Emily’s Curio

I am a lover of books. I love Caldecott, Newberrry, anything that looks interesting and anything my brother wants to put past me to veiw that he has written. I especially love the classics, children’s books, and books for youth.
I hooked my baby sister on Harry Potter books, thinking that it would get her rolling. She didn’t care to read anything else but Harry Potter books, even though I tried to get her to, and when the final book of the series came out she read it and went back to video games. Then I tricked her. I opened the pages of the book called, Fablehaven. It had been out for a while but I hadn’t picked it up until I had finished reading ten other books before it. To get my sister hooked I read to her the part where the diobedient brother sneaks into the forest and meets a haggard, toothless woman chewing on a rope outside a strange shed. The scene is so well written and so full of animation and humor that my sister opened the book and started from the begining. Even though she expressed little enthusiasm once the book was finished she has read the next two books more than five times each and she knows more about the story than I do.
Having this connection with my little sister, who is more than ten years my junior, has been quite the connecting point for us.
We are both artists and have even drawn a crude little comic book with all of our fablehaven, star wars, and Harry Potter characters in it. It may make it to the blog, and then again it may just be mentioned and quietly destroyed by some simple means. We’ll see.

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.

Well If I haven’t written for a year it’s because of all of the things that have been happening. We’ve moved into a house. we’re renting most of it, I have actually kept the place pretty clean and organized, and I have been teaching the kids how to read and how to write. Brigh is doing well, he can spell any letter you put in front if him and it almost looks exactly like it. Sometimes it is even readable. Then he can sound out each letter very well and even read three and some four letter words. I am proud beyond what I can say. Then KD gets involved, she is a smart cookie, and Chris is terribly good at scribbling circles and such.
I am a very proud mommy. I only hope that I can keep it up.

Some of the sweetest memories I have ever had in my life, that I often think about over and over again are:
When I worked nights at Wal-mart while I attended Southern Utah University, I got off early so I could drive home in time for Christmas day. I got to Vernal at around eight oclock in the morning. I sat down on the couch and dozed off. A while later I heard something plop down on the floor next to me. Then someone took off my shoes. I tried really hard to open my eyes. Then someone picked me up. I managed to open my eyes in time to see my little Brother T.R. laying a blanket over me. I think I cried because my mascara was streaked down my face when I finally woke. I was so tired. He was so tender.
Another time was when I was having a hard day because of some neighbors who were excluding me because of something I stood up for. I was having a hard time because one of those neighbors was a friend I loved. I woke up one morning after tossing and turning all night. My little son asked for breakfast and I chocked back some tears and said,  “In a minute I just need to pray.” I knelt down and cried that I knew I had done the right thing by standing up for what I needed to. I was having a hard time withthe rejection and needed a blessing to know I was loved. I ended the prayer and opened my eyes to see my little boy, two years old, on his knees next to me with his arms folded and his face so concerned. I hugged him and thanked him for praying with me.
Then, just recently, I went home to Vernal. I was so tired from caring for sick kids night and day. I myself was feeling the illness. After church I went to my dear Mom in laws home and laid my little tired baby on her bed. I thought, ‘I will just rest a minute.” I heard someone come in. I saw my mom in law walk quietly out and then later I felt something lay over me. I woke to find a light sheet laid over me. She had noted how warm ot was bit still wanted me covered.
I am so happy for these sweet memories, and the dear hearts who gave them to me.

Our little Daughter loves to hug bugs. We are always finding her with a little dead bug in her fingers. She kisses them, and hugs them. And she isn’t afraid to pick them up. During Easter she found a tree swarming with boxelder bugs. She was thrilled. She grabbed them one at a time and loved them to death. Litterally.
She has been found chaseing spiders around the cement walks. She searches for them. She caught a moth, and had a beetle in her other hand. I can see KD coming inside from playing outside, and I will have to check her pockets for critters, and hope that they weren’t smashed to death during the collecting.
It makes you worry about what she may try to catch unnoticed. How on earth do you help a kid to be aware of the danger.