Can You Have Herpes On You Stomach?

Grandchild multitask? NO, THANKS WE NEED A PHYSICAL

They call them children-agenda: they are the children who have every minute of every day chock full of commitments. They are the children of the English school of piano lessons and guitar lessons in judo, the football coach, the equestrian, the "two hours a day up to Nintendo." It is the children that whatever they do must hit a target, to reach a goal, to produce a result. Superbambini are the result of obsession (widespread endemic levels) for the perfect child. Obsession misunderstood that parents call (unforgivable in good faith) "desire to offer the best son any chance." The perfect children, such as managers of multinational companies, never get bored because they do not have the time. I also had one child-agenda: as a mad demiurge, rather than let it grow free as his nature would forcefully, I chained to a long list of duties, sometimes disguised as entertainment (and that, if possible, is even worse). I now know very clearly that a good mother does not want a perfect child, but a happy child. And the happiness of a child depends strictly on the possibility of the child, which consists mainly in the way he likes to have time outside of school. In order to spend many hours playing or lazing in the meaning most of the term, without being pressured by parental expectations. I will make the impossible possible and to avoid having a grandchild multitask. I will begin as soon as possible to talk to the daughter slow parenting, which sums up the invitation for Americans to do parents with peace of mind, without exaggeration in anxiety, delusions of perfectionism, expectations. But not only, means also - yes, yes I said fine scientists and seems to work - to avoid putting the child at the center of their lives. And just think for a moment to understand what this might mean liability relief for small stuff to feel as light as balloons filled with helium. Quiet grandchild, you'll see that you too will touch a little life by balloon.

ps without M Marina, this post is all your fault :-)

Blood Stained Mucus No Period

bestiality (not about CARBON MA)

In my lonely only child of the sixties, for I had not seem clear to sharpen our wits. So no one had the passion to entertain the kids in every single minute of their existence, let alone fill the afternoons for those of all levels. My parents, though grateful to fate for granting them a daughter and have biological fertility clock was about to pull the last breath, did not care anything that bored me, even I do not think that there was the possibility to feed such a concern, so do not you dreamed of behaving like leaders of a village Valtur. After school I came home and, if weather conditions do not get you in the courtyard, I walked in the room, in full confidence that it was right and that it was sacrosanct. I could play in my room and read or do homework, everything at my leisure, in any order, without undergoing pressure or to be monitored. Now I'm pretty sure was perhaps for this reason that just after lunch (then she left school at 12.30) I opened the folder and I immediately put them in those blessed tasks. I wanted to take them off stomach if I did I would not be able to enjoy the evening because if there was one thing that bothered me more than anything in the world was the possibility of being scolded by the teacher. As long as the tasks were finished I was in the grip of a malaise that stemmed from the fear that something would happen that would prevent me from doing it. Who has time do not wait time: this warning began to haunt me a child and I still do not spring (Sit down, but nothing).

After the tasks and before the TV boys I liked to read, but above all to draw. And it is around seven years that I started the "beastly game" which, as evidenced by the adjective, immediately understood what I was far from unlucky for doing good than Pollyanna. The game was simple but requires great powers of observation and a good body of knowledge specific was to find in the vast universe of animals, including reptiles, amphibians, birds, mammals, insects, the consideration of people I knew. In front of me a sketchbook and Natura Viva (systematic Encyclopedia of the animal kingdom, Vallardi publisher) and I thought I thought of the faces that I had known (the grocer, the doctor, the janitor, the pharmacist, the hairdresser, the nun who sell asabesi oratory) and then thumbed through the thick volumes in search of double quadruped, biped, invertebrate or fish bones and fins. When I found what he was doing in my case I copied it using colored pencils and then, in the finished work, a block in the uncertain early years and then gradually improved graphics, write the name of the person and the picture looked like this which (or so it seemed). The album the designs was a secret. I never knew if I hid my nanny (see post about "On the phone with Mary Poppins, February 19) or my parents or all three to have peeled or if somehow they were informed. Who knows where that album, I'd have it again, for portraits and a fragment of the girl who I was, that certainly there is still entangled. But so be it. I think I stopped around nine years to paint over my characters vaguely Kafkaesque (the human characteristics are intertwined, fused and confused with those of animals-look-alike), while I have continued unabated in the years to deal (with imagination) of bestial associations. E 'stronger than me, almost an automatism: in line at the supermarket, queuing at the traffic lights in the bakery queue, queued to the vet and can not be read anywhere but in return, there will be great to get bored I look at faces of the people, then I browse the archives mental, which is neatly ethological my knowledge, and a beak amen similarity. I must say that lately I've come to a couple of pelicans. Those were years that I could not see. Then this morning the shock. During the time when I went to and back from the store by bike, I have closed and shipped to a piece (on the face of a national holiday), I called daughter to know how he is (bad, vomiting still a lot), I put antibiotic drops in the ears of Mrs. Luisa (which has fixed otitis worse than a child's first year of kindergarten), putative Future Grandpa got up, he made the coffee has sown peppers tomatoes and its virtual farm ( che.dio.facesse.andare.in.malora.tutto.il.raccolto ). Then in the next period of time when I had a shower, I washed, dried and brushed Gino; removed from the ground a little 'hair with Elf, putative Future Grandpa began to dress. This has not yet completed the operation (while I started and finished this post).

HO WHO GOT 'And the latter figure (not yet dressed!) Confirmed the discovery: a Bradypus variegatus.

ps maybe one day I'll write a memoir : My Life with Sid

Fix Vinyl Floor Stained By Rubber Backed Mat

CHANGE OF PERSPECTIVE

the prestigious summit of the most famous specialists in the world spoke Dr. parsel, cardiologist. It was December 31, 1999. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, the Supreme, after removal service personnel with a wave of his hand and demanded that the doors of the vast room were locked, "Dear colleagues, I wanted to gather all this evening so special, to communicate the results of studies that have engaged me and my employees for more than thirty years. " A shiver of excitement ran through the room, then fell silent and remained Distinguished properties in their expectation of scientists, interrogative, exhausting, unsustainable. They were to suffer more than one hundred and Dr. parsel did not mind keeping them on the rope. He resolved then to skip all the preamble and any introductory speech and was to the point: "We have found the drug of immortality," community "acts directly on the vital, heart, spinal cord, brain, immune system, protects them from wear and tear, puts them safe from any disease, is able to keep good health and good for centuries. " With bated breath the doctors listened to none of them doubted the veracity of the discovery, and their minds working feverishly to assess the impact and implications. Many hands went up and, one by one, the questions were met. Yes, the wonder drug could be administered to all and everyone, without exception, they would stretch the supreme benefit. Yes, the cost of production would be relatively small so that every country in the world could meet its purchase to distribute it for free, at least to those who could not cope with the expense of their own pockets. It was very little to add except the fascinating technical details about the mechanism of action of medicine. When it was five minutes to midnight every curiosity was satisfied: the Distinguished High and formed a toast to the new millennium and Exalted above all, objective achieved. Raising their glasses and looked each other in the eyes read the reflection of what he felt himself: the terror of life, yet the worst fear of death, the anguish of tomorrow made vacant by the lack of an ending, the nausea of \u200b\u200ba future eternal boredom at the lack of transgression, even a single transgression, at least once: one thousand smoke cigarettes, eat too much fat, making love with a stranger, run to two hundred per hour on the highway, do small hours were risk-free gestures, actions, empty, bland, tired. Without the specter of Challenge, no, they were certain, would no longer enjoy life. And they were physicians, scientists, those who had the destiny of humanity. No, the discovery would not do word with the world. Neither would ever dare to use it themselves.

This story I wrote exactly 12 years ago, in the year 2000 I was convinced of his final and I could have sworn that if the conference had proceeded, and that if I really, for a favorable combination astral there was, I would have voted to conceal the discovery of exactly how all the scientists present. But now his grandson is coming and I, if ever described the summit to take place and if ever I am invited to, fight for a dose of prodigious drug and then, once achieved, would put it in the safe to give it away immediately after entering in the world.

Goodman Heaterdraft Inducer Cleaning

UNFINISHED STORIES OF ONLY ONE DAUGHTER

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Falla noiosa>>, the recommendations every night , \u0026lt;\u0026lt;più boring otherwise can not funziona>>. And Daughter, warm and accommodating in his flannel pajamas white hearts pink, nodding his head. But his bedtime stories that I asked her to tell me, sure (one Paraculo true) that if she had to invent for I would have yielded better results in terms of creative development, language training and rapid fall asleep, often had that flash of pathos who kept alive his attention for too long compared to what I want to engage in ritual evening.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;There was once a very poor bat named Rolando. He was very poor because ... because ... mmm>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Perché had lost everything casinò>> I suggested, repenting immediately because such an idea was undoubtedly exaggerated adrenaline.

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;What casinò?> What is the> daughter asked

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;A wonderful place full of lights and sounds-dlin, dlin dlin-voices-and-rienevaplu the sciesonfe-where you put the tokens (called chips and buy with money) on a table that says 1, 2, 3, 4 to 36. Then there is a wheel full of so many numbers from 1 to 36 plus zero and double zero running. Above us running the ball: If the ball stops when it falls on the number 24 on bets that the mother wins many tokens ...>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Okay 'then there was once a bat named Roland who was very poor because ... mmmm ... because he lost everything he had at the casino there Mmm ... bet on the 24 ... So one day he decided to go for the world to seek his fortune: he took the bus ...>>

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Scusa but bats do not take l'autobus>>, interrupted I deformation for my reporter, who must at all costs faithfully report the facts. But even in this case I regretted either because a discussion would distract the child from drowsiness that precedes sleep, or because for the sake of justice it is true that bats do not get on the tram going to seek his fortune is certain that they do not become poor because they have developed a dependency gambling.

\u0026lt;dai, scusa, 'No I sbagliata, your bat sì, takes l'autobus, force racconta…>>

But at this point she was already asleep, or pretended because a child had a very practical sense and did not like to be dragged into issues in an unstable balance between the paradox, the philosophical the existential ethology.

And so, unfortunately, a wide range of incipit is what I have left of fairy tales invented daughter to fall asleep, because of bad luck / good fortune to have a mother of 20 years (and 20 years, as he sings Guccini in his mythical Eskimo, you can be happy and full of ideals of course, but also "really stupid" and I was exactly at all).

No Fairytale daughter has ever been built from the ground or has an ending. I think it would be a nice gift for her baby if there rimettesse hand and complete, in writing. For my part I do not put more beak and wait to read with the same anxiety with which the look out for the next anthology of short stories of Allende.