Notes from suburbia

    The sun streamed through the tiny gap that sat between the otherwise closed curtains.   With the light of a new day resting upon her slightly parted eyelids, she could no longer deny the reality of the hours that stretched out before her.   What would the day bring with it? She was reticent about fully opening her eyes.   It was almost as if the daylight held a certain kind of power over her that she needed to resist. The hours of the night before had been long and lonely.   Lonely in spite of the warmth of the body that still lay stretched out beside her.     _____________________________________________________________________________   More 100 words - plus the additional four words from the prompt "...the sun streamed through" - over at Julia's Place

Being a parent is great.  Most of the time.  But like other great things, *go ahead, insert your own list of great things*, you can have too much of it.  I'm not talking about those occasions when a soak in a candle-lit scented bubble bath or half a gallon of gin will sort you out.  No, I mean the times when your head is about to explode because you have well and truly had a belly full of being in demand by EVERYONE ALL OF THE TIME!! Usually, what l I need to get over such a gluttonous excess of parenting  is a few hours to myself. And I mean completely to myself.  Not going on a rare and lovely 'date' with The Husband.  or a fabulous catch-up with a good friend.  Just me. On my own.  A chance to clear my head.  To think about no-one else's needs and wants.  No compromising.  No effort to make conversation. No pressure to do anything that isn't exactly what I do...

Recently I was reading an article - apologies that I can't remember what or where it was and yes, I do realise how unhelpful that is - which suggested that we have a choice about being busy.  Busy-ness isn't a condition in which we simply find ourselves to be suffering from but rather we thrust it upon ourselves through the choices we make.  It went further, suggesting that we tend to 'wear' our busy-ness as a 'badge of honour'. This really struck a cord with me.  Until fairly recently, I've often felt proud to consider myself to be a busy person.  A person with lots to do.  A person with so many responsibilities to juggle that I can be left struggling to fit everything in.  It was reassuring to think that with so much to do and so many people to please my life must surely be very full and meaningful and interesting.  Or was the reality more a case of me feeling that I wasn't giving eno...

The clock continued to tick. Seconds became minutes became hours became new days. The days continued to pass.   Light became dark became light became dark again. The Seasons continued to change. Rain poured leaves fell sun warmed new growth.   How could this be? When   I remained as before yet you were gone.  As the world turned.   And shall continue to turn and turn and it is hard to believe that we were we and now I am   me.   With heavy heart still beating on and on inside my chest. The world turns.   And shall continue to turn and turn and I too, will continue.   __________________________________________ This is my offering for this week's 100 Word Challenge for grown ups #Week107 .  Hop on over ...

The Female Parent (aka my  Mum):  "Sheila (recent new acquaintance of the family) thinks you're a very nice person". Me:  "I am a very nice person.  Lot's of people think I'm perfectly charming" (can you tell I've recently been catching up with Downton Abbey?!). The Female Parent:  "What do you mean?" The Male Parent (aka my Dad):  *smirks* Me:  "People generally think I'm ok, some think I'm quite lovely.  It's only you who tends not to". The Male Parent;  *laughs heartily* The Female Parent:  *assumes the look of mild indignance*  but doesn't contest my statement. It's hard to know whether to laugh or cry really....