Why?

Why is it that every day for weeks as I drive by my college I see a morbidly obese person crossing the street (and never the same one twice), but once I mention this to my sister-in-law, I don’t anymore?

Why is it that mothers think 4:55PM is the best time to call a school to schedule a complicated college visit for their child?

Why is it that my stomach itches so intensely these days that I can’t think of much else and wake myself up in the middle of the night scratching it?  (I know the answer to this one, but I still ask, ‘why’?)

Why is it that if my dishes and laundry are done I experience a peace that passes almost all understanding?

Why is it that if I ask my husband every night if he’s set his alarm, he already has, but if I take one night off, invariably that’s the night he forgets?

Why is it that the thought of labor and delivery doesn’t really faze me, but the thought of my first day at home alone with a real, live baby is terrifying?

Why is it that God gave us a low-paying teaching job that couldn’t have made us happier after a year of searching, until the dream orchestra job came along two weeks later that we had to turn down?

Why is it that any woman who has a child feels the irresistible pull to share her pregnancy horror stories with first-time moms-to-be?

Why is it that my Fantasy Football team is inextricably tied to the fate of the Buffalo Bills?

Why is it that chai latte always tastes better in October than in July?

Why is it that my closest friends live so far away and we can’t see each other more than a precious few times a year?

Why is it that in a year or so I will have a toddler running around, asking incessantly, “Why, why, why?”

Why is it that I can’t wait to lay eyes on that to-be toddler?