No Ice Storm  For us, anyway. Do pray for those in the southern midwest who have been hit with the big ice storms.  Ice storms are way worse than snow storms. Big trouble.

Overwhelmed That’s how I was feeling, especially yesterday.   Defining moment: wanting to just sit down and cry, but eyeballs hurting too much to make it worth the bother.   I guess it isn’t exactly good news, but maybe consoling to some.  It’s easy for us to always have our happy faces on in public — when you’re miserable, you hide at home — and that habit can make it seem as if the housewives with public lives, whether writers or speakers or group leaders or whatever, are always so pulled together.   As if this business of raising a family is really just so easy if you would only put your mind to it.  Oh, and maybe if you had more faith, prayed better, and didn’t eat so much chocolate.

So the good news is this:  If it seems like things are hard, maybe it is because they are.  You aren’t alone.

Dangerous Prayers  One of the reasons I was feeling overwhelmed was sleep-deprivation.  Not the obvious kind, where you’re up all night and therefore you know you need to catch up on sleep as soon as you can.  Rather, this was the sneaky kind that accumulates slowly over a week or two, as you miss half an hour here, a few minutes there, and next thing you know, you are very very tired, with no plans laid for how to fix it.  So that was part of it — sleep-deprivation makes me depressed.  Got some extra sleep, am feeling much better.

But there was something else, too, that happened.  And it happened twice, which will show you I am not a very quick learner.   I was reading yesterday in Butler’s Lives of Saints (the 1956, personal preference, plus it’s the one I happen to have on hand), and I read the biography of St. Apollo.  He was an abbot, and lived circa 395.  I like to read about obscure saints because their biographies are so much shorter — quicker to get through, easy on tired brains.  Anyhow, this struck me:  "He made it his constant petition to God that he might know himself and be preserved from the subtle illusions of pride."

So, was I happy to just say "oh, that’s nice" and put down the book and move on with my life?  No.  I thought, "Oh, that looks like a good idea.  I should do that."  So I did it.   Next thing I know, there I was, completely overwhelmed.  It wasn’t until a few hours later that I sat down (not crying — remember, the eyeballs were sore — but wanting too) that I remembered what I done.  Oops.  Well, Mrs. Castle Lady, Suddenly getting a view of what you can manage on your own power, perhaps?  Of course it’s overwhelming!   I was grateful for the answered prayer, but it that didn’t exactly make things better. 

Moral of the story: It is not a bad prayer, but a risky one.  And of course I went to go dig up the name of the saint before I blogged, and what did I do?  I re-read the biography (like I said, it’s short), once again thought it  seemed like a good idea, so I prayed it again.   And I had a Sunday morning to prove it.   Knowing me,  I’ll probably do it again sometime. 

A New Baby!  Late this morning things took a turn for the better.  I received the news that my newest godchild was born yesterday evening.  It’s a boy, yet un-named.  I made him (thought until last evening to be a her, but luckily I used yellow and green) some little experimental baby mittens, but have not yet delivered them.  Fortunately the new godboy was not born with long fingernails, and is therefore not scratching himself to pieces on account of my slow knitting.

A Growing Baby!  SB turned six months.  Those who have met the SuperHusband will not be surprised to learn that she is tall and thin.   She gets her big puffy cheeks from my side of the family though, which combined with a winning personality (all her own) is a source of some distraction at Mass.  Not to mention her new-found love of making VERY LOUD screeches of happiness during the Consecration.  Must be that "using your gifts" Father preached about today.

Overheard On The Family Bike Ride  Says LP, age 4, about halfway through our ride around the neighborhood yesterday afternoon:  "Look mom!  I’m not complaining!!  Yes!!"  Once again making me the proudest mommy in the world.   Also,  I saw an owl. 

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