mommy speaks...

sad reflection upon one's self...
I feel a little like Miss Hannigans (from Annie, for anyone who doesn't recall the term 'little pig droppings' the song 'little girls' and or the slouched stockings, laundry man fondling, woman of 1982 other wise known as Carol Bernette)
I woke this morning to a sound, a sound that made me cringe and recoil to the warm sheets surrounding me, it brought frustration to my pores and near profanity to my lips. I brought myself from the folds of my warm sanctuary stumbling into previously worn clothing push my birds nest mass of hair back on top of my head and fumbled down the hall towards that sound....That sound was the sound of giggling, or full blown laughter a sound a mother should find joyous I should want to bottle it for those long lonely nights when I am missing the young men who have wandered from there safe little bunk beds off to disturbing dorm rooms etc...I blame the poison that is keeping me from being the bright eyed mother I imagined and that poison oh that treacherous snake it come in two parts. First quilting and the second by no other name than Philippa Gregory with her historical novels I lay long into the night devouring like the words might melt from the pages should I return the book to my bedside table and let sleep take it's rightful place.

anyways.....the quilt is haft finished and the books darn good!
but come morning mommy wants to stay in bed.
do any of you indulge yourself long into the night and regret it come morning?


(I hope even an ounce of this made some sense I am writing it while quilting, snuggling the cat, downloading pictures of the last quilt and reading the dangerously intoxicating book under a sleep deprived spell causing my left eye to twitch just slightly. I am aware I lack punctuation in a dangerous way if anyone is interested in a completely unpaid editor position please let me know :)