September 28, 2010

The Cry Of The Children

Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows, The young birds are chirping in the nest, The young fawns are playing with the shadows, The young flowers are blowing toward the west— But the young, young children, O my brothers, They are weeping bitterly! They are weeping in the playtime of the others, In the country of the free. Do you question the young children in their sorrow, Why their tears are falling so? The old man may weep for his tomorrow, Which is lost in Long Ago; The old tree is leafless in the forest, The old year is ending in the frost, The old wound, if stricken, is the sorest, The old hope is hardest to be lost: But the young, young children, O my brothers, Do you ask them why they stand Weeping sore before the bosoms of their mothers, In our happy Fatherland? They look up with their pale and sunken faces, And their looks are sad to see, For the man’s hoary anguish draws and presses Down the cheeks of infancy; “Your old earth,” they say, “is very dreary; Our young feet,” they say, “are very weak! Few paces have we taken, yet are weary— Our grave-rest is very far to seek. Ask the aged why they weep, and not the children, For the outside earth is cold, And we young ones stand without, in our bewildering, And the graves are for the old.” “True,” say the children, “it may happen That we die before our time. Little Alice died last year—her grave is shapen Like a snowball, in the rime. We looked into the pit prepared to take her: Was no room for any work in the close clay! From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her, Crying ‘Get up, little Alice! it is day.’ If you listen by that grave, in sun and shower, With your ear down, little Alice never cries; Could we see her face, be sure we should not know her, For the smile has time for growing in her eyes: And merry go her moments, lulled and stilled in The shroud by the kirk-chime. It is good when it happens,” say the children, “That we die before our time.” Alas, alas, the children! They are seeking Death in life, as best to have; They are binding up their hearts away from breaking, With a cerement from the grave. Go out, children, from the mine and from the city, Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do; Pluck your handfuls of the meadow-cowslips pretty, Laugh aloud, to feel your fingers let them through! But they answer, “Are your cowslips of the meadows Like our weeds anear the mine? Leave us quiet in the dark of the coal-shadows, From your pleasures fair and fine! “For oh,” say the children, […]
June 19, 2010

Bacon

Everyone loves bacon, I have even seen where it has been said even vegans love bacon. I don’t know about that, so excluding the vegans, we all love bacon. A man named Neil Caldwell created colored bacon. I’m not kidding, he did. Look.. Doesn’t that look just so yummy? It looks gross! I don’t think I would be too happy if someone came up to me to put my plate down in front of me and there was purple bacon on the plate. I think the purple looks the worst out of them all. Has anyone tried this yet? Sue 1-888-430-2010
June 5, 2010

Swinging On My Cord

I went to a baby shower on Friday and this poem was printed on the napkins. *laughs* What a place to put a poem such as this. Shows the type of humor my friend has. On a side note she looks like a ripe watermelon. I just had to share this with all of you. Love you Much, Mommy Sue 1-888-430-2010 I wish I was a foetus I never would be bored Sitting in my uterus Swinging on my cord. To worry obstetricians I’d be a proper beast I’d change position on the hour Transverse, oblique then breech. To student midwives I’d present A mystifying case I’d hide myself inside the os And leave an empty space. I’d tie my cord into a knot And wave it through the cervix I’d give the midwives such a shock And laugh off all my vernix. And when my membranes rupture I’d be a right old pest Presenting large diameters I’d transversely arrest. I’d tell my pal placenta To get himself detached To theatre then the lot of us Would pronto be dispatched. And when they start to caesar I’d laugh and think “Tee hee!’ When no-one else is looking I’ll come vaginally.
May 15, 2010

Uber Baby Shower

Look at these pictures.  I can’t help but think of Sissies when I see this. This is a Pretty In Pink Baby Shower.  I love the napkin holders, little pacifiers, what a great idea!  All of this is so lovely, I can’t help but think that when all the ladies that were in attendance showed up their mouths dropped open, especially the Mom to be.  I can also see a few dozens Sissies sitting around the table in their prettiest dresses, being so demure and Lady like and giggly. Mommy Lizabeth 1-888-430-2010
February 28, 2010

What Baby Needs

*a crib *crib sheets *waterproof mattress covers *bumper pads *light blankets *a car seat *bottles *nipples *bottle brush *formula *baby towels and wash cloths *baby soap and shampoo *cotton swabs *lotion *thermometer *zinc oxide for diaper rashes *diapers and wipes *T-shirts *sleepers *socks *bibs *a stroller *a tote bag And Mommy Lizabeth has them all. Liz 1-888-430-2010
February 21, 2010

Lazy Sunday

Football has ended and now there is nothing on.  *sigh*  It’s like coming down from a high, and you know you will not be able to re-up for a long time.  So now I am sitting here wishing that I had something to do.  And to make matters worse my bf is out of town on business.  It’s a boring day, the only thing that is even keeping me from crawling up into bed and sleeping the day away is the fact that I have been doing calls with all my sweet ones today.  Thank you, thank you, for giving me a smile every time the phone rings.  You all make it better. *kisses and hugs to you all* Mommy Lizabeth 1-888-430-2010
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