Never in my entire life have I been so exhausted.  Ever.  Babies not sleeping through the night have nothing on my life.  I’m not sure what it is and why I can’t get a handle on it, but I am spent.  And honestly not relaxed these days at all.  I’ve missed two birthday posts for my kids, have yet to blog one thing about what we did during Advent and have been somewhat of a grouch.

At confession last week, I arrived for the service that started at 7 late.  Like at 8:30.  They were packing up the place.  Where were all the sinners?  In the end it turned out fine, I had a great confession with a super priest who had some great counsel.  When I told him that I didn’t think life was supposed to be this way, he agreed.  I did manage to discuss some of the things that have been on my chest and rant a bit as well, always nice for me.  Especially when the person tells you that your feelings are justified.  

So yes, I’m a bit frustrated about life: some minor…kids that don’t mind (although is this really minor?!), people who don’t make the bed when I want them to do it…some large…hard times for people, selfishness that I see all the time, a child who refuses to check his work and a teacher I am sure is wasting our time at school.  There is a lot of sadness out there right now.

Then I think of my sweet boy’s words about St. Michael upon giving a medal to a young man leaving for boot camp.  “St. Michael will protect you always, he is fighting for you, to keep you safe from harm because he knows God loves you.”  The innocence as he said these words brought tears to my eyes as well as the mom of that young man.

Again, this same boy prayed in mass and wished with all his heart that those children could be back with their parents.  He prayed for those parents and even for the soul of the madman.  That is the boy I raised.  And that is who makes me proud.

Another child wrote the following about what it means to be Catholic during Christmas.  He’s in kindergarten.  And his understanding of Christmas and what it’s about is awesome.  If you can read his writing, you can see that he writes better than most 3rd graders and why I think his time in school thus far has been a big effing waste of time.  Because let’s be clear, no other child in that room writes like that yet, and no, he didn’t learn that at school.  (I can’t seem to get past that bitterness no matter how often I confess it, can I?)

Everyone says I need time for myself, and maybe I do.  I know few people who could handle being with Snax all day long without going crazy or possibly resorting to spanking.  I have yet to do either except maybe come close to losing my mind.  I’d like to blog more, not because I have anything profound to say, but because I have a lot of pictures and memories I’d like to preserve for us.  In the end, I know I have a good life.  Now I’d like to start appreciating it.