I think everyone who complains about stability, just don't understand his happiness. That's how people are made. While on maternity leave, I wrote tons of letters about my unhappiness. Why I can't turn my mother off 24 hours a day, and the worst thing is, it's gonna happen now. I don't have a choice anymore. And in the forefront always only their interests-two my Until. I'm next on the list. Just because I think it's the right thing to do. I can drop the farm and go to the gym. But to score beautifully it is necessary to consider, and that these two hours will do your children, cook in advance and come up with who for whom will look.
I "put everything out" beautifully. But that's not the story. It's about a family crisis.
One day I felt as hurt as I could possibly be.
And I had no levers of control of a situation. My monogamous henpecked suddenly bucked wildly and stopped hearing me. All I wanted was attention. Out of some petty scandal, a wall had suddenly grown.
I saw only myself-I feed at night, I prick injections, I take procedures and lie in terrible hospitals, I read at night, I cook endlessly (my husband eats one, the elder another, the younger third, and I finish). I do homework, I make costumes for kindergarten and school. I go to parent-teacher conferences, I write essays. Where am I in all this? And he-makes a career, gets a second education, attends trainings and grows over himself. I thought it was at my expense. And I left. Gave the children and said-now it's my turn to think about myself. And you, please take care of them. From the garden, you have to pick up at 18. Feed on time.
I absolutely not skillful to do stash and earn. So the money I have was virtually 0.0. A friend invited me to stay with (attention!) his mother's ex-mother-in-law. I found myself in a lonely grandmother's apartment. She was a wonderful old lady. Vast as the earth (diabetes), profoundly religious (Catholic), beautiful (a collection of hats in two cupboards). She was also an honored teacher and speech therapist.
The therapeutic stay with my grandmother lasted three days and three nights.
First I saw that such civic participation. It's when the kids grew up and ... forgot about you. The word really. Or rather not - they make calls on a very necessary for them about. And every such call is a holiday. Immediately recruited a dear friend and retell in detail the conversation with the pride that you called.
I saw what real poverty is. Grandmother Nina was hard. She paid the loan from her meager pension (took money from the Bank for her husband's treatment, and then for his funeral). Once the same grandmother appeared on the threshold and brought two zucchini. From the garden. As a gift. There was a touching exchange – one girlfriend received zucchini ("...one put out with rice, and the second will make pancakes"). And the second a host bag bread crumbs for their chickens.
And they were so happy.
I saw compassion. Once grandma Nina baked buns at night. Many. Why at night? It's too hot this afternoon. 9-floor panel house was heated just awful. There was no air during the day. And the rolls had to be taken to the Church because the poor parishioners came that day. But that soup Shurochka, she is sick, lives in the village. A cake for the young priest, let him rejoice. Grandmother Nina took the flour from the Church and carried it across the city on a trolley.
I saw love.
On the last penny grandmother Nina bought his terrible Pekingese Bunka chicken legs. And watched him eat them. And happy. (The Pekingese disliked me, suddenly bit my heels and I just could not sometimes leave my room). Grandmother endlessly longed for her recently departed husband Kolenka, remembered and talked with him sometimes. From the outside it was heartbreaking.
I saw the weakness is removed only in the middle of the room. As there is no strength to crawl to the bathroom and just sitting on a stool, wiping himself with a cloth. As is done wearing a stub pencil. Like a trembling hand can paint your lips. As well sit, to iron a Pekinese and dream. about manicure. And cutlets, and that certainly from two types of meat.
I learned that parishioners, especially old ones, count each other. And if someone does not come to the service, then a delegation of those who walk quickly goes to him immediately. And suddenly ill? What if you need help? The duty of the grandmother spread so feeble bread and home-made soups in jars. Sometimes they throw money on drugs. There are a lot of lonely old people. In fact, they have both children and grandchildren... only it doesn't change anything.
The Pekingese attacked me when grandma wasn't home. He bit my toe so meanly for the hundredth time that I just took a broom and gave him a couple of times on the brazen flat face. And suddenly ... it felt so easy. So well. For three days I suddenly in love with their "failed" lives, their difficulties, their problems are solved and its stability. Otedola her grandmother Nina's apartment gave money and scored chicken legs for nasty Pekingese the freezer, bought a bag of sugar and flour. And, of course, meat for cutlets. Brushed the dust and folded beautifully collection of hats.
Grandma Nina came up with the idea that my husband will come for me in a white car and I will go out here in this skirt, and she will wave to me from the balcony and everything will be fine.
Almost the way it was.
Except for the fact that I called a taxi. We made up.
I really appreciate my stability since then. And grandma Nina died. From old age and diabetes. My friend and her mother supported her to death, took her swimming once a week, gave her money and food. I don't know where the Pekinese went.
Such story.