Why me God?

It is the classic question. I have not asked it many times in my short life but sometimes it just seems like I can't get away from it. I have read all of your blogs. So sweet and full of nice sentiments about your families and life. Kristen talks about the priesthood, Brooke about her love of baking and pumpkin, Katie talks about how much she loves her little girl (and the wolves). What is wrong with me? I feel like I am consistently negative. Sure sometimes I can laugh, but sometimes I am just depressed. It has been a rotten week. The only good part about it in fact is that it has been so bad that now I have no reservation in sending Luke to school and Evie to preschool. When I talk about what has happened I always think back and say "Well that wasn't so bad, those were just a few little moments in a long week." But it doesn't help. I love my children and every time I hold them I love them like I might never get to hold them again. At the same time I don't think I was cut out to be their mother. I really believe I might need to be institutionalized. On that note I will embrace, reluctantly, that my life will never be like yours.
On Monday I went to Sam's Club to pick up a few things. I took all three kids, which I try to avoid at all cost. The first time Luke went missing, It didn't even faze me. I looked for 15 minutes before I finally went to Customer Service for help. "CODE ADAM" they announced over the intercom and all the employees went running around looking for my little boy. It was embarrassing and I have thick skin. When Luke went missing the second time in the same trip to the store I was bound and determined not to ask for help. I looked and looked. He was nowhere. Finally one of the associates saw me without him and asked "Is he missing again?" She helped me look and the search got wider with more people involved. We checked the bathrooms, the closets, the back rooms, everywhere. Half and hour later there was still no Luke. I was in tears and truth be known (this was a scary realization of how desensitized I am) I was not crying because I was worried about my son, I was crying because I was so dang mortified and hated the looks people were giving me, the mother, who lost her son....Twice. The whole store went out on a search, as everything had already been checked multiple times to no avail. Finally I hear "What is that child doing up there?" Luke had climbed up to the top shelf, up to a play set on display and had disappeared in side. "I was hiding from you mom!" Was all he said. I put a dog leash on around his waist and listened to him scream the rest of the way out of the store. (He sounded a little like golam when Sam puts the rope around his neck) He had been hiding from me about 40 feet off the floor. Nice.
The rest of the week had it's normal ups and downs. As part of our nightly ritual Luke grabs a flashlight and heads out to the chicken coop to say goodnight to the chickens. He must climb inside the coop to do this because he likes to rock each one and sing them "Rock-abye-baby". After about 10 minutes I was tired of waiting and took Evie inside. I sent Andy outside a little while later to check on him. He was screaming on the ground. Apparently he had fallen out of the chicken coop and scratched his cornea. His eye has been swollen shut for several days now.
Yesterday was the kicker. We went to Swiss days up in Heber. Last year we lost him twice, so this year we made him wear his dog leash. He hated it and fought and screamed, learned how to get it off and would run. I decided to put it on his shirt tag and tie him to the tree for a bit so I could eat. (How inhumane!) He just ripped his tag out of his shirt. I was tired by the end of the day. We left early, stopping at the port-a-potties on the way out. Luke went in a stall and I went in one. When I came out Andy still hadn't seen Luke. I banged on the door, no answer. I was sure it was him so I tried to jimmy the door open. The maintenance guy said jokingly. "Hope he didn't fall in!" I opened the door to find two feet sticking out of the toilet hole. Luke had been reaching in to grab the poops and put them in the urinal. Why? We still don't know. I remember thinking "I wish I had my camera, this would have made a great picture for my blog." Andy was worried he could have drowned. I was not so concerned, it wasn't too deep he would have just had a nice swim and we would have come in to find his head and not his feet sticking through the toilet hole. At this point I just gave up. Why even bother trying to live a normal life anymore?
Andy said as soon as we got to the car. "If I hadn't just pulled my son out of a toilet I might have considered having another baby." We'll see. Pray for my sanity please.