fingers a little too long. We have learnt to be tolerant of each other’s annoying habits – OR NOT, mainly NOT. I spent my days trying to keep them quiet, while daddy held down a job. Then, if that was not hard enough, we decided to just pick up and move all of us from Florida to Colorado. That was clearly not easy or stress free – online schooling came in handy then.

I had to manage tiny people melt downs, from missing friends, hating the “Corona”, wanting to be at school, we have copious amounts of anger and laughter. I have been told daily that I am hated, just for enforcing a rule, which ultimately will make us all better people, or I may have just asked for a small person to help mama and empty the dishwasher. This enforced eight months in each other’s pockets has opened my eyes up to the fact, that the kids truly think I am the dumbest person in the room, that I know nothing and I have been nowhere. When in fact, beneath this dippy looking exterior of mine I am the ONLY person in the room (remember my kids are all boys of ages 11, 8 and 5) who has a upper class degree in Sports Science, was in the academic top 10% of kids at high school and travelled the world in her 20’s. But still to these three boys I know nothing. Deep breath Kelly, calm and collected… Be nice, be nice I tell you woman.

The months drag on/fly by and the kids are still home, still no school. My house looks like an elephant has stampeded through, I have mountains of washing tall enough to rival Mount Washington, I have given up on homemade food, my hair looks like a birds nest and I have aged at least 10 years. Seriously, no judgement please, or at least silently in your head.

Tick, tock, tick, tock ……. Another month trips by, summer in COVID passes, vacations are cancelled, family is missed. Yet, new adventures and friends are made.

Then on one glorious sunny Colorado day, announcements are made – THE KIDS CAN GO BACK TO SCHOOL. My heart lifts, the kids scream for joy and they are all rapidly booked for a haircut, as I am currently in possession of three very shaggy bears.

Our freedom is returning, we can all start to stretch our wings and break free from our family nucleus. As much as I have been extremely worried about the children, we have all learnt so much, yes even dumb mummy and we all know how stupid she is. 🙂 We have learnt to be –

Tolerant of each other.

To care for each other always.

That we all love to watch 1000 repeats of “Jessie” and the “Simpsons”!

That you can truly never have enough ice cream.

That the impact of an action has a profound effect on the group, good or bad.

That we genuinely love each other.

On that note my eldest (who is in school two days a week) has just come out to inform me, that there has been 340 days of Coronavirus thus far.

So, after eight months at home together we are relishing our time apart. You see, my friends do not think I am an idiot (I hope not). Everyday I am living, loving and relishing, as we all know this could all change tomorrow. With another lock down, another spike, and we are thrown back together. These eight months have also taught me that my kids are alright, I am alright. That with all that can be taken away, we can still love each other, hug, be silly, dance wildly and learn to be silent, together.

I have to admit there had been a high chance of serious injury and maiming with my crazy kids all together, but they are definitely ALRIGHT!

Love hard, live with ferocity, care for others, laugh a lot, adventure with intention, be silly, hug when you can and always, always be kind.

And you will be just fine.

Love dumb mummy. ( I think that upset me you know 🙂 )