See this mug? Pretty big for my portions. A lovely present from my daughter and her boyfriend. I treasure it on top of the bookshelves.
Setting high stakes for my first two daughters, I considered that this will do them good. And so it is. Professionally they both are way ahead. An outsider would tell me to be proud. Well, I wish I could.
Then come the twins, so different from each other. About the time when you think of retirement, as a mom, you wake up back to highschool, learning chemistry, literature, drawing and painting. Repeating the tenth grade at 50+ is not that easy, no matter how good a mother you’d try to be.
Actually, I consider myself a desperate mother. Sounds like a dramedy title. Ain’t it? Remember Desperate Housewives or Bad Moms – that’s a movie. But where’s the mom who’s spending hours reading to (or listening at recited lessons) her six feet tall son. Not saying that I’m the only one. Still it’s quite stressful.
No one can escape constant stress. Cortisol is a killer. You need to relax, to plan about it, to grab the minute when you see it, to look for a break and enjoy it.
Books were always best friends of mine. They help me escape the moment. They take me on wings. They show me skies and oceans. But before all these, books are fun. I read books when going to bed. Books that I choose. Not imposed. I read for me, not for a school curriculum.
À Propos books, I have a little present for you.