do you get 5 with amazon pay

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[Image] It has an explanation of how you met your mom in the comments section, a helpful little guide to understand what the heck you're doing with your kids, and a pretty detailed explainer on why you're always the first to tell them that the best thing to do is to just let everyone know. [Image] Get them from Amazon for $14.

it is the morning of august 28, 1910. there is a haze outside hiding the sun while inside the air is stiflingly hot and humid. in one corner of the room a massive wardrobe stands in masculine majesty. in the opposite corner, made of the same wood but somewhat smaller in its feminine daintiness is an intricately carved chest of drawers. between the room's two front windows is a beautiful dressing table with a large oval plate glass mirror. a chair stands in front of it. this furniture was a wedding gift from the parents of the young woman now beginning to breathe hard and moan softly. the huge brass bed was a wedding gift from her husband's widowed father. the husband and soon to be father, despite the oppressive heat, is downstairs in the kitchen nervously heating some water in a shiny tea kettle on top of a brightly polished black coal stove. in the parlor the hands of a valuable seth thomas wall clock move slowly toward the midday hour as its mechanism ticks off the seconds.

it is sunday morning and most people are at church. the two upstairs bedroom windows open to their fullest, look down upon a quiet scene. it is one that with minor variations can be duplicated in many other neighborhoods in shamokin, at this time, a prosperous anthracite coal-mining town in pennsylvania. the pavements are made of hard red bricks neatly arranged in mosaics to benefit from the contrasting whiteness of cut mountain stone used for curbing. the street is simply the blackest dirt imaginable. when the spring rains come, the streets are a sea of mud. however, now near the end of a parched summer, the street is baked so hard that when the wheels of a common delivery wagon or a stately carriage roll into its ruts, there is nothing for the hapless driver to do but continue moving on in them.

on each front lawn of the comfortable, but by no means elaborate, homes that line both sides of the street stands a towering tree. some trees are elms and maples while others are horse chestnuts and oaks. they provide some shade for those brave souls who, on a sweltering day such as this, dare to venture forth from the coolness of their shuttered parlors. behind the houses on one side of the street are long, pleasant yards with fruit trees, melon vines and blackberry bushes. some of the homes have grape arbors, heavy now with their purple clusters. this very afternoon some of these lucky homeowners will play croquet on their well-manicured grass. on the other side of the street where the laboring mother to be and her sweltering husband live, it is a different story. not a single house has a back yard and the foundations rise starkly upward out of an evil smelling creek of sulfur water into which pours all the raw sewage of the neighborhood. on a sunday such as this, the water is brown but during the rest of the week when the mines are working, it is black with coal dirt. the stench is at times almost unbearable, but it is a fact of life, and the people now in the upstairs bedroom stoically ignore it.

a distinguished looking man sits beside the bed. he is the family doctor. a little black satchel is open at his feet. he has been sitting there for more than an hour. yet he has done nothing and apparently intends to do nothing to relieve the suffering of the woman on the bed. he honestly believes a mother who suffers during childbirth will love her baby more than if the birth were an easy one. at intervals he takes a gold watch from his pocket, opens it slowly and looks at its face. then he puts it back in his pocket. he seems perfectly satisfied with the way things are progressing. on the other side of the bed, his wife sits in a rocking chair, a matronly and capable looking woman. she is ready to assist in bringing another baby into the world as she has many times before. at times she strokes the young woman's hair or holds her hand and in other ways tries to comfort her. meanwhile, the pains of the mother to be have become more severe and are at noticeably shorter intervals. all at once, throwing her brave resolutions to the winds, she slightly raises her body, tosses her head back and screams loudly and unashamedly. the doctor sharply rebukes her. his wife looks across the bed at him with reproachful eyes because of his thoughtless and unprofessional behavior. as she strokes the young woman's forehead with one calming hand, she signals with a finger of the other hand to her lips that he says no more. the body on the bed stiffens and the mother to be brushes aside the hand stroking her forehead. she opens her eyes and in their azure blue depths is the startled look of a mental hurt deeper than physical pain. her eyes close as if in peace at last and her body goes limp in a welcome respite of blessed unconsciousness. the doctor, somewhat taken aback by these unexpected reactions, stares at her with grudging admiration, then sensing that delivery time is close at hand raises the top sheet and goes to work.

a few minutes past the stroke of twelve by the chiming clock in the downstairs parlor the miracle of birth occurs. a high piercing cry rends the air and the doctor brings forth from beneath the sheet a small pink wriggling body. he holds it triumphantly aloft with one hand and vigorously slaps its buttocks with the other. a baby boy has been born. the nervous father has already brought a basin of hot water upstairs. the doctor's wife tenderly washes the little body and then carefully places it beside its mother where it lies peacefully in her cradled arm. the mother, now fully conscious and all pain forgotten, looks at her newborn son rapturously. the doctor congratulates both parents and then adds with the trace of a smile, "he must have been in a hurry to get here. he's about two months early." he looks down at the little head with its eyes closed and its mouth wide open, then speaks reassuringly, "don't worry, he'll be all right."

he puts his forceps in his bag with a few other items and snaps it shut. his wife joins him beside the bed, both happy because of another trouble free birth. the father is overjoyed that he now has a son and heir. the mother is happy too and smiles, although a bit wanly because of her ordeal. her baby has added a new and wonderful meaning to her life. suddenly she exclaims, "he came before we could decide on a name. what shall we call him?" there are a few moments of silence. the doctor's wife speaks firmly. "call him 'neil.' it's a nice name." the others seemed pleased. the mother continues, "my maiden name was 'haupt' so we'll make his middle initial 'h'." then turning to the father, she explains, "this custom is traditional in my family." he immediately signals his approval. he looks at his son. "neil h. tasker," he intones slowly and reflectively. "it has a good ring to it." it has been a most happy occasion. yet, there is a chilling factor present of which all are blissfully unaware.

the parents do not know it.
the doctor has no reason to suspect it.
the child has been born with cerebral palsy.

 he is a spastic.   

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     life in the body god gave me
  by  wayne c. long    email: author@wclong.com