Her giggles...

As with any parent, I feel my daughter is the cutest, the brightest, the most caring and nurturing of the bunch. I think all of our kids are the "top of the line"... [That's a play on words from my sister-in-law about a fellow employee that has to buy "top of the line". I hear it and it cracks me up! Sorry, I digress!]

I wanted to get down as much as I could about the love of my life: my amazing daughter and partner in crime! Crime, because that's how we roll...

I love her giggles that start out small then grow to be twice

her size and just as infectious.

I love her new thing now where she, completely out of the blue, yells at you to play the quiet game and who can stay the quietest the longest. I get a kick out of the progression of her facial features and her body language as she absolutely tries to hold in the laughter. Her nose starts to wrinkle. Her eyes squint up and her lips curl up and over her top teeth. A little brown Hotei totally comes to mind.

I love her high energy and how she is nonstop pretty much most of her waking life. But, then too, there isn't much quiet time in our waking life unless she's playing the quiet game.

I love how her little round body can move and groove to some pretty tricky beats. She loves to sing and dance and prance in her Sunday best with the highest, most gaudy shoes she can find. The uglier for me, the better for her! Although, she gets the jiggiest when she is just butt nekked and free... all the while giggling uncontrollably.

I love her early appreciation of music. We used to drill her on a handful of about 10 black musicians and what instruments they played. From the time she could speak, her daddy started this ritual wherever we went. She got to the point she could identify by sight with some as well. Those were some fun days.

"What does Miles Davis do?"... "He plays the horn"
"What does Bob Marley do?"... "Listen to Bob"
(all drawled out and mellow-like)
"What does Jimi Hendrix do?... "He plays the guitar"
"Who is James Brown?"... "He's the Godfather of Soul"
"Who is George Clinton?"... "He's the Godtather of Funk"
"What does Stevie Wonder do?"... "He plays the piano"

I love how she can endure, persevere and is overcoming her obstacle to learn. Near the end of last year she could not read. Now she reads beautifully and is working on her comprehension. Even with her struggles and extra workload, she trudges on and is still excited to go to school and is willing to learn. I can only hope and pray that tenacity carries her through life and takes her where she wants to go! I could really learn a thing or two.

I love how she is my little protector. She is always concerned how I feel and how others feel. She remembers the way things used to be and in her own mind and in her own little world, that was the best heaven a little one could ask for. Still are those quiet moments that we share together some memories of our old house wtih the great room in the front and the pool in the back and daddy bar-b-quing. She misses those younger times -- sheesh, she's only seven!! Now with daddy having a girlfriend that quite possibly will be moving in soon, she's concerned with my feelings. I hide my true feelings of resentment and anger trying to make her at ease when I feel her stresses. She's my Amazon, my little warrior princess -- and has a strong right arm comparable to Kimbo Slice!!!

I love her curiousity! Dang, but it trips me out sometimes. When my dad was in the hospital and then home after his surgery to remove cancer (yay to being over a year cancer free!!!), she was right there being his rehabilitation nurse -- telling him to drink his water, be careful when walking, making sure he ate his lunch... She is all about cuts and bruises and even the dog pooping. She's always wanting to know how things work and why and then cringing at the sight and the explanation, only to go back for more.

I love how she is a survivor. She came into this world in such an unfair, unfortunate way, but she fought hard and beat the odds. This little vulnerable creature was born to an older, misguided creature who decided not to take care of herself while carrying my precious package. See, I was told by a Lakota friend that children choose their parents. Being that Miracle is half Dakota, this story seems to apply to her. She was up there floating around in the heavens for about eight some odd years saying, "okay, would you hurry the hell up and be ready to be parents so I can be born?!?!?". It's unfortunate, or not, that she was not born of blood and bone to us, but born of the heart and on a much more difficult path to come into our lives.

Phew, enough of that!!

Here is a huge thank you to my little sassy frassy girl
and to all the kids and parents that we have in our lives.

We are just that much more rich for it.