Go figure

On March 2 I set out to write a post that was all reflective and meaningful and whatnot about the one-year mark from the worst day of my life, a.k.a. the day I went in to the hospital. But I just couldn't get it right. Whatever I had to say came out maudlin at best, mopey at worst, with a little bit of "kids say the darnedest things" thrown in.

What really happened on Sunday was that I had a lot of flashbacks and a lot of "what-if" scenarios play out in my head. I also had some special time with Luke, which was especially important for me, because that day last year marked an unduly harsh separation from him. And of course I spent some time looking at Zach and feeling all gooshy and aw-shucks.

In the end, though, my conclusion about the day is...nothing. I literally have no wrap-up message, no neat little words of wisdom to make sense of it all. Suffice to say that I'm entirely humbled -- some days even steamrolled -- by the whole experience of having kids. I know now that the very idea of laying out your life plan and expecting it to fall neatly in to place is laughable and futile. The best you can do is set things up the way you want them to be, try to hold it together, and then brace yourself for the wacky things that come flying in your direction.

Case in point: Luke and I went to church on Sunday, and as we sat there in the pew, he was being especially affectionate and sweet. Finally he curled up in my lap, patted my arm, and then leaned in to whisper softly in my ear: "Mom, I never want to go to church again."

That leads us to the theme of today's entry, which is, things I just cannot for the life of me figure out:

-- Why has Zach been sick since October? He had creepy eye crud today, so I took him to the doctor, and it turns out that he has an eye infection AND another ear infection. Back on antibiotics we go (round 4, for those keeping score at home).

-- Why is Luke suddenly obsessed with the hazard lights in a car? He calls it the "emergency button." It is a real pain because we can't walk down the street or through a parking lot without him wanting to stop in front of each car and peer in the window until he can spot the button that controls the hazard light. Strange, very strange.

-- Why is there never, ever a morning when both boys sleep late? And by late I mean "past 6 am." One will wake up at 6 and the other will sleep in, or they both will wake up at 6, but it never works out so that I can stay in bed past 6. Anyone want to explain this to me?

Last, some quick color commentary from Luke to round out the randomness of it all:
I'm explaining to Luke about the blocked tear duct he had when he was an infant and how he had to have surgery to unblock the duct.
Luke: "Did I cry?"
Me: "Well, they gave you some special medicine to make you fall asleep right away so you didn't feel anything."
Luke: "You mean they shot me with a tranquilizer dart?"