Dear Emerson,

Dear Emerson,

Since this blog will be printed in a book, I realized that I could, in a sense talk to you as a future adult for a minute. The idea that I might actually be able to reason with you at some point seems far fetched and obscure to my frazzled brain, but I'm assuming you will grow up eventually because I know Heavenly Father loves me, and I have faith that he is not unaware of my little trials. Let me preface this by saying that I love you so much. Maybe that isn't as obvious when I get mad at you, which hopefully doesn't dominate too much of your memory, but I do love you, perhaps even more for your tenacity.

But, little dude, you are driving me insane.

You and Grace went with your Dad this morning to help get some work done at Grandma's house. Porter's asleep. The house is quieter than I've heard it in months. As I walked around trying to decide what to do with myself, I went into the living room and sat down. I don't go in there often, so I thought I would just sit. As I was realizing that I needed to clean goobers off the couches, I saw some suspicious lines on the sofa. I moved closer. Not just any marks, slashes. It looked like it had been done with a knife. I realized suddenly that the other day when you shuffled away from me, hands behind your back, and then slammed a kitchen drawer, that you must have been putting a knife away. You cut my leather couch. One of the last few things I have that still looks nice. (I realize at this point that I should be grateful that other catastrophes that could have, didn't happen, you running with a knife being the last of a list. Anyone who knows your dad well would remind me of a story about a knife making it's way into his eye when he was a child. Yes, I am grateful, but still frustrated.)

It's probably a good thing you're not here. I can deal with it when I've cooled down. I've already hidden the knives. They'll have to go in a secret place, along with all the markers, small flushable toys, and jewelry.

Your dad and I joke about making a spreadsheet of damages, just so someday you'll know. I was kind of reluctant, since you really aren't accountable for them, but I've decided it's fair that "reasonable Emerson" know some of the reasons why there are so many "psycho-mad mommy" memories. If anything, maybe it will clarify why you don't have much of a mission fund yet.

This list is from the last year.

Family Room window replacement $200.00
Carpet Cleaning $200.00
Sewage Stoppage $2500.00 (For the story, click to the left.)
Piano Repair $100.00
Family Room couches $1400.00 (from the first knife incident, and subsequent hide and seek game)
Couch Covers for above mentioned knife incident 200.00 (ruined by a scissors incident)
Paint $100.00
Burned Mattress at the Hyatt $200.00 (Click left for story)
Chandelier crystals $100.00
Curtain rods $30.00
Lost Wedding Ring $4000.00 (gulp) (Click left for story)
My favorite Vase $45.00
Misc (for anything I've missed) $100.00

Damages for the year... $9175.00

Again, I love you. I hope you never question that. But I hope that someday, when I'm old and senile, you might be a little more patient with me, because we're trying so hard to be patient with you.