Just when I think I have it all figured out....

Less than one hour after I took this picture, this little guy was on his back in the MV ER, getting sewn together like a rag doll. A sad rag doll, by the way.

I have close to 300 pictures from our last jaunt to the island - but this is the one that makes me pause. I can't stop looking at it.

At the moment this picture was taken - if you'd asked me if Dec could conquer the world, I'd have said yes. Without hesitating, "Yes".

But in the hospital minutes later, as I held his tiny hand tight, wiped the crusty blood from his chin and read him boring stories from the kids water safety magazine we found in the lobby, I'd have had a very different answer.

He's a gentle, breakable, split-table, fragile baby.

How often we think we've got it all figured out.

How often I think that my hours spent planning each bit part, or managing each minute will give me more control - only to find that I have no control over any of it.

I'd had Dec's lunch made and waiting for him when Dame ran through the door shouting that we were on our way to the ER and to "grab the keys....quickly..."

Hard to swallow but important to note that it's not my job to have total control either.

My job is to save each memory scrap and kiss each memory scrape and wipe the dirt from banged up knees.

Oh and it's my job to enjoy it too. All of it.

Because just when I think I have it all figured out. I totally, totally don't.

Around each corner is a surprise. In this case, it came by way of blood-soaked tissues and big salty tears. And hours spent looking at gruesome food-clogged stitches and a mouth four times it's normal size.

Even though I'd planned for it to look something like a ham & cheese sandwich with a tall glass of chocolate milk.

(Followed by an afternoon at the beach.)

Oh well.