I hit the very lowest point of motherhood yesterday when I dragged my screaming kids out of chick-fil-a. Yes, my 5 year old was SCREAMING. James (no surprise) was throwing a fit. Thankfully, Ruth was asleep. For a whole minute the place was dead quiet as everyone in the restaurant turned their head to see what the commotion was. I have never been so humiliated in my life.
I guess the rewards of motherhood come in small doses, like when you see your baby roll over for the first time:
We had a little scare with David last weekend. He woke up with a huge fever, complete with hallucinations, shortness of breath, and rapid heart beat. When he told us that a choo-choo train was coming to take him to heaven, we were very alarmed. Thanks to priesthood power and Motrin we have our little David back.