Anticipation. Yearning. Longing. Nervous. Impatience. Fear. Desperation. Love. Desire. All of these emotions were flooding through Cori. Her heart was pounding and her mind racing. The moment she had spent months anticipating was finally here.
She anxiously scanned the crowd. His plane had landed almost half an hour ago, and still there was no sign of him. Her nerves couldn’t hold out much longer. She nervously pulled at the hem of her dress.
“Where is he?” she asked herself aloud. She was starting to worry. Had he changed his mind? No. She knew that wasn’t possible. “He will be here,” she reassured herself. She was just so nervous that fear was starting to creep in. Insecurity was always causing her to doubt things that she knew. Especially when it came to love. He wouldn’t disappoint her. She knew it.
When she finally saw him she ran and jumped on him. He stumbled back a step, but caught her. Her heart was racing as she looked into his eyes for the first time. The busy airport around them faded away. All there was was Liam. She couldn’t seem to think or breathe. All she could do was feel.
The love she felt grew and intensified in that moment. All her fears melted away. The nervousness subsided. This moment in time would forever be perfect. Liam’s arms were around her as they looked into one another’s eyes. She had dreamed of this moment for months, yet they were mere fantasy. This was different. This was real. And it was beautiful.
Too soon he let her slide to her feet. His arms around her didn’t loosen. His eyes never left hers. All of the emotions flooding through her were incredible. And intense. Neither of them had said a word. It was unnecessary. This was a time to put words aside and feel. Just feel.
Her mind began to clear and her thoughts came rushing back. As he leaned into her she smiled. This was yet another moment she had spent hours dreaming of. She knew nothing in her imagination could have ever prepared her for this moment. The thought made a small laugh escape her lips.
The next instant his lips were pressing into hers. All of the thoughts that had been rushing through her mind disappeared. The kiss started out soft and full of emotion. She could feel his love for her in that kiss. There was no denying it. Her knees felt weak and her mind a little foggy. She deepened the kiss with a sense of urgency. She had needed this moment for so long and it was finally here.
My parents came to visit me this past weekend in order to begin moving my belongings back home. I would have treated my mother to some Mother’s Day presents, unfortunately I was flat broke. Instead, we went to the mall where she bought me a new dress, skirt, shoes, and purse.
My mom absolutely despised the shoes I chose to wear that day, so the first stop was at to Spring for a new pair of shoes. At first, we were looking for a pair of sandles for her. These shoes caught my eye but I did not want to draw the attention away from her. She picked up a really cute pair of flowery shoes and said “What about these for you?” I responded with “Oh, we’re looking for shoes for me, as well? What about these?” I pulled out the pair that sparked my interest and she liked them more than the flowery pair. I tried them on, loved them, and we purchased them immediately.
The second stop was to GAP. Ladies and gentleman, GAP is my favourite store and it can sometimes be very troubling to walk in. However, I have been very good these past few months and haven’t spent any money on GAP clothing. We found this super cute dress and purchased it right away. I tried the dress in beige as well, unfortunately the colour was too light. It’s perfect for hot summer days and shorter than I originally thought…I might have to wear shorts underneath.
Last was this amazing yellow purse. I love yellow and flowers, so this was a must-have. It was a bit pricey, so orignally we didn’t purchase this incredible find. But my wonderful mother sent me back with her debit card at the end of our trip.
C’est tout pour aujourd’hui.
She wasn’t able to identify exactly why she was crying; maybe it was because she knew he was bad for her, that his words were most likely false. Still she knew he’d hooked her and she couldn’t give him up, even though he wasn’t fully hers and she’d never been any good at sharing.
A memory resurfaced in her head, she was fourteen and was shrieking at her younger sister because she’d borrowed one of her tops, a pastel-blue one with a butterfly made out of multi-coloured sequins on it.
‘Take it off,’ she’d screamed at her.
Her sister, a year younger but blonder and taller simply shrugged and started to walk off, so she grabbed out at her and pulled at the side of the top. Her sister squealed and tried to hit her hands away. The fabric started to stretch and alter in shape and then she tugged too hard and watched as the fabric split and the sequins fell to the floor like a tumbling rainbow.
Instead of feeling sad at the demise of her top she merely found herself smiling. That was the way she had always been, she’d rather destroy something than share it and this theory never changed, that was until she met Jay.
Hiding the note away in her bedside draw she grabbed her make-up bag and looking into her oval, metal-framed mirror she began to dab foundation over her blotchy skin, adding a new coat of mascara and pouting out her lips as she carefully applied a shiny rose lip-gloss
Looking at her made-up face she was pleased that she could at least fool people into thinking she was okay, even if inside her heart was aching.
Single motherhood most definitely is not easy, then you throw a hyperactive five-year old into the mix. This most definitely does not ease the strain any. I’ve asked several people for their opinion on how to handle ths situation. The most frequesnt response is that you need to spend more one-on-one time with him and he may be more willing to provide you with more me time.
Even with taking my son to do more things such as breakfast in the mornings once a week, bike rides, going to the park, taking walks he still cannot get enough time with his momma. To boot, he just is not worn out by the end of the day and has a tendency to stay awke until 10:30-11:00 at night. However, the one activity that I have found to be effective is to take 15-20 minutes before bed to read to my son. He will actually sit still, cuddle up with me, and read with me. He has a few favorite books that are visually and auditorially appealing. Follwoing reading books, he generally is content to curl up, watch a movie, and fall asleep.
He usually falls asleep earlier the nights that we set aside some time to read books before going to bed. This means more me time for mommy in exchange for 15-20 minutes before bed. Momma has more time to partake in her chill time which involves socializing on facebook or even doing some writing.
If you have any suggestions for how to obtain more mommy me time please feel free to comment below. I am eager to learn about some other methods.
My mom almost died upon giving birth to me and it is because she had experienced painless vaginal bleeding during her third trimester pregnancy or in medical terms known as “Placenta Previa”, a complication of pregnancy but this case is rare and it’s an EMERGENCY cesarian delivery or else both mother and child will die. Only this occurs in 1 out of 200 pregnancies and in my mom’s case, well, since her age is 38 that time so she’s really high risk. She gave birth to me on her 8th month which left me to be born prematurely or else both of us will die. (I was in the incubator they said for 2 months).
That’s why I love my mom so much. I always feel her undying love and unconditional support that she gives to me until now. I could even remember when I was 6 years old, she even asked one of the hospital’s director if she can bring me inside the operating room just once for me to witness them operate a patient and because of my mom being so persistent they approved on it and there I was a 6 year old girl wearing a green operating gown with a mask and gloves on, all geared up and looking at them on one corner of the room just sitting quietly and watching on how they delivered a baby. That’s an experience too that I can never forget and that’s all because of mom.
Maddie stood there, a pack of petunias in her hand. Jason could tell she wasn’t happy about planting the flowers together. He sighed.
They had been married for four years, the first three quite happily. But last year he saw Maddie having lunch with an old high school boyfriend. She said it was just lunch, just to catch up. But the guy called two days later, and Jason answered. Jason told him off, told him to never call his wife again. Maddie overheard and got angry with Jason. They never really sorted it out, hurt feelings on both sides, and things got worse from there. At a suggestion from a friend, they both agreed to marriage counseling. The flower planting activity was required.
Maddie blew a strand of blond hair from her face. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
Jason nodded and pushed the shovel into the ground. He dug a hole and Maddie put in a flower. Jason dug two more holes.
He laughed. “Remember when I came to pick you up for ice cream on our first date? Your dad was out in the yard planting rose bushes. He looked me up and down, and said, ‘Son, do you see this nice hole here? I can dig a mighty good hole. So if you even think about doing something to my daughter that I wouldn’t approve of or if you break her heart, just remember that.’”
Maddie’s eyes grew wide. “He told you that?” she laughed. “That’s just like Dad. Always looking out for his little girl.”
Jason smiled. “You came out of the house wearing that pink and white sun dress. They were the exact same colors as the rose petals. I almost fainted right there.”
Maddie howled with laughter. “You never told me this.”
“How could I? I was too scared of your father to say anything.”
Maddie’s smiled faded. She brushed her fingers through the petunias, and then looked up at Jason. “I’m sorry for everything,” she said.
I want you to meet my Uncle. Yes, he is a Missionary Salesian priest for more than 30 years now and still counting. He’s the eldest brother of my dad and our family and friends often called him Fr. Ritchie or “Fads” for short. As I saw this picture from his Wall, I was moved by it. I felt the pride I have with him as his niece, he’s very own first niece. I remember when my grandma was still alive, he was very proud of him. She often tells me stories about how happy she was raising a priest and that he brings pride and joy in our family.
I used to disagree with my grandma before when she said that. I used to dislike him as my uncle because he was very strict when I was just a little girl. He does not want me to play too much.He wanted me to be reserved and formal as a girl since I was so playful and oftentimes acted like a boy at my age. As a child, Of course, I would not understand why he scolded me when I played during meal times during our family gatherings or if I wore tight fitting clothes and shorts or sleeveless blouses when I was a teenager most especially when he was around. For me, that was too much but I can’t do anything but to simply obey his command and simply kept silent.What he says is like a “law” that we all have to agree and obey. That’s what I think.
Music has an impact in everyone’s lives. Even if you aren’t a huge fan of music, it still leaves some sort of impact. Music has been an essential part of my life for as long as I can remember.
When I was very young I was stuck listening to my mom’s music. Some of that wasn’t a bad thing. Luckily she wasn’t one of those parents who were so stuck in their own time that they can’t appreciate newer music. I remember when Eminem first came out. My mom would rap right along with him. I mean, yeah it was a little embarrassing at times but it was also a LOT of fun.
In all aspects of my life, music has always been there. Whether it was a high point, low point, or just an average day, it was always there. Even as a teenager who hated the world at times, I never hated music. When the rest of the world was driving me crazy I would just turn up the volume and tune them all out.
It has gotten me through the loss of loved ones, heartache, the birth of my children, moments when my boys are driving me crazy, and so much more. When I’m happy, excited, or nervous I always turn up the volume while sing and dance along. I truly suck at both but I enjoy it anyway and don’t care what other people think. It gives me confidence. Can you tell that I love Music?
I have a sad confession to make, at one point in time I was addicted to Vampire Wars on facebook. What can I say? I was a bored housewife. Needless to say my friends list grew rapidly. Most of the people I had never really talked to outside of an occasional “hi, how are you”. I quit playing over a year ago, yet still had many of the friends I’d made through the game.
Shortly after becoming a single mom I began to chat with one of those friends, Chris. I was online one night and he popped up and started a conversation. We instantly hit it off. I felt like I could tell him anything and everything without fear of being judged or having it repeated. Which for me is HUGE! I don’t trust people as a general rule.
At the time he was going through a divorce and I had just ended my almost 10 year relationship with the father of my boys. So neither of us were looking for anything more than friendship. I was amazed at how easily that friendship came. Over the next few months his support was AMAZING. I’m not sure I would have made it through the insanity of it all without him. The fact that we were both going through similar situations helped. We kept each other sane through the insanity.
I found myself with a ridiculous smile every time I saw him online. Yet, I didn’t realize the possibilities that were there. I had myself pretty convinced that it was all about having a friend who understood me. Don’t get me wrong, that is incredible in its own right. But what I was on the verge of finding was so much more than I could have ever anticipated…
Writing is the love of my life. The process of transforming thoughts into words has a kind of magic to it. Chemical and electric exchanges in my brain translate into chevrons on paper, and when read can give an insight into the thought process. But I write more for myself than for others. It is more about the processing than the communication. And yet, I still feel the drive to seek publication, and affirmation.
I often feel like I shouldn’t seek the approval of others for my writing. I don’t write for others; while I am sitting and typing I have no audience in mind at all. The words flitter through my thoughts and I catch them, then pin them down, and piece them together so that they seem to fit. But it is all about making them fit me, not any other observer. My writing process is purely solipsistic.
But after something has been written, and the words are all there, captured and solid, the temptation to share the piece sets in. Perhaps it comes from a lifetime of schooling, in which everything you produce must be handed over and evaluated. Perhaps I am seeking a big tick of approval. Or maybe it is a competitiveness, as I want to know how my writing stands against others. I’m really not a competitive person at all, but no doubt there is some of it in me.
The purity of the writing process just doesn’t seem to fit in with the post-writing consideration of sharing. There is no desire for evaluation or competition when I write. It leaves me wondering if I should enter into the attempt to get published at all when a piece is complete.
I oscillate between wanting to write simply for myself, and keeping what I’ve written private, and daydreaming about publication.
However conflicted I may be about outlets for my writing, I don’t it is something I will ever stop doing.