The Man

The past couple of years it seems my days never start off quite the way I want them to. I really am a morning person. Deep down I'm one of those annoying women that go to bed at ten and are up reading scriptures or painting masterpieces by five. But the reality is...I have 13 children. Eleven of these blessed little people still sleep under the same roof as me. The problem is that they don't sleep at the same time.

Teenagers talk at night. A lot. And you can't get a word out of them when they wake up. So I stay up and listen. Two or three nights a week that means going to bed around 1 a.m. Then Miss Bella needs to nurse a couple of times, Sir Harley has an accident, or Miss Ivy has a nightmare. And then there is my wonderful Sir James who sleeps so soundly that occasionally we wake up to a giant thud as he falls out of bed completely dazed.

Nights are a challenge, but I am so grateful to be a mom. I'm so grateful that my children talk to me. I'm so grateful that I don't feel the need to use cloth diapers. I'm so grateful that we have a big bed. I'm so grateful that I can squeeze in a nap with the babies now and then.

My sweetheart is not so fortunate. He pretends to sleep through the carnival but I know better. Last night I found him asleep with a baby on either side of him. His big arms created safe little nests for my little ones. Then this morning he started out like every other morning. He rolls out of bed and his knees hit the floor before his feet do. He spends a long time on those knees. He thinks I don't know, but I do. I know he prays for me to have strength, I feel it. I know he prays that our children, Hermana Nichole and Elder Spencer will realize their potential as missionaries and representatives of Christ. I know he prays that he can be a better dad and a better husband.

I fall asleep while he gets ready for the day. He never complains. In fact, I've never heard him complain about going to work. Ever. Sometimes he jokes that he gets to go to work and wishes me luck. Usually, though, he just kisses me and whispers in my bed head hair that I'm beautiful.

You can't really know me unless you know me when I'm with him. Steve. My sweetheart. My best friend. The man that not only gives me wings to fly, but prays for wind so I can soar. The man that reflects eternity when I look into his eyes.