Dona Nobis Pacem

"What is that?" my son asked, scorn and disgust splayed across his face.

We were at Mass this morning, listening to the song playing during the Offertory.

"That's Latin, for 'Give us Your peace.'" I said.

He looked, if possible, more annoyed that he was now aware he was listening to Latin, of all things. I was amused. And grateful. He focused my attention on those three words. If not for his impertinent question, those words would have floated on by, drifted up and away into the big dark wooden beams of the church ceiling.

* * *

It has been anything but peaceful around here. Three barfing babes, one sick husband, summer camps, chores, stress, mess...the usual.

Oh, and my daughter got three bug bites two nights ago. She's allergic, so they swell up dramatically. This time, she had one on each of her hands and one right next to her eye. Both of her hands were so swollen and stiff she couldn't use them; her left eye was completely swollen shut. She looked like someone had slugged her, hard. She's had an itchy, uncomfortable few days. She hasn't slept well. Translation: I haven't slept well.

Oh, and I'm also in that "it-sucks-to-be-a-girl" time, so I'm being pummeled by all manner of physical, chemical, and emotional sucker-punches. My whole self feels like Lola's swollen eye.

* * *

I'm trying to focus. Trying to get myself started on the right foot for the coming week. For me, this means making a list.

It's pretty, isn't it? Yeah, my handwriting gets super neat when I need order.

The trouble is, I can't figure out if this list is helping or if it's just clarifying the impossible and adding to my anxiety. I am **alternating between organizing and hyperventilating.

**(I just consulted an online thesaurus for synonyms for the word alternate: I found so many fantastic words that capture how I'm feeling that I decided just to keep alternate, and list my favorites here instead. So, in addition to alternating, I am also: lurching, careening, teetering, tergiversating, floundering, cycling, dangling, dithering, wobbling, and undulating. See how I couldn't pick just one?)

Whoever said domesticity lacks excitement clearly isn't familiar with the exhilaration of trying to raise a family, run a household, and have everyone's health and well being riding on whether or not you can cross things off your to-do list. (At least my current list avoids exclamation points, with one fun exception.)

I am daunted by my coming week, the busiest of my summer so far. I am craving peace, I am seeking protection from all anxiety, I am hoping I can get to Friday.

Pray. Exercise. Write. Those are the places I am starting each day.

I hope that works better than Put Away Clean Dishes. Fold Laundry. Wipe down bathroom. My usual way to start each day hasn't been giving me any peace at all lately.

Dona Nobis Pacem. Please.