Okay, so: Lots and lots of Snot...and shite

I haven't posted: the boys were sick with a cold for a while. I think I saw every color of snot known to man...and it call came out of my kids' noses. I think I've also seen every color shite known to man...and it's all come out of my newborn's bum.

On top of battling the common cold -- in August -- I've been dealing with a newborn who cries nearly every second of the day when not asleep. We've been wondering if food allergies are to blame. Is it dairy? Is it gluten? Could it be corn? Maybe it's tomatoes. Oh, I know...I'll just not eat anything and see how that works out. I think he may be allergic to air.

But this entire time, trying as it is, I've had this hymn stuck in my head. So I'm going to post it. Maybe it can be your light at the end of whatever tunnel you're stuck in.

It's a beautiful Irish hymn...and I adore it. If you can, try to find an audio version and listen.

But, for now, let the words be your rock.

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart,
be all else but naught to me, save that thou art;
be thou my best thought in the day and the night,
both waking and sleeping, thy presence my light.

Be thou my wisdom, be thou my true word,
be thou ever with me, and I with thee Lord;
be thou my great Father, and I thy true son;
be thou in me dwelling, and I with thee one.

Be thou my breastplate, my sword for the fight;
be thou my whole armor, be thou my true might;
be thou my soul's shelter, be thou my strong tower:
O raise thou me heavenward, great Power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise:
be thou mine inheritance now and always;
be thou and thou only the first in my heart;
O Sovereign of heaven, my treasure thou art.

High King of heaven, thou heaven's bright sun,
O grant me its joys after victory is won;
great Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
still be thou my vision, O Ruler of all.

Words: Ancient Irish hymn;
trans. Mary Byrne, 1905, and versified by Eleanor Hull, 1912