Overwhelmed Mum Quotes

There were many things Viola could have said at this point. She had thought of all of them while gazing at the forest, the sacred river, the birds, ‘I’m sorry’ being foremost, but instead she told him about the dream. ‘And then you turned to me and you were smiling and you said, “We did it, Mum! Everyone got on the train.”’ ‘I don’t think it was about the train.’ ‘No,’ Viola agreed. ‘It was how I felt when you spoke to me.’ ‘Which was?’ ‘Overwhelmed by love. For you.’ Oh, Viola. At last. Bertie

He looks up. Our eyes lock,and he breaks into a slow smile. My heart beats faster and faster. Almost there.He sets down his book and stands.And then this-the moment he calls my name-is the real moment everything changes. He is no longer St. Clair, everyone's pal, everyone's friend. He is Etienne. Etienne,like the night we met. He is Etienne,he is my friend. He is so much more. Etienne.My feet trip in three syllables. E-ti-enne. E-ti-enne, E-ti-enne. His name coats my tongue like melting chocolate. He is so beautiful, so perfect. My throat catches as he opens his arms and wraps me in a hug.My heart pounds furiously,and I'm embarrassed,because I know he feels it. We break apart, and I stagger backward. He catches me before I fall down the stairs. "Whoa," he says. But I don't think he means me falling. I blush and blame it on clumsiness. "Yeesh,that could've been bad." Phew.A steady voice. He looks dazed. "Are you all right?" I realize his hands are still on my shoulders,and my entire body stiffens underneath his touch. "Yeah.Great. Super!" "Hey,Anna. How was your break?" John.I forget he was here.Etienne lets go of me carefully as I acknowledge Josh,but the whole time we're chatting, I wish he'd return to drawing and leave us alone. After a minute, he glances behind me-to where Etienne is standing-and gets a funny expression on hs face. His speech trails off,and he buries his nose in his sketchbook. I look back, but Etienne's own face has been wiped blank. We sit on the steps together. I haven't been this nervous around him since the first week of school. My mind is tangled, my tongue tied,my stomach in knots. "Well," he says, after an excruciating minute. "Did we use up all our conversation over the holiday?" The pressure inside me eases enough to speak. "Guess I'll go back to the dorm." I pretend to stand, and he laughs. "I have something for you." He pulls me back down by my sleeve. "A late Christmas present." "For me? But I didn't get you anything!" He reaches into a coat pocket and brings out his hand in a fist, closed around something very small. "It's not much,so don't get excited." "Ooo,what is it?" "I saw it when I was out with Mum, and it made me think of you-" "Etienne! Come on!" He blinks at hearing his first name. My face turns red, and I'm filled with the overwhelming sensation that he knows exactly what I'm thinking. His expression turns to amazement as he says, "Close your eyes and hold out your hand." Still blushing,I hold one out. His fingers brush against my palm, and my hand jerks back as if he were electrified. Something goes flying and lands with a faith dink behind us. I open my eyes. He's staring at me, equally stunned. "Whoops," I say. He tilts his head at me. "I think...I think it landed back here." I scramble to my feet, but I don't even know what I'm looking for. I never felt what he placed in my hands. I only felt him. "I don't see anything! Just pebbles and pigeon droppings," I add,trying to act normal. Where is it? What is it? "Here." He plucks something tiny and yellow from the steps above him. I fumble back and hold out my hand again, bracing myself for the contact. Etienne pauses and then drops it from a few inches above my hand.As if he's avoiding me,too. It's a glass bead.A banana. He clears his throat. "I know you said Bridgette was the only one who could call you "Banana," but Mum was feeling better last weekend,so I took her to her favorite bead shop. I saw that and thought of you.I hope you don't mind someone else adding to your collection. Especially since you and Bridgette...you know..." I close my hand around the bead. "Thank you." "Mum wondered why I wanted it." "What did you tell her?" "That it was for you,of course." He says this like, duh. I beam.The bead is so lightweight I hardly feel it, except for the teeny cold patch it leaves in my palm.

realistic: The postpartum period is difficult—a rocky terrain. All but a rare few stumble along the way. (More about Mum recuperating during the postpartum period in Chapter 7.) Believe me, I know that the moment you get home, you’ll probably feel overwhelmed. But if you follow my simple homecoming ritual, you’re less likely to feel frantic. (Remember,

Her eyes shift to my head and the tangle of curls, coils and kinks sitting on top. It springs straight out of my head in an impressive riot that Mum finds overwhelming, so I rarely leave it loose. My hair has broken more combs, trashed more hairdryers and made more hairstylists cry than I can count… so maybe Mum has a point.

could,’ Janet said, fingering some of the delicate lace on the tiny dresses. ‘I just feel a bit overwhelmed, that’s all.’ ‘You must thank him,’ Peggy said and Janet nodded and then stared at her. ‘I don’t know his address, Mum. I never thought to ask – besides, what would his wife think if I rang him and wanted to thank him for a present like this?’ ‘Probably the worst,’ Peggy said wryly. ‘As long as you’re sure he won’t expect anything in return?’ ‘Mum! Ryan isn’t like that. You don’t know him.’ ‘Nor do you,’ Peggy pointed out. ‘If you send it back now it looks rude, so I think you will have to keep it. Your father wouldn’t have let you open the box, but I have to admit I was curious.’ ‘Yes.’ Janet laughed. ‘It isn’t often something like this happens, is it?’ ‘At least it made you laugh,’ Peggy said. ‘Just take it and be grateful, Janet. If it really was meant to be a gift of friendship, you probably won’t see him again.’ Janet nodded, automatically clearing away the packing, which she’d just let fall to the floor. She didn’t want Ryan to fall in love with her. She wanted Mike to come home and never leave her again, but she was beginning to accept that it might never happen.

How funny that a noise like that should provoke such an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. She's heard a million cars come to a standstill on gravel in her lifetime, but that particu- lar noise, the duration of it, the way the tyres have to curve against the stones before stopping, that is a noise that imme- diately pulls her back to the late 90s - the three of them scrambling to look as though they'd been doing homework as Mum arrived back from work, or bracing themselves for the brittle conversation between their parents when their dad had arrived to take them to their grandmother's on his allotted weekends.

Mrs. Mayfield’s bakery still filled the streets with the smell of fresh bread, the barbershop still seemed empty, and the Dundurn Gazette building still looked dilapidated and about to crumble. Maybe this is what I need, Gen thought. She craved stability right now. Recently she had felt lost and overwhelmed, hating life at university and struggling with her course, but desperate to please her mother. Every Isherwood woman attended the University of Toronto; Gen couldn’t be the exception. There was only one major road entering and leaving Dundurn, and it quickly took them away from the bustle. Soon they could see the arch boldly displaying the farm’s name etched into the metal: The Triple 7 Ranch. Nothing about the ranch seemed to have changed: the barn behind the house, the farmland beyond it, or the wheat fields arranged in neat lines stretching into the distance. Gen waited to hear Whisky, their German shepherd, as they pulled in. She always came out of wherever she was and barked loudly when cars arrived. “Where’s Whisky?” she asked after a couple of seconds. “Oh, Whisky passed on last year, honey,” her mum said. “No! What happened?” “Some hooligans from Saskatoon ran her over, honey.” “Sheriff Liam says we have to be extra careful now that some new businesses have settled out there.” “Who would do such a thing?” It seemed some things changed after all. ><>< Gen turned the knob of the bedroom door, which creaked as it swung open. Peering into her old bedroom, memories flooded her senses; she travelled to a time when the world made sense. She heard giggling and the patter of running feet as she recalled a time when all that mattered was finding the best place to hide while playing with her grandfather. She had been an only child but had never felt the loneliness others in her position described. Her grandfather had been her friend, confidante,