Emily’s Curio

The other day my two year old, almost three year old, threw a fit because something wasn’t going his way, and when I tried to console him he smacked me. I knelt down and took his hands and said, “It’s okay buddy,” as I smoothed his arms. He ended up letting me hold him for a while and his bad mood was gone.
The next day my husband got after my two year old for pulling the vent covers out of the floor and dropping things down into the holes. Robin shouted out, “Stop. Stop, Stop!” and whopped our two year old on the pockets. The little guy turned around and held his fathers hand and said, “Okay Daddy, Okay, luv you.” Robin said he felt like dirt.
When the cat came in it pounced on our two year old as he was escavating under the table. The little guy let out a concerned whimper as the cat stuck to his head. I put my foot in between his head and the cat. The cat grabbed onto my foot and began attacking it playfully. The toddler saw what wa going on and called out, “No, Stop. No Stop, cat. No no, Mommy.” and started to cry. I realized that he thought the cat was hurting me. How interesting that he didn’t cry when the cat was attacking him. It’s another one of those moments when you realize how you should be.
At church our little guy was starting to get antzy. He moved and wriggled out of his fathers arms and I picked him up. He hit me a couple of times and I held his hands and cery seriously said, face to face, ‘Don’t hit.’ He looked at me with a skeptical expression. I tried to make him smile but he wouldn’t budge. I tried again and when I thought he would hit me again, he instead threw his arms around me and hugged me.
We shouldn’t call this age terrible?

I remember when I had one kid and thought raising kids was easy.
I remember when I had two kids and thought that raising kids was a challenge.
I remember when I had left the bread in the oven because we didn’t have a bread box and the next day I warmed up the oven for a meatloaf and burnt the bread.
I remember when I first yelled out loud over something and scared my little toddler.
I remember when I was pregnant and couldn’t seem to stop being clumsy all over the kitchen. I tried to put flour into a bowl without spilling. I spilled and went to wipe it up and knocked over some sugar. I brought the garbage can under the counter to scoop the little mess into it and missed it completely, I bent over to wipe it up and knocked the garbage can over. I kicked the garbage can as hard as I could and my husband came in, concerned, to help me. I ended up crying. He lovingly took me to sit down elsewhere in the house and cleaned up the little flour and sugar I couldn’t seem to get.
I remember when I first had my child sleep in another room at night and I ran to his room early the next morning to be there when he woke up.
I remember the first time i woke up in the middle of the day and realized I had fallen asleep folding laundry.
I remember the first time my husband cried.
I remember the first time I saw my husband after two weeks of hard school and work and I cried and we hugged each other for a long while.
I remember when my husband thought I was depressed. I remember how I answered him after he carefully told me he thought I was depressed.
I remember how my husband was always so careful with me through those tender times.
I remember feeling tender toward him during his hardest year of school.
I remember when I found out I was pregnant with our third child.
I remember the Christmas we didn’t get anything and we were still happy.
I remember our first accident.
I remember our first scare.
I remember when we had a heated discussion, but I don’t remember what it was about.
I remember the first batch of cookies I ruined, and the cake I tried to make especially for him with the last three eggs in the house, and it burnt. I remember how I cried and how he tried not to smile.
I remember so much.
And it’s only been six years…..

I was talking with some mothers about the kinds of messes a kid can make in a day. It wasn’t too surprising that we wanted a break from it every now and again. We had to laugh about the irony of the kinds of things kids can do in their toddler years. We also started reminiscing on some of the things we used to do when we were just a bit older than our kids.
I remember my brother and I smearing creamy peanut butter on the sheet of our younger brothers bed and waiting for him to come lay in it.
When he came in to go to sleep he didn’t even notice he was in a mess. My other brother and I tried to control our laughter as we thought about him discovering the mess. We eventually fell asleep.In the middle of the night we awoke to our brothers surprise. It took us a while to remember that we were the reason.We got into a lot of trouble, which we knew we would, but for some reason we didn’t care.
Two of my brothers smeared crisco across the kitchen floor and slid on their knees across it.
My two older sisters poured out the economy size bottle of shampoo into the tub and played in it.
My friend was upset at someone always asking if she got a picture of her kids messes. when I think about it, it’s probably the best way to get through them, by documenting them. It helps you laugh.

A while ago I heard my husband talking about something we experienced, but he used the words, I, me, my, while he shared it. I have used we, us, ours, when talking about experiences and I started wondering whether I should be more first person in my conversation. Funny thing, I heard him use We, us, and ours, right after I started trying to use I, me, and mine more. Ha ha.
We have a friend who, every time she is mad at her children, yells out to their father, “Your son…..!”  One day Robin was frustrated with a mess our youngest had made. When I asked what his groan meant he said with a smirk, “Your son made a mess.”

“Love is one of the chief characteristics of Deity, and ought to be manifested by those who aspire to be the sons of God. A man filled with the love of God, is not content with blessing his family alone, but ranges through the whole world, anxious to bless the whole human race. ”
Teachings of the Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith, chapter 28

I watched two shows recently that I thought were worth recording.
The Errand of Angels, a show about an LDS sister missionary who learns an important lesson. I appreciated it, its message, and the actors abilities to bring across all that was anticipated. I watched it about 70 times, and bought a copy for each of my moms, and a few friends.
The other was a Christian film called, Fireproof. I watched it with my husband, a good friend suggested it to me, as it had been suggested to her, and my husband and I were both touched by it’s message and the passion the actors emulated in their respective parts. Not much was mentioned between my husband and myself about the movie when it was over, but I did enjoy watching his tender ways toward our children and me during the rest of the day, even on to the next.