TheLifeandTimesofaMom

Life and Times of a Mommy(:

Hey Momma,

We sure did have a rough go of it, didn’t we? When I tell people that, I’m sure they thing we had the normal mother/teenage daughter relationship. Boy, where they wrong!! No offense, but you kinda lost your mind when you turned 40. It started a little before then, but man, at 40, it got bad. I don’t know if you were trying to rebel again, or what, but woman, you was cah-ray-zeee!!!!!

And when we stopped talking for those 6 months, it was rough. But you needed some tough love. To be honest, the only reason I fixed things was because I didn’t want things to be awkward at Memaw’s during Kase’s baby shower. I never told her we stopped talking. I didn’t want to upset her. She hoped you would come to your senses one day. I think you did a little bit after that.

You know, the toughest part about this, is I can’t call you and say “hey mom guess who I talked to” or “guess who/what I saw!” I especially can’t tell you all the family gossip and who all came to see you. That really sucks. On the plus side though, I got to be you for a change. I got to have some great bonding time with Robin and Amanda on Easter. I got to talk and gossip like an adult! Without having to talk over you.

Mommy, you know I love you. You know I would never do anything to hurt you. When I stopped talking to you, that was for the both of us. So I could learn to be an adult and so could you. When I moved back home with Dad, that was so I could do all the things that you told me I could do all the things you told me I could. Not to abandon you. So when I write these next words, I hope you can understand my reasoning behind it. I hope you will support my decision. It’s for the best, please know that.

In a few months, when everyone is ready, I will go to your mother’s and get what I want of yours. But after that, I will no longer see or speak to your mother or Todd. The only thing keeping me tied to her, Todd, and his family was you. I know she’s had a rough life, but you and I both know she hasn’t liked me for about 9 years now. And I really hope you saw how she treated me while I was there last week. I have never been anything but nice to that woman. She will no longer be part of my family. My children will not know her. Please understand why I’m doing this momma.

I’m really glad I got to talk to you and hear your voice one last time. Mommy, I love you and I miss you. I can’t believe your gone. But I know you were ready. Say hi to everyone for me. Be with me, always.

Love,

Your Baby Girl

 

P.S. For a little more info on whats going on, go here.

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 Be sure to check out everything else that’s going on at YeahWrite!! There some pretty awesome things!!

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Goodbye for now

No not you, my lovely followers. I will explain what is going on in a minute. First, I want to tell you guys that this post will be an emotional one. You might cry. I will probably be crying along with you. I apologize ahead of time for making you cry. But can I make one thing clear? What I’m about to share, I’ve accepted whole heartedly. Please do not say your sorry. Because to be honest I don’t know how react or what to say, other than thank you. And I don’t feel like that’s adequate enough for the situation. But I am ok with cyber hugs!

About a month ago, my mother had her first stroke. The carotid artery on the left side was 80% blocked. The doctors could leave the blockage alone and she would definitely have another stroke. If they went in and cleared the blockage, there was a chance she would have another stroke. So, they went ahead with the surgery. A side effect of the surgery was headaches because her brain wasn’t used to getting that much blood. No big deal, she dealt with headaches before.

Friday, April 18, she had a headache so bad it made her throw up. So, she went to lay down and take a nap. After that, she was never really responsive. She was taken to the hospital at 5:30 that afternoon. At that point I was on my way to church for an Easter service. We were on the bike, so I didn’t feel my phone vibrate. When we got to the church, I had missed calls and voicemails from my mom’s husband (techinically fiancé because they weren’t married yet). He said that my mom was back in the hospital. I couldn’t do anything from three hours away and didn’t have the gas to rush down there. So we went to the service. My grandpa called me as I was walking out the doors at 9. In a shaky voice, he told me that I needed to get to Little Rock as soon as possible. I knew why, but for some odd reason, I needed to hear it. My mother wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t responsive at all. She was in the emergency room but they would be moving her to ICU soon. At the word ICU, I almost collapsed in the parking lot.

Ladies and gents, that was the fastest ride on that bike I have ever been on. It was a little scary. Mostly because I kept fogging up the visor of my helmet trying not to cry. I had called my dad before we got on the bike and my dad told me exactly what I needed to hear to get me through the next five days. He told me “you need to cowboy up“. Which is his way of saying “get ready, things are about to get really f***ing rough”. (He knows first hand having lost a parent himself, but that’s another story.) So we got home, packed in about 10 minutes, and hightailed it to the state capitol.

We got to the hospital at about midnight. When we walked in my grandfather sat me down in the front entrance to explain to me what had happened with my mother. She had had another stroke earlier in the day. When she got to the hospital, a surgeon said that they could remove part of her skull to relieve the pressure on her brain and remove part of the bleed in her brain. This would give her a 50/50 chance. While trying to decide if they were going to do the surgery, she had another stroke. At this point, if she survived, she would never be able to talk again. The mother that I had talked to the day before was no longer there. She would have to do months of rehab and live in a nursing home the rest of her life, which would have pissed her off to no end. When I went back to see her, she was on a ventilator to keep her from choking on anything. She was also on numerous fluids and antibiotics.

At about 2:30 that morning, we left the hospital to get a few hours of sleep. My few, I mean 3. Maybe. That morning we ran a test to see if there was any brain function what so ever. We wanted to be extremely sure there was nothing there before we made any decisions. We didn’t want to second guess ourselves. At 12:20 Saturday, April 19, 2014, two days after my 22nd birthday and one day after my oldest son’s 4th birthday, my mother was pronounced brain dead. After that, it was up to the doctor on how to proceed. There was nothing more we could to. We would have 24 to 36 hours to day our goodbyes before a place called Aurora took over. Aurora would be the people in charge of donating her organs and tissues.

At 22 years old, 6 days after my birthday, I buried my mother. To everyone, I was strong and on top of everything. To my husband, I was coping until I was alone with him and could break down. I’m not a public crier. I had my break downs in the privacy of my car with my husband. I handled the funeral arrangements, shopping for an outfit for the funeral, doing my mother’s hair and make up so that she looked like my mother, and the funeral with surprising strength. My husband and family are extremely proud of me. I am extremely proud of myself.

I will always miss my mommy. I will always morn her loss. Our relationship might not have been the best, but she is still my mommy and I love her. Today, it’s rough. Little things keep setting me off. Saturday it was the word sinew. Today, it was a Rhode Island license plate. I’m hoping that eventually it will get easier. I’m sure it will always hurt, I’m sure I will always miss her. I know I will always lover her.

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Four Years…

This was taken on Easter. That is mine and my little brother's hand over my belly. This was the weekend before I had him

This was taken on Easter. That is mine and my little brother’s hand over my belly. This was the weekend before I had him

April 18th, 2010 started out like any other Sunday morning. I was 36 weeks pregnant and as big as a house. I mean ginormous. I woke up, got dressed in the comfiest dress I owned, and went to church with my parents. After church, my step mom and I went to Taco Bell. I told her that I was having some weird crampy pains in my stomach. They didn’t really hurt, they were just kind of annoying. “Oh,” she said, “I bet it’s the Taco Bell acting up. I bet Trey doesn’t like it.” So off we went to my baby shower.

The shower was at my best friends house. Sadly, she was at work. But my other best friend was nice enough to show. So there I was sitting there on my best friend’s mom’s prized leather couch. Everyone was getting there food and drinks and party favors. They were all women from my step mom’s Sunday school class, so they were also discussing the sermon and class from earlier. The presents were scattered haphazardly around me waiting to be opened. I glanced over at my best friend and whispered, “you know it would really suck if my water broke right now…”

“WHAT?!?! Your water just broke!?!” My best friend practically shrieked across the room. She was, and still to this day, not the master of subtly, or quietness. My eyes got really big and went to shush her aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand then I felt it. A little trickle that kinda felt like I peed myself. Every one’s heads jerked in my direction. I’m pretty sure I heard a couple of necks crack from the sheer force they were cranked at. My step mom rushed me off to the bathroom to check and make sure everything was ok. I sat there on the toilet for a few seconds and she poked her head in the bathroom, caught a glimpse of my undies and said “Yup. It broke.”

The hostess gave me a pair of clean, dry panties and a pad. I slid them on and walked back into the living room to hear my step mom say something about finishing with the presents before we went to the hospital. (We were literally like 5 or 6 minutes away from the hospital.) So. I finished opening my presents, picked what I wanted to take to the hospital with me, packed everything up, and left. On the way, I called my dad and told him to pack a bag for me with my green plaid pants with the pink ribbon tie, a couple t shirts and some undies because we were going to the hospital just in case.

This is my little man at a few weeks old layin' on his Nanna

This is my little man at a few weeks old layin’ on his Nanna

About 8 hours, an almost fight in the delivery room, a small scare with my little man facing the wrong way, and a lovely discussion about who was going to win which category on the CMAs later, my little bundle of joy was finally here. Born at 7 pounds, 9 ounces and 20 inches long, my little man was finally here. He was gorgeous. He was so sweet. He was all mine. He made me feel whole.

Good Friday, April 18th, 2014, that little bundle of joy, my little man, will be four years old. He is growing up on me so fast. Next year he will be starting Kindergarten. He can use the potty by himself, completely and totally. He doesn’t need Mommy to dress him (even though I still do). He doesn’t need help eating anymore. He doesn’t cuddle anymore, too much energy for that. His laugh has changed from that cute baby giggle to that cute little kid laugh. It seems like yesterday he was my little baby. Now he really is growing up into a great little man. For four years, I’ve watched him grow and become this awesome little person. I cannot wait to see what the rest of the future has in store for me. He can be a handful, but he will always be my baby, my little man.

 

This is my little man on his first day of school. Look how grown up he looks.

This is my little man on his first day of school. Look how grown up he looks.

 

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This a little late, but my computer and I had issues!

June 29, 2012, afternoon. I convinced my husband to take me to the hospital because I was having some pretty intense irregular contractions. So, off we went. I was soon admitted with pre-term labor. I spent a week in the hospital. The first night was the worst.
They pumped this stuff in me called magnesium citrate to stop the contractions. I don’t take IVs well in the first place. So first they gave me morphine for pain and phenagren for the nausea caused be morphine. With my arm on fire from that, they then gave me the magnesium citrate. It felt like I was on fire from one wrist, up my arm, across my chest, and down my other arm. I then proceeded to hold a plastic barf bag up to my face and tried not to dry heave. And of course, since I was in pain, I held my breath. Which made my blood oxygen levels plummet and the blood pressure cuff go crazy. Then (going to get a little TMI here for a minute) they felt a need to insert a catheter, after I repeatedly told them no, because I didn’t have to pee. After removing it, I screamed and cried and whimpered and tried to not to cut off the circulation in my husband’s hand for about 30 minutes. My step mom, who was my rock through this whole ordeal, was in Texas. My parents cut their vacation short and drove 6 hours to come be with me. By that time, the pain in everything but my arm had stopped. I was poked and prodded every four hours the first twenty-four hours, because of the magnesium. Then, I thought I was having contractions yet again, and they took my food away. Who in their right mind takes food away from a pregnant woman?! Did they want to die?! But, anyways.
After that I was in the hospital every weekend for a month, with no changes. Just irregular contractions. One time, a doctor told me that I could stay over night in the labor and delivery room I was in, if I really wanted to. I said no, wanting to sleep in my own bed.

Friday, July 13, 2012, 9 pm. (Of course it was the 13th. Just my luck right?!) My husband and I had just left the dollar movie theater after watching What to Expect When You Are Expecting. (Guys. If you haven’t seen this movie, I suggest you watch it ASAP. It’s a great movie!!) When we got in the car, I started having some uncomfortable contractions, but they weren’t regular enough for me to time. We got home and I went to lay down. Within about 30 minutes I was in tears from the pain. It wasn’t that it hurt really bad, it was uncomfortable and I didn’t really know what was going on. I’d spent a week, and every weekend for a month, in the hospital with no change. By this point I was beyond frustrated. I consulted this wonderful site, and they said to wait it out. I went against their directions and about 11:30 pm, I woke my husband up and back to the hospital we went.

My baby and his feeding tube.

My baby and his feeding tube.

Saturday, July 14, 2012, 5:30 am. My little baby boy decided to grace us with his presence. After almost ripping a nurses face off so that I could push, I finally got to meet the little boy who insisted on coming to join this crazy world earlier than he should have. They had gave me a shot for his lungs a month before so he was breathing just fine. Eating, however, wasn’t going so well. He had a tube in his nose most of the time he was in the hospital, and he was in the hospital for a week. That was the hardest thing in the world to watch. A nurse told me that we could only stay two nights in a room off the nursery. So, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday night, hubby and I drove literally 10 minutes away to our town house to sleep as much as we could through crying, just to get up the next morning and drive another 10 minutes back to the hospital. Friday, a doctor (my favorite one by the way) told us that he didn’t care what anyone said, we could stay as long as he was there. The next day he went home.

His smash cake. The box was like four times bigger than the actual cake. So we were all surprised when the cake was like three inches tall and the box was like a foot tall!

His smash cake. The box was like four times bigger than the actual cake.

Sunday, July 14, 2013, 2:00 pm. My little man’s first birthday!!! Now, this birthday party. It couldn’t be easy, ya know, since it was the first. Something HAD to go wrong. A week before the party, I moved it from Saturday to Sunday because my mother in law had a float trip on Saturday. She had already spent money on the float trip, meaning she had already bought the alcohol for the float trip. So, not very many people showed up to the party. But we still had fun! However, I ended up wearing more cake than little man did!

After he smeared cake all over his face. Yes, he looks like he ate a smurf.

After he smeared cake all over his face. Yes, he looks like he ate a smurf.

Then he got done and stuck his pacy in his mouth.

Then he got done and stuck his pacy in his mouth.

After he got done playing in the cake, he had a bath and went outside with my in-laws. A few of my friends who came to the birthday stayed inside with me. I went to the bathroom and came out and had what was left of the smash cake thrown at me. I then proceeded to scream bloody murder because my friend’s wife scared the ever-loving crap out of me. The cake landed face up on the tile floor, so, of course, I grabbed and took off after her. And a cake fight ensued. After the cake fight ended and it was all cleaned up, my in-laws left and I noticed some cake sitting on the high chair still. My friend’s wife had her son laying on her, so we asked hubby to go around the corner to get her some potato salad. (Hubby was yet to be wearing any cake.) So I hid around the corner and attempted to smash cake in his face. I somewhat got him. But, I mostly just got potato salad smashed in my hair. Sadly, I do not have a picture of that. Potato salad smells horrible to me and it was all I could do not to get sick waiting to get into the bathroom to wash it out. But, I do have a picture of me wearing the cake!! So here ya go, laugh it up!! I sure did!!

The girl on the left is my friend's wife and I'm on the right. Obviously, I lost the cake fight. I was laughing way to hard to really fight back.

The girl on the left is my friend’s wife and I’m on the right. Obviously, I lost the cake fight. I was laughing way to hard to really fight back.

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A Little Bit Nostalogic Today

I can’t help it. My baby will be one in 29 days!!! He is getting so big!! When he was first born his daddy could hold him with one hand!! He could barely fit in newborn clothes. And his car seat!! He was practically swimming in it!! Now, he’s almost conquered crawling and just tried to pull himself up on my table!! (He kid of slid on his butt farther underneath the table and then fell over, rather than getting up.)

My little man!!

My little man!!

Kase, pronounced like case, Daniel Ferguson was born July 14, 2012. He was born at 35 weeks and had to have a feeding tube inserted into his nose because he wasn’t eating. After spending a week in the hospital with pre-term labor, having my food taken away, and being in and out of the hospital for a month, I had to spend another week in the hospital with my baby. Thankfully they gave me a steroid shot while I was in pre-term labor to increase his lung production, so he was breathing perfectly fine. He was actually quiet compared to his brother. Key word there, was.

This was the day he came home from the hopital. He was so tiny!!

This was the day he came home from the hospital. He was so tiny!!

Now, he is spoiled rotten. He slept in bed with mommy and daddy for six months. Then, mommy got tired of sleeping in uncomfortable positions. So mommy put him in his own bed. He still falls asleep on my dear hubby’s chest every night, and he’s held a lot more than he should be. But his giggle is the most contagious thing ever. And, when he’s in his walker and he drops something, watching him walk in circles trying to figure out how to get it is rather humorous.He’s a cuddly little ball of fun, most of the time. Not to mention that he has curly hair just like his daddy. So, when he wakes up the back of his hair, which is the longest part, is a mass of curls poking out everywhere.

I look at my oldest and remember his first birthday like it was yesterday. I know Kase’s will be the same way. I’m so excited to watch him attempt to eat cake and figure out what the hell his mommy put in front of him. He has his two bottom teeth but his top two have just barely poked out from his gums, so he hasn’t really been introduced to very many solid foods. So hopefully he will be able to eat it. We are still deciding on the theme. Actually, I haven’t even began to debate what I want to do. His party is 28 days aways, so I guess I better hurry up and decide!! The party is going to be at my house so I’m not sure how crazy I want to go with decorations and what not. I will be sure to try to remember to take pictures and post them!!

Supporting his daddy's favorite football team.

Supporting his daddy’s favorite football team. (His bib says “everything tastes better when we order take out.)

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Day Seven

Day Seven. This may be my favoritest post yet in this challenge. Today’s truth is someone who has made your life worth living. There are many people that bring joy to my life. There are many people who I love dearly and can’t imagine them not being in my life. But there is one person, actually one little boy, who means more than word can describe to me. That would be my three year old son, Trey.

You guys have heard a little about what happened here, but not the full story. Just that his dad left me and I was all set to be a single mom when he came back and it just was craziness. Well. There is more to the story. You guys also know that I have depression and anxiety. What you don’t know is that when not on medicine, I get pretty down.

When his daddy broke up with me the first time, I balled my eyes out and asked God to give him back to me. I cried so hard that my dad, who didn’t trust me with medicines for obvious reasons, had to give me Dramamine so I could calm down enough to sleep. When he walked out the second time, the same thing happened. I cried and begged God to give him back to me. Little did I know, that feeling of abandonment and hopelessness would only get worse.

After I moved out of his apartment, we didn’t talk about anything but my amazing little boy. But then, right after he turned one, we decided to try and work it out again for him. Stupid me, thought it would work. Our relationship quickly faded back into what it was. Then one night I was up long after everyone was asleep. (I was living with my then best friend and there were some people over.) I asked him something, I don’t even remember what now. I can’t remember what he said either, I just know it crushed me. That night was the first night I seriously considered hurting myself.

But, as I sat in the dark living room, by myself, I thought about the baby asleep just on the other side of the wall. I thought about the way his face lit up when he saw me, him taking his first steps, him saying his first word, and all the milestones I would miss if I were to do anything. The love I would miss out on if I left my amazing little boy.

Every time I get down or have a really bad day, I go home and I cuddle my baby. The baby that will never understand just how much mom loves him and how much mommy needs him. This three year old, bouncing, frustrating, loving, exasperating, amazing little boy definitely made my life worth living.

This is my little man on his nanna's horse, Carlos, wearing his uncle's hat. His poppy is leading the horse around but you can't see him. My step mom cropped him out.

This is my little man on his nanna’s horse, Carlos, wearing his uncle’s hat. His poppy is leading the horse around but you can’t see him. My step mom cropped him out.

 

 

 

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Moments

The challenge this week is to write about a moment that identifies us. One that has stuck with us. whether its from this morning or from years ago.

I’ve spent a good three days thinking about that moment. I’ve started, erased, started again, and trashed many beginnings. I’ve even gotten ha;f way though a couple. The problem is picking a moment and putting it into words. Taking a snapshot of life and describing the feelings, the emotions, the intensity of that moment. So that every body understand is. And doing it in 60 words or less.

There are so many moments in my life it’s hard to pick just one. (And you guys already know about my most defining one. The one where I almost redecorated the inside of my dad’s truck and then told him what was going on.) So, I thought I would do an overview of a few moments that stand out in my mind.

March/April, 2000. My great grandmother had just passed away, and it was up to the family to go through her things and decide what to do with them. I was seeing parts of her I never knew about.

September, 2000. I walked into a hospital room and was greeted with “hey baby!”. This was the first time in 5 years or so the my great grandmother remembered me. She passed away three days later.

February, 2001. My great grandfather left this world to join the love of his life on the most fitting of days, Valentines Day. His best friend and companion, his fog Buster, laid next to him for hours until a friend came to visit and found him.

Med-end, 2005. I laid to rest, the last thing that connected me to my beloved great grandparents: their dog Buster.

Summer, 2009. I went to summer school and met a boy. That boy was already taken so he introduced me to his friend. We started dating.

September, 2009; New Years Eve. 2009; August, 2010. The times that boy left me. (Obviously April 2010 is in there, as that’s when I had my son.)

April, 2011. In a smoke filled hooka lounge, some people randomly sat across a table from us because there was nowhere else to sit. That is the night that I met my husband. He didn’t say much, as he is shy, but we realized we knew each other when we met again on a dating website.

These are just a few of the moments that stand out in my mind. Some are obvious;y happier than others. I should have learned a lesson from some of them. In their own way, each moment defines me. Each moment tells you a little something about me. They all say something different. Some mean more than others, some hurt more than others, and some are happier than others.

Everyone would handle each of these moments in a different way. Me? I choose to use them to make me stronger. When most people would be broken down, I use them to build me up. To remind me what I have been through and what I can handle. Especially on those days that try to break me.

Moments. They can change your life and do one of two things, make you or break you. It’s all up to you.

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This One’s for the Girls

When I was 11 a song called “This One’s for the Girls” by Martina McBride came out. (Yes, I know what you are all thinking, “Ewww country!!” But bear with me for a minute.) The song simply talks to us girls. That’s it. And yeah I know, there are like five bazillion female empowerment songs, but this one. This one is my JAM!!! Simply because it’s country. Well… That and that I can really relate to it. (And besides Taylor Swift wasn’t even a thought on the country music scene then.)

 

The first group of girls she talks to is the super emotional teenagers.

“This is for all the girls about thirteen,

 High school can be so rough, can be so mean.

Hold on your innocence,

Stand your ground when everybody’s givin’ in”

 

Now, this verse didn’t really his me until I was like 16 or 17. I had stopped listening to country for a while when my parents divorced and my mother moved me from my home town. When I moved back in with my dad it was either listen to country without your headphones in or listen to it with them in over whatever it is your listening to. So. Didn’t really have a choice and by the time I got my own, car I was back in the habit of listening to country. When I heard this song again, it really hit home. I mean, I compared it to my sophomore, freshman, and eighth grade year. But I could also compare it to my junior and senior year looking back.

 

The next verse speaks to those girls just out of college.

“This ones for the girls about 25,

In little apartments just trying to get by,

Livin’ on dreams and spaghetti o’s,

Wondering where your life is gonna go.”

 

I’m not yet 25 but this verse, as does the first, really resonates with me. I was 18 to 19 living in first a one, then a two bedroom apartment, with a baby, living on frozen dinners, and some crap cooking. (Thanks to my ex roommate who thought she could cook. But I have to say, it was better than spaghetti o’s. Blec!) Then, at least part of the time, I know where my life was going. Now I’m almost 21, married with two kids, renting a small, but cute house, and wondering where my life is going. Am I going to finish my dream? Am I going to find another? Am I going to be like the one thing I dread: My mother?

Only time will tell.

 

In the song, the chorus comes next. But we will get to that in a minute.

 

The next verse is for an age group I don’t yet know anything about. I don’t know what they are going through but these four lines help explain it.

“This is for all you girls about forty two,

Tossin’ pennies into the fountain of youth,

Every laugh line on your face

Made you who you are today.”

I don’t really know what to say about this other than to give myself some future advice: Embrace your wrinkles, you are still beautiful. So all you gorgeous ladies in this age group, feel free to give your view on this verse. What you feel and think, and if it speaks to you.

 

Ok. Here’s the chorus.

“This one’s for the girls

Who’ve ever had a broken heart,

Who’ve wished upon a shooting star,

You’re beautiful the way you are. 

This one’s for the girls,

Who love with out holding back,

Who dream with everything they have,

All around the world,

This ones for the girls.”

I don’t think I can elaborate anymore than that. This song is for every girl, everywhere.

 

So. Find this song, listen to it, and have a little inspiration for the day. If you don’t, well, whatever. Read through the lyrics and have a little inspiration anyway!

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