Cradle Song

Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
Dreaming in the joys of night;
Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep.

Sweet babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.

As thy softest limbs I feel,
Smiles as of the morning steal
O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast
Where thy little heart doth rest.

O the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep!
When thy little heart doth wake,
Then the dreadful night shall break.

William Blake

#HAWMC Day 16: In a Funk

Monday, 16 April 2012
in a funk

Okay, so it all started a couple of days before I wrote this post.  I realized my little brothers would be leaving soon, the weather suddenly turned from glorious to miserable so we didn't go to a fair we had planned on going.  People were getting sick left, right and center and worse of all:   

I was starting to catch it!!

At some point during my sleep deprived, heavily medicated and delusional state, I decided to fiddle with one of the #HAWMC posts I had written (the one about the letter to my 16 year old self).  It was pretty shabby (read: intoxicated) writing, but still, it was mine.  It was a part of my story and now it's gone forever.  I know, pretty pathetic when you think about it, but still, it makes me mad.  I don't like messing with the stories in my posts (minus grammar, typos etc), so it really upset me to find that post wiped.

Anyway.  Then I got sick.

The Bubs clocked me square in the jaw with his stupid "man-flu" plague.  Turns out "man-flu" is sometimes legit, who knew?

Anyway, the point is: 

  • My brain is on fire. 
  • I missed a ton of posts, some out of stupidity, others out of sickness.  It annoys me.  It's like New Year's resolutions or giving up stuff for Lent: I. can. never. do. it!
  • Also, I'm sticking my head in the microwave oven if I have to hear one more Disney song (come on, Dreamworks wins every time).
  • Aaaaand a huge pity party is currently underway for each agonizing moment I spend clutched in the jaws of The Plague.

Reaper, Plague
The Reaper comes for those who shirk their duties.  **AHHHHHHHH**


Jim Reeve Says:
16 April 2012 at 23:07

Don't worry. The blogging community was very kind to me when I was sick last month. Just worry about getting better. Then when you feel better, you can start blogging more often.

theconnorchronicles Says:
17 April 2012 at 16:52

Ick, sorry you're stuck with the plague. Hope you're feeling better soon. Hubs should be waiting on you while you're sick...tell him I said so.

Hurry back!

Karen V. Says:
17 April 2012 at 19:30

Oh goodness! I was thinking you were making it out immune. Hoping you are over this thing ASAP!

Marsupial Mama Says:
18 April 2012 at 08:26

Thank youy so much everyone. I may have caught what Betty had cause I've spent the last 2 or 3 days not being able to keep anything down and doing a few "projectile" activities of my own.

Will be back when I stop vomiting and will answer backlogged comments as well.

Thanks again guys.

<3 Says:
22 April 2012 at 23:08

Love the blog. You have my vote (found you at Babble) xx

Floortime Lite Mama Says:
23 April 2012 at 17:11

oh no you poor darling
Feel better soon

Þorgerður Says:
29 April 2012 at 20:51

Hey hope you guys are ok..

Floortime Lite Mama Says:
1 May 2012 at 13:28

how are you feeling
many many hugs!!!!

Karen V. Says:
7 May 2012 at 21:31

Hope you are okay, my dear. I've been missing you and thinking of you often!

Marsupial Mama Says:
24 May 2012 at 06:26

Thank you guys so much!! I feel really silly for not having written my Hiatus post sooner, guess I shouldn't have gone off-grid after a "sickie" post.... **Feels sheepish**

You guys are awesome. Honestly, I can't thank you enough for being so supportive and great. I feel really blessed to belong to such a wonderful community.

Thank you so much, you guys always bring a smile to my face!!

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The Clod and the Pebble

"Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell's despair."

So sung a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet,
But a Pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:

"Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven's despite."

William Blake
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