The Baby Bewitching Hour

A wise friend once told me of the phenomenon she had termed the "Baby Bewitching Hour".  You know, it's that hour (or two) before dinner when all babies freak out inexplicably.  (Note that sometimes the term 'baby' is applied loosley to include anyone deserving of it).

As of late, my baby bewitching hours have been particularly horrendous and I have found myself either in or near tears several nights this week.  Tonight was particularly bad and I ended up slumped on the floor of the kitchen as I finally let out the tears I have been bravely keeping in all week.

That's when little Caboose came toddling in wearing an innocent grin that lit up immediately when he saw me sitting at his eye level.  He came over and climbed into my lap, using me as a step-stool to reach for something he saw up on the counter.  Realizing he still wasn't tall enough, he climbed off and continued on his merry way.  (Did you notice the fact that the baby was merry?  Yes, the baby-like antics were not coming from the baby of the house tonight, though his  fascination for climbing on and falling off of the kitchen table repeatedly certainly did not help).

Even though my little breath of fresh air didn't stay with me long, it did bring a smile to my face and left me with a much-needed reminder of the beauty and innocence of children.  My stint on the kitchen floor also reminded me of a similar incident that occurred a year or so ago when I was pregnant with Caboose.

It was my hardest pregnancy yet and not even halfway through it, I noticed I was becoming monumentally overwhelmed by things that wouldn't normally phase me.  It was a tough winter and we had been bombarded with snow that never melted until there were four-five feet drifts crowding into the streets wherever you went.  I felt in a very real way that I was being buried alive.

It was in this frame of mind that I was asked to speak in church about the importance of children.  As part of my talk I wrote about a similar crying episode I had on the kitchen floor and what it taught me.  Luckily, I saved the talk and I went in search of it tonight to see if I could learn the same lesson again without putting too much effort into the thought process.  Here is my direct quote:

Children have a special gift of helping us to see things in a simpler way when adult issues seem to be pressing in on us from every side.  A few weeks ago I was having what we have now termed in our house as a P.I.E.B., or a Pregnancy-Induced Emotional Breakdown.  I was cooking dinner and had opened the drawer under my oven to get out a pan I needed.  The drawer has been broken for several months and always slides in a bit crookedly.  Well, this time, the drawer wouldn’t slide in at all.  I tried over and over again to get it to go back in with no luck until I finally burst into tears.  The oven drawer became instantly symbolic of all the things in my life that I couldn’t control, the most oppressive of which on that particular day was the ominous snow piles and ice dams on my roof that were just growing taller and taller each day, threatening to suffocate me.  Added to my inability to keep my house clean or get dinner on the table on time and a host of other things that seemed so important that day and it became quite a burden to carry.  My daughter (Plucky) witnessed the whole embarrassing episode because she loves to help me cook and is always right at my side in the kitchen.  She watched me crying for a few minutes, a little unsure as to what to do since this was a first for her.  Soon she looked at me and said simply, “(Plucky) loves Mommy”.  My sweet daughter couldn’t understand the things that were weighing me down, but she knew that the most important thing should be love.  And really she was right.  The love of a child is simple and pure, just like the love of our Savior.  None of those other things really mattered and I’m thankful for the children in my life that constantly remind me of the Savior’s love and what is truly important. 


Well, I'm glad I found the talk because my brain certainly wasn't headed in the same place tonight.  At this time of year especially, as we celebrate the birth of Christ, what better way is there to remember Him than to recognize the love of our children?

After Caboose toddled out of the room, the main offender tonight heard me crying and came into the kitchen, also in tears, and fell into my lap.  We both had things to apologize for and we did.  I am grateful for children who forgive me when I mess up and love me even when they have a reason not to. 

Going forward, I don't really know what to do about the baby bewitching hour.  It is what it is, I guess, and I'll just have to take it one day at a time.  As for today, I'm happy that it's over!