Yesterday, we had the opportunity as a family to go the Mesa Temple. Our sister-in-law went through for the first time, and we went down to be there with her.
Because our planning skills are pretty much the worst, everything was last minute. We didn’t get a sitter, and so I sat outside with the kids during the session while my husband went in to be with his brother.
It ended up being a good thing because the session took quite a while, and I couldn’t have gone that long without paying a visit to the bathroom. Even my daughter was amazed at how many bathroom trips we took.
I tell ya: the longer I’m pregnant, the less crazy Depends seem.
Gross? Maybe. But not if you’re almost 30 weeks pregnant.
I’ve waited outside the same temple once before while my husband went in. We were engaged, and I hadn’t taken out my endowments yet so I couldn’t go in with him. I waited patiently outside while he sat with his cousin (who was taking out his endowments) inside. A few hours later, my husband came out of the front rotating door, enveloped me in a hug (he gives the BEST hugs. And I’m not just saying that to gush. He really can fix so many things with those hugs), and said, “I hated being in there without you… it just felt wrong.”
And he hugged and hugged and wouldn’t let me go, and I giggled and smiled and we kissed.
It was all very precious.
And then.
Eight years later.
I sat outside (and in the Visitors’ Center) and waited and made the kids pick up their trash and pulled their feet out of the fountain, and told them to stop swallowing their gum and that we DO NOT chew up our apple and then SPIT IT OUT on the Temple Grounds, slapped mosquitoes and went to the bathroom, once, twice, thrice, and told them to stop running and to get off this and don’t stand on that and MOM CAN’T CHASE YOU WHEN SHE’S FAT and then… when even angry birds wasn’t enough to keep them from winding in and out of railings…
My husband came out.
“How ya doing?” He asked.
“I’m fine,” I think I tried to say through the sweat and gritted teeth.
He didn’t try to hug me, and thank goodness. Because if he would have TOUCHED me, I would have slapped someone. When you have to pee THAT BAD… you DO NOT want to be touched anywhere, especially when there’s a little she-goblin bouncing on your bladder.
As we drove home late last night, I joked about eight years ago. The hugs, the kisses, the sweetness.
“I have to admit that I was a little bummed that you didn’t come out and fall all over me like you did eight years ago,” I said, “Then again, you didn’t exactly come out and greet the same girl you did eight years ago.”
He laughed so hard I’m surprised we didn’t wreck.
Ah, love. Thou are the master of change.
And children.
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