It was Monday afternoon. The girls and I found ourselves heading out through rush-hour traffic to pick up Mark from the airport. Since the airport is more in the general vicinity of the temple than our house, I had come up with a master plan involving a picnic to eat on the temple grounds while having a family home evening lesson on the temple -- something I've been wanting to do for awhile since we've lived here a year and the girls have never yet seen the temple here. I thought I had everything planned to perfection. It was going to be such a special FHE!
So intent was I on getting things ready to create this memorable experience and getting to the airport on time, that I bustled the girls out the door in a hurry, forgetting to change our in-the-middle-of-potty-training Jane into a diaper for the long drive and also blissfully unaware that I had forgotten to restock more diapers in the car after using my spares last week.
So of course it goes to follow that sometime during our 45 minute drive to the airport -- about the time that we encountered a massive, violent thunderstorm -- I begin to hear a plaintive wail from Jane, "Mama! I need to go to the bafroom!" Only realizing in that moment my utter lack of preparedness for such an event, and hunched over the steering wheel trying to concentrate on seeing the road ahead of me through pounding sheets of rain, I begin to mumble random encouragements to Jane, "Can you hold it? You can hold it! We'll find a bathroom very soon. You're doing such a good job of going to the bathroom in the potty . . ." But the wails continue, building in urgency, and I discover that my two-year-old doesn't know what it means to "hold it" responding with "What?" every time I use the phrase.
By then we are approaching the airport. Fortunately, Mark is waiting. We throw his things in the car and with him navigating, we soon find ourselves in the vicinity of the temple. Jane has been a hero and due to some miracle, has remained dry, and thanks to a nearby Subway, was able to take care of her business without incident. We then drive to the temple to discover that since it is Monday, the gates are closed (I should have known!). However, Mark notices a level gravel area next to the temple and decides, despite the very small (small means insignificant, right?) No Trespassing sign, to drive up the curb and park there, which gives us an excellent view of the temple.
Due to the sodden landscape, we open the back of the car, spread out our picnic in the back amongst our soccer gear, and begin to talk about the temple. We are just starting to get into the groove and enjoy ourselves when Mark looks up in alarm. En route from Idaho, he had apparently developed a slight digestive complaint and now he had an urgent need that couldn't wait. We were all sitting in the back, plates loaded with our dinner. Mark closes us all in the back (yes, without carseats, the need was just too great), gets into the driver's seat and again we make our way to Subway for Mark to use the facility, while the girls and I giggle, scrunched down in the back. We then make our way back to the No Trespassing zone, where we finish our lesson amidst requests to get out and run around and questions as to whether or not it was yet time to have brownies.
Even the best laid plans can go awry. At least the girls left asking when we could go back to the temple . . .
I asked the girls what they are thankful for:
