Hi. My Name Is...

Mother.
Aka: door mat.

August at the lake in my make shift swim suit--tank top and sports bra--b/c my belly wouldn't fit in my regular suit and my maternity suit was still huge.

Don't you love waking up early in the morning, rolling your swollen 8 3/4 month pregnant belly out of bed to discover your five year old has peed the bed (which is a rare and understandable occurrence...he is five)? You then proceed to rip off the sheets, mattress cover and comforter to wash (all while leaning over the bed, attempting not to fall on your face--keep the massive belly in mind). Fine. That's all fine and good. But then the bed wetter decides to give you attitude and talk to you like you are annoying and demanding (I wanted him to sit in the bath and rinse off his legs and bum before putting his school clothes on). Sometimes I wonder if he thinks I purposely try to make his life complicated and uncomfortable.
In the mean time, Max decides to wake up in tears because his brother ran away and left him (poor baby was referring to James' stripped bed and absentee brother). Any other morning I would have thought his cry fest was endearing but not this morning. I told him his brother had not abandoned him, he was in the tub and then instructed Max to go lie in my bed for a minute.

But then your three year old sits down next to you on the couch (after the tiring walk with aching feet and groin and heavy belly to James' school and back) and says, "Mom, you wanna talk about Heavenly Father and His commandments?"
Or when he tells you he wants to marry you and you ask him, "What about Daddy?" and he responds, "Yeah, he can come."

Thank goodness for those tender moments. It seems that the tired feet, heavy belly, and achy body disappear--even if only for a few moments.