 Wysłany: Nie 1:27, 11 Sie 2013 Temat postu: hollister france A Mother's First Christmas Alone |
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| Suzanne Wells is an freelance writer, poet, author and mother of 3. She is a teacher of yoga, dance and Ayurveda hollister france and can usually be found at sunrise ushering the sun over the horizon with song. Her unfinished book lies floating in pieces in the Internet clouds at
The holiday season of 2009 was one of solitude, quiet and complete isolation for me. For the first time in my life I spent these holidays alone. I was grateful for respite of everyday mothering chores of laundry, vacuuming and dishes but couldn't help but feel an utter aloneness tugging at my sleeve. I spent many mornings in bed over the winter months, peeking into the impending day through winced eyelids. Needless to say these were not my best moments. Most mornings I would glance out of my tightly shut eyes, roll over and slam my eyes back shut in a desperate attempt to prevent the intrusion of the day from entering my safe, slumber world. Periodically, I'd tap the snooze alarm like a woodpecker; shift my boney body between the covers and retreat into the nothingness behind my eyes. There dwelled a blank canvas that offered a promise of color, light and imaginary play people who visited my slumber vacation. hollister Occasionally I would sneak a peek out into the morning and quickly clamp my eyes shut; anything to avoid the mundane reality the impending day seemed to insist upon. With each burst of the snooze alarm, fragments of the day would shoot out of the radio like shards of glass, relentlessly poke at my sides and stomach and insist I face them NOW! If did I manage to open my eyes enough to let the entire day fill my vision, I felt like I would have to heave the whole goddamn thing onto my shoulders and trudge with it through the carpets of snow that covered the scenery www.lcdmo.com/hollister.php outside the front door. The week before Christmas a great snow descended on Long Island. I didn't have the funds for plowing the driveway so I just tried to ignore it. I told the kids that with any luck we might get the car out of the block if ice it was encased in, come spring. Each week, I dutifully dragged the garbage cans over the snow drifts in the driveway. I would huff, puff and curse my way to the street but I got those cans out there. Some inner intelligence must have propelled me forth, inspired by an innate understanding that there's nothing worse than being depressed and sitting amongst a week's worth of garbage. Eventually a client arrived for an Ayurvedic Holistic Health Consultation. I half dreaded, half welcomed her visit as I was not sure exactly what I knew about health, certainly not of the mental variety. At any rate, she arrived in a monster, gas 'guzzling, 6 wheel drive, tank-like vehicle; a soldier in an army of mammoth type vehicles that can be spotted patrolling the interminably long Long Island highways. "I'm coming through!" she shouted from her cell phone from the end of the driveway. Crouched in the living room, I heard her voice blare through my cell. I winced at her cheerfulness and my eyes rolled up inside my head. "Go for it if you have to", I thought. She made it to the door and I was thankful for the new ridges her tires drove into the mounting snow that covered my endless driveway. All winter hollister france long I blessed her, as I carefully aligned the wheels of my car along the tracks she hollister france had made in the packed snow. Every jordan time I got out to the street, I would mutter a silent prayer for her, grateful for safe navigation into the world that lurked beyond the garbage cans. At this point of hollister the winter, it felt as if the house itself was deteriorating into a long, endless wail for help. We were down to one working toilet moncler out of three. Weeks earlier I had duck taped the other two shut to prevent the maddening whine of their drip, drip, drip. I just couldn't stand their whining anymore, like little kids insisting on attention. Night and day....drip, drip, drip. So one afternoon I www.vivid-host.com/barbour.htm ran down the hall wielding a roll of duck tape in my clenched fist. I rushed into each bathroom like a banshee and headed for the bowl. Crazed, I ripped the grey, sturdy duck tape around their porcelain mouths so their lids would not open. I moseyed down the hall satisfied I had shut them up for good. If that wasn't enough to get on my last remaining nerve; the kitchen sink was constantly clogged, refusing to swirl the little bits of soiled food pieces down its drain. I resorted to keeping the plunger within reach of the sink so I could cajole the clogged drain to carry the debris into the swelling cesspool. The cesspool itself was another story. If I did more than two loads of laundry in a row, I would find the grass in the backyard bubbling up with grey water and other forms of toxic, sticky stuff. It was a rough winter alright. On Christmas Eve I found myself lying between the cold sheets of my bed...musing. I realized at the age of 47 I had never, ever spent a Christmas alone. The Christmas Eve's of the last 9 hollister outlet years had been filled with fulfilling Santa Clause fantasies and preparing for midnight mornings in which I would be woken by three sets of eyes about 3 feet high staring straight into my slumbering face. Prior to my entry into motherhood, I always had an array of invitations for Christmas Day by some acquaintance or other. On this Christmas Eve however, I just lied there thinking about the next day, the actual Christmas Day, and wondered what it would be like to be alone. I thought of all the parents falling into bed, exhausted after two weeks of wrapping hollister uk and baking and preparing other miscellaneous festivities. I was secretly relieved that I had barbour uk totally opted out of Christmas this year. It was a choice necessitated by a summer filled with kids who couldn't afford summer camps and a fall full of endless welfare, food stamp and labor department lines. I was broke and tired. By the time Christmas rolled around I was done. I asked their Dad to take over and he agreed to take the kids for the holiday week. I was glad for the kids as they needed family time when people actually smiled and at least pretended to believe in Santa Clause. 相关的主题文章： louboutin pas cher Why Living Without A Burglar System Is Ri hollister france Internet Marketing For Small Business - Dou www.msc-sahc.org/moncler.asp How Fear Can Stop Your Internet |
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