A new year calls for a new game plan. And lots of chocolate. Don't ask me why the chocolate.

Well, I decided it was about time I posted my last blog of the year. To get all nostalgic and talk about how the last year went, and my 2009 New Year's resolutions and how cool I'll be next year. Then I remembered I don't like public sentimentality, and I haven't made any New Year's Resolutions. Bummer. So instead, I guess I'll just say that pretty much, this year has been all about Madeline, and probably every year from now on will be about Madeline, and you can imagine all the memories I'll miss from this past year of changing poopy diapers and not sleeping through the night and getting spit up on. And I'll keep the good memories to myself.

So much for 2008. Now it's time to move on to how cool I will be in 2009. Therefore, I am going to rapidly think of some resolutions to share with you. You can all breathe easy, knowing that these will all be accomplished one hundred percent by the end of January because of my marvelous self discipline.

I hereby resolve to use chocolate as a mood altering drug monthly in order to spare Jessie the emotional hurricane he usually endures.

I hereby resolve to learn how to make at least ten new yummy dishes to feed Jessie and ruin my diet.

I hereby resolve to let Madeline eat ice cream and chocolate more frequently than she should, even if it gives me guilt, because it will also make feel like a cool mother.

I hereby resolve to keep my stalking of people on facebook and blogs at a healthy level: in other words, I resolve to not tell people how much I know about them when I meet them in person.

I hereby resolve to read and watch a lot of movies and books that are wildly popular to the masses, despite the nervous breakdown this will probably cause me. Because Twilight really wasn't that horrible, for all my complaints.

I hereby resolve to cheat on my exercise program a few times a month. Because I'm being pretty good and I deserve a break from peppy exercise lady telling me I'm so smart when we both know I'm diving into a chocolate bar after I finish my aerobic walking, so who are we kidding.

I hereby resolve to actually use the sewing machine Jessie got me for Christmas, as a tribute to his sneakiness it making me absolutely sure he wasn't getting me a sewing machine.

I hereby resolve to be a graceful loser just once this year when Jessie beats me at Sequence or Phase 10 or Skipbo, whichever it may be. This does not applu to Settlers of Catan. I will never gracefully lose Settlers of Catan. Also, if Jessie beats me at California speed or Speed Scrabble this year, I am off the hook for ever being a graceful loser again. Or making him dinner, for that matter.

There you go. My fast track plan to making 2009 the best year ever. If any of you need help making your resolutions, don't look at me. I'll be too busy breaking half of mine.

I think vampires sabotaged my television

I just started reading the Twilight series, because I'm trying to work on my tendency to refuse to read/watch something just to avoid following the crowd. Jessie's been laughing his head off at me as I go, because I complain about how dumb they are every ten minutes, but I can't put them down. Basically, I acknowledge Meyer's writing skills and ability to create a riveting plot, but I am one hundred percent against teenage angst and sappy love stories. As in, if I hear Bella and Edward argue over who loves who more one more time, I'm going to hurl. And then egg Meyer's house. For the record, I'm totally opposed to the Romeo/Juliet concept, and I think a book about realistic true love would be exquisitely boring to everyone but the two people it detailed. Jessie challenged me to write a realistic love story that isn't boring. I'll get around to that when I have any spare time. So maybe when Madeline is fifty.

Speaking of Madeline, I think it's safe to say she got incredibly spoiled this Christmas. Basically, if she ever gets bored again, it's her own fault, because she's got enough toys to keep an army of toddlers happy. Jessie and I didn't make out too badly ourselves. In fact, we even sort of have television again, thanks to the rabbit ears my mother bought us. To celebrate the ten fuzzy channels we now receive and the return of technology from a more innocent time, our television decided to only show things in black and white. A sort of tribute to the television of yore. We're not quite sure why our television decided this was a good idea, or why our television is making decisions unilaterally that I think in all fairness should be mine and Jessie's to make, but whatever. I'll console myself with my access to FOX news and a batch of maple bells.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, sugar cookies

I'm really excited for Christmas. I mean really excited. I've been bugging Jessie for the past week. He says I'm like a little kid in the car who asks if we're there yet every five seconds. Oh well. I can't help it-there are many very good reasons to like Christmas. I'm not normally one for making lists, but I think I'll make an exception today in order to favor you with all the things I love about Christmas. Lucky you.

1. Food. Christmas means a lot of chocolate, cookies, especially maple bells, which are the most addictive little buggers on the face of the planet. They aren't diet friendly, but I don't care, because they are that good. There's also fudge and divinity, which is aptly named, as well as Christmas dinner. Frankly, even if there was nothing else to love about Christmas, I would celebrate it for the food. In fact, maybe I'll just invent a holiday to celebrate food. With none of this facade about gratitude you have at Thanksgiving. Just an all-out food fest.

2. Presents. And of course, I like getting presents myself, because who doesn't love free stuff? But mostly, this category is the presents I give away, because I get to think about those a lot longer and wrap them and shop for them and keep secrets from my family. Don't get the idea that I'm selfless or anything; it's purely a function of time. I open my presents in five minutes. One of these years I'm going to get Jessie something he won't be able to guess before Christmas ever gets here. The punk.

3. Family. I like to bug the heck out of them, and this is one more opportunity to do it when they can't run away because: Christmas is family time. So they have to tolerate me.

4. Christmas music. Once I get over my intense hatred for Christmas music in November, and realize around December 5th that it's actually okay to listen to Christmas music now, I remember how much I love Christmas music. And caroling.

5. Snow. For some freaky reason, there always seems to be snow on Christmas, even if there wasn't any for two months before and after. Which is how it should be. I don't think I could ever be one of those people who go celebrate Christmas in a tropical climate. It's just not natural. (Excluding the time we spent Christmas on the cruise ship a few years ago. That doesn't count. Because...I don't know why. But it doesn't count.)

6. Shopping. I don't normally like long shopping trips, because I don't have near the stamina of my mom and sister, who I am convinced could shop 24 hours a day from November 1st to New Year's and still think of some store they missed. But around Christmas, I like to be out a lot more. Maybe it's the long lines. That must be it.

7. Parties. Enough said.

8. Okay, I'll be serious for just long enough to say that I really enjoy the spirit you can feel during Christmas time. I love that everyone is thinking of other people and trying to be a little more Christlike. I love that we take some time away from all the things we have to do and focus on the important things.

Well, that about wraps things up. I hope all of you are enjoying the Christmas season as well, and gorging yourself on things that are bad for you, and having snowball fights, and driving your families up the wall. Because that's what Christmas is all about.

More escapades from the family miscreant

My daughter is a punk. We went to visit Jessie's mom yesterday, to play some games, drink some root beer, watch babies do funny things- the wild life. While we were there, I changed Madeline's diaper, but due to her excessive wiggling and general bad temper whenever you change her diaper (she howls like she's getting a tooth pulled or something), I didn't snap up the bottom of her pants. That was mistake number one. Then I let her crawl through a maze of chairs. Mistake number two. Somewhere in the crawling, she took off/lost her diaper. And, unaware of this grand feat, I snapped back up her pants so as to maintain her ladylike modesty. So Madeline got to go commando for an hour until I saw her sitting in a giant wet puddle on the floor, and said to myself, hmmm. That's not normal. Upon which, her deception was revealed, and everyone had a merry time, except Jessie, who had to clean up the pee puddle, and me, who had to clean up the wet baby. Sometimes Madeline is a little too smart for her own good.

Speaking of smart, Jessie decided to get me another present. Which presents a problem, because I still haven't figured out what the first two are. On the other hand, it now means there are three correct guesses out there, so theoretically, I have a greater chance of figuring it out. Theoretically. I think he just couldn't handle being done with the Christmas shopping either. It's a good thing there's only three days left and the stores are a mess, or I'd probably get sucked back in and spend more money on silly things like candy I don't like and unbreakable ornaments that Madeline knows how to break. That girl is SO going to be responsible for keeping her siblings away from the Christmas tree when she gets older.

Christmas is a great time to try as many ways as possible to injure yourself.

I love snowstorms when I'm at home, cuddled in a blanket, with a good movie and nowhere to go. I don't like driving in snowstorms. It's the one time I'm glad Jessie is the designated driver in our family. (Can you have a designated driver in a non-alcoholic family? Whether you can or not, we do. But I'd like to publicly state that I do not consume strong soda before driving. That would be irresponsible.) We got to drive down to Springville yesterday right before the storm hit, and on the way back we almost died. A lot. Mostly because people in Utah don't know how to drive in a snowstorm. My only theory is that they all just barely moved here. Yesterday. And thus haven't figured out that snow requires driving slowly and carefully, which is counter-intuitive, I know, but they'll figure it out in the end.

I also got to go to Salt Lake yesterday, which was a lot better drive, and help my mom make Christmas cookies for my slacker missionary brother, who thinks he has better things to do than spend all day making cookies. The first time I tried to pack the cookies for him, they all broke, which was very tragic. Because then we had to make more and I had to eat all the broken ones to destroy the evidence. It was hard, but I managed. Plus Bryce helped me a lot. He's surprisingly adept at stealing cookies with only one arm. Because he broke the other arm. Twice. I told him to stop trying to impress the girls at school by swinging from the ceiling, but you know elementary school boys. I'm just surprised he didn't break it playing kissing tag. My brother Dale, who currently holds the record for most broken bones in the family, conceded defeat for most spectacular break on a single occasion. Jessie, on the other hand, hasn't. He broke both of his wrists jumping off the trampoline as a kid, so he's a strong contender. I'm just glad Madeline hasn't seen fit to have any major catastrophes yet, because I'm bad with blood and bones and would probably be puking in the bathroom while she's sitting there screaming because she broke her legs while trying to do gymnastics down the stairs. Then I'll call my mother.

Madeline invites you to PICTUREFEST!

So I guess it's time for the gads of pictures you've all been waiting for. Brace yourself, they are mostly of Madeline. As the cutest Warner, we have appointed her the official face of the family, and hope you will appreciate Jessie and I working quietly behind the scenes, doing everything else besides looking cute.

Here is our happy little family attempting to look Christmasy. Note that Madeline, is indeed, the cutest; and then note Jessie's awesome tie, which he won at a white elephant game in our married student ward in a hard fought battle. Everyone wanted that tie. But Jessie, being the selfless, giving person he is, stole it out from underneath all of them and kept it for himself.


Here's Madeline, not smiling. She doesn't like posing as an elf, and only smiled when we were busy doing ridiculous things in order to amuse her and not paying enough attention to actually press the button on the camera. Many thanks to Grandma for the cute Santa suit.


This is Madeline getting into places she shouldn't be, which is a routine pastime. This time it's the pantry, although I'll admit, Dad might have aided and abetted her on this one. She doesn't seem to mind though. She found our water storage fascinating.


Tada. She really can stand by herself. She even steps now and again. But mostly she's chicken and sits down at every opportunity, because crawling is obviously the stylish mode of transportation right now. Everybody's doing it. Okay, so maybe it's just Madeline. But she's not afraid to make her own style choices. As you probably noted from the lack of pants. (Her choice, not mine.) A bold choice, but I think it's working for her.


This concludes the Warner Family Picturefest for today. Madeline thanks you for your time and interest, and reminds you that donations to the "Buy Madeline Pants" fund can be made in the front lobby, by check, cash, credit card, or cookies.

Maybe Jessie can learn how to detect a sick baby.

So I'm officially almost done with Christmas shopping. Which would be cooler if it was officially all the way done, because the stores are getting scarier. Trust me, I went to a lot of them today. Madeline didn't like that at all. Mostly because I don't let her crawl around on dirty store floors because I am mean and sort of hygienic. Madeline has been mad a lot lately. I think she is either a) getting more teeth, b) getting a really bad case of separation anxiety, or c) both of the above and maybe also being sick. You'd think as a mother I would have some inner radar that would start blinking red when my baby is sick, but I think my radar is broken. Aside from sticking a thermometer in her ear, which makes her mad and confirms her suspicions that I am a mean mommy, the only way I know to tell if she's sick is if she has a visibly running nose or a lot of excess crankiness. Unfortunately, there are a lot of things that cause excess crankiness in an eight month old, so we're down to a runny nose and a thermometer that may or may not be reading the right temperature due to a wiggly baby. Probably she's had five colds and the flu and meningitis and hepatitis and tetanus and polio and the plague and I never noticed. Except the one cold where her nose was running. At least she's developing lots of good antibodies. And learning to suck it up, which will be useful later on, I'm sure.

I'm starting a new paragraph now for Jessie. He doesn't like when I write really long paragraphs. I think he needs to improve his reading level. Perhaps he already knows this, and that's why he's going back to school next month. So they can teach him how to read my blogs. And how to play Speed Scrabble better so that I don't smash him every time. I'm a little afraid of him going back to school, because he'll be working full-time and doing school full-time, and I'll have a lot more time to twiddle my thumbs and wonder why I'm not working on being more domestic. Maybe I'll use the extra time to learn how to write shorter paragraphs.

I dream of Jessie. And Pikachu.

Apparently I have been trying to kill Jessie while he is sleeping. As in, last night I tried to put my pillow on top of his head. And when that didn't work I covered his mouth with my hand. I don't remember any of this, but Jessie assures me it is true. I actually think Jessie is a cool person with a lot to contribute to the world and have had no real homicidal tendencies up to this point in my life. Also, at the time I was dreaming about working as a WalMart cashier and watching my dad open up a Christmas present. An electronic pacman game, to be exact, connected to a giant fluffy blue edible head. So, as you can see, that has nothing to do with trying to smother Jessie. Unless I thought he was the giant blue edible head. Which only raises more questions.

My dreams are usually cool like that. I wake up and tell Jessie my dreams, and he thinks it's better than television. Mostly because they're always completely random. Like the time I dreamed I was inside a giant castle, which strangely resembled an LDS chapel. Aliens ripped off the wall and tried to abduct us all, to replace our limbs and make us part of a giant Pokemon fighting ring. I escaped with Pikachu on a flying couch. Weird, right? Because obviously if we were in a church it should have been a flying pew or something.

(Disclaimer: The fact that I was dreaming about Pokemon can be blamed entirely on my brothers' obsession and not because I was a voluntary participant in any type of Pokemon related activity.)

Mean mommies deserve really big Christmas presents

Recently Madeline has taken to shutting me in places. Mostly the bathroom and the pantry. Unfortunately, she doesn't quite grasp the idea that shutting the door will make me inaccessible until after she's done it. Then she raises the roof because I have ABANDONED her. Which was cruel of me. Almost as cruel as refusing to let her eat toilet paper or changing her poopy diapers. Clearly, I am a sadistic mother. On a good note, she thinks I am nice when I let her drink ice water and pour it down her clothes, or when I let her have bits of chocolate when I am sneaking Kit Kat bars. So our relationship is stable for now.

In other news, Jessie bought me a present which was shipped to our house today. I keep trying to get him to tell me what it is, but he's rather reticent to spill the beans. Which I think is kind of hypocritical, considering he wanted me to tell him where I hid his presents so that he wouldn't accidentally find them. I have gotten him to reveal that he has NOT bought me a sewing machine. Which I need, but don't really want because it would force me to be domestic. He wouldn't comment on whether he had bought me a live dolphin. I think I might be on to something there.

My daughter and my husband are completely self-sufficient. Drat.

Madeline decided she can feed herself. I blame Jessie. He gave her a spoon and helped her figure out how to use it. Or rather, how to use it just enough to make a mess. So last night, when I was trying to feed her delicious ham and rice, it went something like this. Mom loads the spoon with yummy goodness. Madeline refuses to open her mouth and twists her head around farther than should be humanly possible. Mom puts the spoon in Madeline's hand, and Madeline's mouth pops open. Mom has to reload the spoon, because Madeline would rather get the food out of the jar with her hand. Mom once again tries to put the spoon into Madeline's mouth, and is thoroughly rejected because Madeline is old enough to feed herself, thank you very much. Repeat until Madeline gets so tired that her eyes are half open, and she doesn't care who is shoving the food in her mouth as long as they do it quickly so she can go back to sleep.

In other news, we made Christmas cards. For the first time in our married life. And, once again, Jessie designed them. (It's a good thing he's so manly, because he's also awfully good at creating adorable cards/scrapbook pages, as well as cooking, cleaning, interior decorating, and all other things that would stereotypically be my job. I told him that one of these days, I would learn to be the chief homemaker of the family, but in the meantime, I appreciate him filling in.) Because we are poor, pretty much only immediate family is privileged enough to get a printed version of our Christmas cards, but in the spirit of using technology and saving ourselves postage, we're sending out an e-version to any interested parties. And maybe eventually I will post it here, in order to make my blog look cute and festive and visual, because apparently I need to take more pictures. Or maybe I'll let Jessie do it and abandon all plans to retake my title as homemaker extrodinaire. It's a good thing he can't get pregnant, or I'd be completely out of a job.

Fake trees do not a fake christmas make. Because my husband said so.

I have written many a facebook status since that blessed institution has been introduced, mostly out of boredom. And most went unnoticed by the public eye. So I was surprised when my decision about whether to buy a real or a fake tree incited quite a few comments, most with decided opinions. I had never really realized before how passionate people are about this, um, "issue". For lack of a better term. Jessie and I didn't quite see eye to eye on it either.

I had grown up with a real tree, and had lots of quality memories of going to pick out a tree. We'd bundle up, sing carols on our way to the store, and then run amuck through the tree lot, searching out the perfect tree. And invariably argue, since there were four of us kids with opinions that never matched. But that was part of the fun. And eventually we would somehow agree, and drag the tree home on the top of the car. And eventually get around to decorating it. We all got a new ornament every year, so we each had our own bag of ornaments to put on the tree. And mine were all the coolest, obviously.

Jessie's family always did a fake tree. I would tell you the wonderful memories associated with that, but I have none.

Actually, I don't think Jessie has any sort of special attachment to a fake tree because of his childhood. It just meant he didn't see the tree as a particularly sentimental investment, but an economical one. And there are a zillion practical reasons to get a fake tree. In short, it's cheaper, cleaner, and less of a hassle. Jessie's a smart man. He thinks with his head. He saw no reason we should get an expensive, messy, hard to transport tree that will probably burn down our home.
I tried to explain to him that it was a memory making experience our kids had to have. He was probably thinking our kids would rather have the money we saved in their nice sensible college funds.

Eventually, since our marriage is apparently stronger than a small disagreement about Christmas trees, we compromised. We currently have a deal involving using our cool fake tree that I got at a 50% off sale for some years, and getting a real tree some years (complete with memories and dry needles.) I have to admit, our tree doesn't look too shabby. And it's fun having the festive holiday atmosphere. But I'm looking forward to taking Madeline to a tree lot some day to fight with her siblings over which tree is the coolest. And Jessie will probably think I'm crazy, but since he's a good husband, he'll suck it up and let me have my bug infested tree and maybe even agree to take turns watering it.

P.S. I changed my blog colors to appear Christmasy, because apparently this is a cool thing to do and everyone is making their blogs festive nowadays. I did not add pretty Christmas pictures or themed borders and such because this seems too much like scrapbooking, which we all know is beyond my grasp. Enjoy the holiday spirit.

From Thanksgiving to Christmas

We survived Thanksgiving, with only a little too much pie eating. As in, putting it all together, I never consumed a whole pie by myself, which is laudable. We had a good time, too, hanging out with Jessie's family on Thankgiving day, and my whole extended family on Friday as we celebrated my Grandma's birthday (which is actually this Thursday), and then my immediate family on Sunday, to celebrate my sister's birthday, which was actually on Friday. Did you catch all that? There are long, complicated reasons why we can't celebrate people's birthdays on the actual day of their birth. But if I told you I'd have to kill you.

We even went shopping on...gasp...Black Friday. Not in the morning, because I value my sleep and my sanity, and I didn't want to get crushed by mad crowds who value a new Wii over human life. We went in the afternoon, when everything was nice and calm. True, all the doorbusters were gone, but they were all out of my budget anyway. It's great when a $1000 TV is on sale for only $400, but I still don't have $400. So it might as well be a million. Whoopdee do. Instead I got lots of nice, affordable presents. Yay for me. And Jessie. Because he helped buy them too. And for my sister. Who also bought stuff. We are all officially cool. Even Bryce got some little fuzzy worm thingy attached to an invisible string for like three dollars, so he's now officially cool. Which, by the way, it's really hard to tie invisible string to a fuzzy little worm thing. Mostly because it's INVISIBLE. Go figure.

Jessie and I also decorated our house for Christmas. Which was really hard, because I have a tiny little box of Christmas stuff, but it got us in a festive mood. I set up my tiny tree my mother got me to celebrate Christmas in the dorms, and the Christmas candle I got from my coworker last year, and my kitchen angel that I got for my wedding two years ago and never opened, and which isn't actually super Christmasy. Because she is holding a pot. But I'm sure while all the other angels were singing in the fields and admiring the star and stuff, some faithful soul was doing the heavenly dishes. So they get proper recognition at my house. Merry Christmas to people doing dishes everywhere. You are all my heroes.

Happy Thanksgiving and feasting and please, no one get concussions

Happy Thanksgiving everybody! I'm pretty excited about Thanksgiving. It's a great holiday. For one thing, everybody gets two days off instead of one, which makes it feel extra festive. For another, I never have to make anything more complicated than a relish tray, which is sweet. It's like a catered dinner. Also, there is always chocolate pie. I cannot dislike any day on which we celebrate by eating chocolate pie.

This is Madeline's first Thanksgiving, and I promised her a lot of mashed potatoes, to make up for the fact that I didn't let her snitch much from our breakfast. Because eggs are apparently bad for babies. Madeline disagreed, but being about eight times her weight and a lot smarter, I prevailed. Even when she tried begging from Dad. Jessie claims I'm a dictator, but I think that's not a bad thing when I'm right. Which is most of the time, right? So Madeline will have to wait until lunch for her feast like the rest of us. Maybe I'll be a nice mom and let her feed herself. And let Daddy clean up. Ha ha. (Just kidding Jessie. I'll clean it up. Because you were so nice and did the dishes this morning. That earned you a free pass all weekend. Unless you planned it that way, knowing it'd get you out of all other duties...hmmm...you might be smarter than I thought.)

Oh. I relented this morning and let Jessie go play football with the elder's quorum. But before you judge me as a controlling wife who only grudgingly lets her husband play once in a while, let me defend myself. The last time Jessie played football was on Thanksgiving about three years ago. He never made it to Thanksgiving dinner, because he got knocked out cold for four hours and woke up in the hospital with a concussion. So really, I'm just trying to protect him. But he claimed that the ground isn't frozen solid like last time, and so he'll be safe. I'm just hoping the elder's quorum will be nice to him since he's new. But if I miss my chocolate pie because someone's in the hospital, Jessie owes me big time.

I can walk a mile without ever leaving my front room.

About a month ago I bought myself an exercise video from Ross. Mostly because, surprise, after about three weeks, the jogging idea kind of died. And then it got colder, and then we moved and I lost my fun little jogging path. So anyway, I bought this video called "Walk away the pounds". Mostly because all the others sounded harder. Never name an exercise video "Sweat away the pounds" or "Feel your muscles burn". These are scary names. But I can walk. I walk all the time. So I figured this nice, non-scary video would magically help me lose all the baby weight. Then, right after I bought it, we all got sick. Like constantly nauseated, constant headaches, napping all day for a week kind of sick. So I said a big resounding NO to exercise that week. With only minimal guilt. Then, we were in the middle of moving and I figured all the packing and hauling boxes was good enough, and my DVD player got packed up, so I felt absolutely no guilt not even thinking about my new video for a week. But after all the unpacking was over, and the video was sitting front and center on my shelf, I decided it was about time to stop procrastinating. It's actually kind of fun. I've been walking every day for a week now, and despite the fact that the instructor is a little too peppy and complimentary (So smart of you to exercise today! You're doing so great! You're going to have an energizing day! So glad you decided to walk with me today!), I feel like I'm accomplishing something. I even made Jessie do it with me last Saturday. He'd been laughing at me all week for saying things about how "we" were doing kicks and sidesteps today, and teased me about my new exercise "group". But I got my revenge when he looked ridiculous doing all the moves and pooped out halfway through the bonus10 minute abs workout, while I powered through like a pro. ( My abs were dying for two days afterward, but don't tell Jessie. It's always worth it to outdo your manly husband, right?) The only complaint I have about the whole exercise thing is that the instructor clearly didn't factor in active babies to the workout. It adds a whole new dimension to the workout. The instructor is lifting two pound weights over her head while I'm lifting a sixteen pound baby. In between sidesteps and kickbacks, she's going back to walking while I run over and rescue an adventurous seven month old from the stairs. And have you ever tried to do trunk curls with a baby pushing down on your head? I'd like to see peppy fitness lady do THAT.

Ward-hopping is better if you bring an angry child

So we went looking for our new ward today. The internet told us it was at 9 am and that we were in the Graden 1st ward. I have great faith in lds.org, so I was pretty sure that was right. Okay, so it messed up the time when it told us our Lindon ward, but that's because they think they're still in college and switch times in the fall rather than at New Year's. At least they got the ward right. So we drove to church, and sat through sacrament meeting. Or at least Jessie did. Madeline decided to pitch a VERY loud fit. Like rock concert loud. So I ended up hiding in the nursery room on the opposite end of the church house to muffle the screams, and really didn't hear much of the talks. Of course, Madeline feel asleep right as the closing prayer, so Jessie and I went up to introduce ourselves to the Bishop. And found out we were in the wrong ward. The good news is, our new ward doesn't yet know how loud Madeline screams. The bad news is that our new ward was in a different building and started at 8:30. So we packed Madeline into the car, which of course woke her up, and headed to our new ward, just in time for relief society. On the bright side, our new ward didn't seem intimidated by the fact that we'd already been rejected by one bishopric, and decided to keep us. For now. Until they hear Madeline scream in sacrament meeting.

Also, for all you excited fans out there: Madeline sort of took a few steps unaided. I'm betting walking by Christmas. Which means she'll be able to get into even more trouble. I'm going to hobble my next child. (Okay, just kidding. I won't do that. That would be unethical. But let's not pretend I'm not tempted. Maybe I'll get one of those child leashes for Madeline. Is that wrong?)

Happy two years, friend

Welcome back to me. We're back online again, having just gotten internet at our new dwelling. I know you're all ecstatic. We're safely moved, and although I know you're all dying to hear every detail, it'll have to wait. Because...drumroll please...today is our two year anniversary! And we still like each other and stuff! So I thought it would be an appropriate topic for this post. I'm pretty excited, because my mother has Madeline for the evening. It'll be her first overnighter. When Jessie asked what I wanted to do for our anniversary, I told him I wanted to sleep. And the darling man wasn't too disheartened by the fact that I was almost more excited by the prospect of sleeping as long as I wanted than a Madeline-free date night. Some guys would get a little offended. Not my guy. That's why he's a keeper. It's been a marvelous afternoon, in which I got to shower when I felt like it, exercise without the weight of a seven month old around my ankle, and take a little nap. I contemplated taking a bubble bath, but it felt like too much work getting it ready. It's sad when you're too lazy for luxury.

However, I am looking forward to getting pampered tonight: aka, I'm not cooking. Some guy/girl at Applebee's will do it for me. After that, being the cool procrastinators we are, we're not exactly what we're doing other than contemplating the joys of being married two whole years. We made a deal that we're going to die when we're 120 (or rather, when I'm 120, since Jessie is an old geezer), in order to enjoy 100 years of wedded bliss. That means we're 2% of the way there. Plus that whole eternity thing, but we don't factor that into the math because I was playing tetris on my calculator when we covered infinity in math class. I guess we'll be able to handle marriage a while longer. Jessie's pretty cool about tolerating all of my weird quirks, and he even aids and abets me in my chocolate obsession. He read Harry Potter for me, and doesn't mock me when I want to be home for the Office or Heroes. He's not a bad cook, lugged all my shoes through two moves so far, and hasn't yet made me dispose of my giant hippo collection. So here's to you, my patient spouse. I promise to always be interested in your spreadsheets, keep your love of chick flicks a secret, and let you beat me at bowling, all while being really impressed at your handyman skills and ability to make up songs with no real melody or rhyme scheme. Te amo!

The fateful day is here.

So, we're moving. And we're dismantling our faithful computer. So there will be a slight hiatus in blogging until we get internet worked out at our new place. Off we go! Wish us luck!

The many woes of Madeline Warner

Madeline doesn't like packing. We had a glimpse of this a few weeks ago, when we picked up her new high chair from WalMart. All the packing paper terrified her. Turns out she's not so fond of boxes either. (We're just hoping this doesn't extend to wrapping paper and Christmas boxes, or the holidays are going to be pretty traumatic.) Poor girl. Plus, she got really mad at me when she discovered I had packed up all the DVDs off the entertainment center, because it meant she couldn't play with them and throw them all on the floor. She leads a hard life. Oh, and she's finally getting some teeth, which means she can now bite me when she's unhappy. Fortunately, she hasn't really figured this out yet, so we're okay for now. But heaven help us if she ever links biting to her temper tantrums. If they weren't so frequent and depressing, I would love her temper tantrums. They're pretty funny. She climbs up next to you and bounces up and down and cries in short little grunts, and you're almost convinced that life on planet earth will cease to exist as we know it if Madeline isn't pacified RIGHT NOW. It's actually impressive. It's a good thing she's the most adorable little person you'll ever meet 90% of the time.

Taking this show on the road. To Pleasant Grove.

Good news to report on the moving front. We found an apartment! That Jessie likes! (Just kidding love.) Okay, so Jessie is a little more discriminating than I in both his taste in food and apartments. Which is good, because than we eat good and don't live in dumps. We've tentatively got an apartment in Pleasant Grove, a couple minutes from Jessie's work, which is handy. After we put down a deposit tomorrow it'll be official. It's got 3 bedrooms, 1.5 bathrooms, and a little square of dirt for my new garden. Because I am great at growing things. (Not really.) So Jessie can have his little office, Madeline can have her own room, and I can have my own little pantry. Everyone wins. Pictures may be forthcoming on facebook, so stay tuned. We're pretty excited, except for the whole moving part. Because now that we have somewhere to go, I have no excuse not to pack all my stuff. Except the whole being sick thing. I might roll with that for a few more days.

Oh. We got a new president. Can he get rid of my cold, please?

Well, we have a new president all picked out. Congratulations to Obama. Frankly, I'm just glad it's all over. I found it hard to be excited about election returns last night. I watched everyone on television crying and screaming and acting like the world had just been declared a war-free zone, and I was unmoved. Don't get me wrong. I don't necessarily dislike Obama. It was a tough choice for me on who to vote for, and I wavered back and forth many times before settling. On who, I won't tell you, because it's more fun that way. And I do think it's really cool that an African American is going to be our next president. But call me racist, I hope people voted for Obama because he's qualified for the job, not just because he's black. Because I think he has plenty of other great qualifications and that voting someone in just because it's historic, be it an African American or a woman or a disabled person or a Hispanic, is a pretty lousy reason. But anyway, back to last night. I'm sitting there listening to the news guy talk about how this is an extremely emotional moment for everyone in the nation, and perhaps the world, and I'm thinking to myself: I felt more emotional when I cried at Dr. Phil today than upon hearing we have a new president. (It's true. Blame it on PMS, but it's true.) So now, while everyone else is celebrating, I'm waiting for this guy to prove himself. I would have felt the same way with McCain. You talk big, Mr. President Elect, but now prove to me that you're better than George W. Bush, and that you know what's best for the country, and that you can fix things with your tax cuts and troop removal plans and change. And in four years, if you put your money where your mouth is, I'll be first to sing your praises and vote you in again. But for now, I'll just be glad I don't have to watch any more campaign ads. And sad that I won't get to see Tina Fay doing Palin impersonations on a regular basis.

Daylight Savings is not natural. Vote no to Daylight Savings.

I felt really smart this weekend when I managed to change all the clocks in our house the night before, correctly guessing which ones would change themselves. I was all on top of everything. Until I realized there was no good way to change Madeline's internal clock. So after many well fought battles to get her on a sleeping schedule we were both comfortable with, she's now waking up every morning at least an hour before I want her to. I try to keep her up later at night, but she doesn't see the logic in it, so we're only making a little headway. I suppose I could just follow her sleeping schedule instead of the clock, but my body is easily fooled. When the clock says 5 am, I think it's 5 am. And when Jessie wants to stay up an hour later because the clock says it's okay, it's hard to feel the urgency to get to bed. So I guess we'll just deal with a week or two of early mornings until we get the baby re-calibrated. Fun times.

Other than that hiccup, and rampant sickness in the Warner household, we had a great weekend of Halloween and too much candy and such. Madeline enjoyed Uncle Bryce's baptism; Aunt Holly said she had to hold her back from jumping into the font, because she thought it was one big bath time for everybody. Our costumes are lots of fun, but alas, I have no pictures, due to the dead battery phenomenon that seems to happen every time I want it. Grandma has a lot of pictures though, so I'll have to steal some. She also knows of my inability to keep my camera functioning, and found me some more rechargeable batteries to kill. So maybe I'll go on another binge and take hundreds of pictures of my kid and post them all on facebook with witty captions and another apology that I have nothing else to take pictures of.

A list of my week's activities for you to enjoy

Sorry about the break in blogging, my devoted fans. Madeline and Jessie have been sick, our car broke again, we've had construction going on at our house, we've been apartment hunting, and Madeline's naps have been sporadic. Also, I have had a lack of motivation. But, rest easy, because I'm back.

So, to run down that huge list of reasons why I'm a slacker: Madeline got her first cold, which has been fun. She's not hugely cranky because of it, except when I'm wiping her nose. Apparently kids hate that. Madeline acts like I'm killing her. So I have an interesting conundrum: let her crawl around with gobs of snot running down her face and let her wipe it everywhere on her hands, clothes, and me, or make her hate me every ten minutes while I become civilized and use a kleenex. Mostly we compromise. If it it gets too bad, I step in, but otherwise I let it run its course and plan to sanitize everything later. Unfortunately, Jessie got sick too; but fortunately, he wipes his own nose. And medicates himself too. So life is good.

We were driving out to Jessie's mom's house over the weekend when our car suddenly started randomly overheating. WE thought a little coolant would do the trick, but alas, the coolant was plenty full. After an exciting journey home, in which we got to sit at freeway exits a few times, staring at each other, waiting for the car to cool off a bit, we took the car in to have the thermometer replaced with a new, better, cooler thermometer. The mechanic is kind of sick of us. He told us we'd better stay away until we're due for an oil change. We told him we're desperate for friends, so we randomly select an engine part to sabotage every few weeks in order to come hang with him and his mechanic buddies.

Our master bathroom is finally being finished, instead of being a big empty hole. Our landlord hired a guy to do the framing and tiling and all that fun jazz, and he's been working evenings to make it usable. I'm recovered from the disappointment of never getting to use the jacuzzi tub. Mostly because I heard they're a pain to keep clean, and I never get time to take baths anyway. Plus, going up the stairs to use the bathroom at all hours of the night has been good exercise.

Since new renters are coming into our house the beginning of December, we've been apartment hunting to find some place to live while Jessie educates himself. We only have two really important requirements: a) it must be cheap to save money for that pesky tuition, and b) it can't seem like it's really cheap. We feel confident such a paradoxical place exists. With washer dryer hookups and cheap utilities. So every day we go out looking for it. So far we've found a few candidates that somewhat equate this dream apartment mixed with reality, and we're going to look at a few more before we commit ourselves. Anyone wishing to suggest an apartment that meets these qualifications, is near Jessie's work in American Fork, and nearby to a beach and Disneyland, is welcome to make those suggestions.

So, that's our life in a nutshell. We're taking a break from all these wonderful things to enjoy Halloween, because I love Halloween. Our costumes are pretty spiffy, if sadly unrelated to each other. Jessie is going to be a hippie (for the coolness of this costume, see it modeled by my brother here), Madeline's going to be the cutest pumpkin ever, and I'm going to be a renaissance princess thanks to my wonderful sister who lent me a costume. Happy Halloween, everybody!

Any thoughts on who I should vote for would be appreciated.

Jessie and I decided to vote early, because we're afraid of having an irritable baby disturbing your valuable voting experience by making a lot of noises whilst standing in a huge long line on election day. Also, Jessie and I don't like standing in huge long lines. So it works out for everybody. The problem with this great plan is that it means I have to decide who I'm voting for within the next few days. My preference tends to change every few days, so I'm afraid by election day I'll already be sorry for whoever I voted for. I have several criteria I'm debating on, some serious and some absolutely ridiculous (a.k.a., so ridiculous I ought to be shot for taking my civic duty so lightly). The serious ones, like moral issues and the economy and voting records and such, I will not be discussing here, since I hate political debate among friends, and unless I see one side as clearly more desirable (such as the debate on Proposition 8 in California), I don't think it's my place to try to tell you you're stupid if you don't agree with me. And I like blogs that make Jessie laugh, which such serious blogs do not do. I will, however, share with you some of the ridiculous criteria that help me sort out the candidates. Just be comforted and rest easy that I actually will be voting on the serious criteria. Mostly.

Okay, here goes. Reasons why I may be voting for McCain. He reminds me a lot of Bush, in that sometimes he's so ridiculous that it makes me chuckle. Laughing at Bush's grammatical mistakes and fun speeches the past four years have enriched my life. So that's something in McCain's favor. Also, he's an old guy. I like old people. After working in a nursing home for a while, I can testify that they make life interesting. So we know the president at least won't be dull. Another consideration: McCain is behind in the polls. I love the underdog. And I hate voting with the crowd. I haven't read Twlight precisely because everyone else has. On another positive note, I like Tina Fey's Sarah Palin impersonations. Also, I think the elephant is a cooler mascot than a donkey.

In Obama's favor, he's black. And before you start calling me racist, let me refer you to the whole underdog thing. Obama may be leading in the polls, but he would be the first black president, which would be cool. He's also way more suave than McCain, which makes me feel good, even if his policies or plans don't. He has little kids, which counts for the pro and con lists, because I like little kids, but I don't think it will be much fun for them having more security around and less time with dad. Ditto on this for Palin though, so on that point it's probably a wash. I like Biden because he rides the train, and ever since we rode the train cross country when I was a kid, I've thought trains were pretty cool. I like to ride Trax just because it's there. Also, (and I apologize that SNL on Thursday nights plays such a big role in my thought processes), the Obama impersonator who talked about being abducted by aliens was pretty funny. So I guess the political satire is a wash too. I'll probably be amused no matter who gets elected. And we all know that's the most important thing.

The doctor's office survived our visit.

Well, Madeline is healthy. Definitely not normal, but healthy. She passed the doctor's appointment with flying colors, and for the curious, now weighs a whopping 15 pounds 6 ounces and is 26 inches long. I was really happy about that, because at her four month appointment, she weighed less than twelve pounds. Now she has rolls of fat in her legs and it actually takes some arm muscle to lift her, so there is happiness in the Warner household. The doctor and nurses were both surprised she was crawling already. They kept asking questions about how well she sat up and if she could support her weight and whether she'd pull herself to a sitting position, and I wanted to just say, "Hey, she's climbing chairs and running after my parents' dog. Why don't we talk about what the heck I'm supposed to do about that?" Okay, she doesn't run after the dog by herself. But she usually won't take steps when you hold her hands. Unless my dog Joey is in the room. Then she squeals and runs. This is why we can't have a dog. Or she'd be walking already. And I would be in despair.

War of the Warners

I told Jessie the other day that I have to keep believing that someday in the near future I will be able to sleep through the night. Otherwise life is depressing. After Madeline's performances the past week, I don't know whether to be optimistic that the day is at hand, or too cynical to think it will ever be reality. Madeline finally developed a sleeping schedule, which was supposed to be a good thing, or so they tell me. Her sleeping schedule involves going to bed between eight and nine, awakening an hour later and crying for her binki, and then waking up two to three hours later and screaming bloody murder for an hour plus. Then she'll wake up between three and five for a bottle, and then between six-thirty and seven for good. If you'll closely examine the gaps between these events, you'll notice they don't leave much time for sleeping. Especially when you have to wrestle back the blankets from your husband every time you return to bed. (Just kidding. He's only done that once or twice. And he's been forgiven after his involvement in the midnight war on Madeline, in which he has risked life and limb to help me keep my sanity.)

After about a week of this, we were getting kind of desperate for a way to beat Madeline at her own game, especially since the weekend and extra napping time for mom and dad were quickly coming to an end. So last night, when she woke up a little early (just after 11) with her infamous deafening scream attack, Jessie put her in her crib, took me upstairs, and didn't let me leave the couch until she was asleep. Madeline tried all her best moves, like the death scream for ten minutes straight, and the sneaky minute of silence followed by a full frontal assault, but Jessie was unflappable. (I was a mess. Not to say Jessie wasn't touched by this gut-wrenching display; he was just more firm in his belief that the 1 AM tantrums had to stop.) And miracle of miracles, after about 25 minutes of a display of Madeline's incredible stamina, there was silence in our household. And we got to go to sleep before midnight. The cool part was that all the screaming seemed to have worn Madeline out, because she slept until 7:30 this morning. UNHEARD OF. I thought she had died from a combination of abandonement and hyperventilation from all the crying. I had to check that she was still breathing. It's the longest stretch of sleep I've gotten in months, and it was beautiful.

We'll have to see if the tide has indeed turned, and Jessie and I are winning the battle. (As we speak, Madeline is once again fast asleep for her afternoon nap, after another tantrum, which can only be described in one word: shorter.) Listening to my daughter scream like that has been a draining and guilt-ridden experience, but I keep telling myself that it will be worth it in the long run. And fortunately, Madeline doesn't hold grudges, and was just as excited to see us this morning as every other morning. And for once, I was rested enough to be fully excited to see her too.

I can shop online and make frozen dinners. I am a domestic goddess.

I would like to report that I folded the laundry and packed the box of books. For those of you who were waiting with baited breath for that update.

And in other news: I've been trying to research high chairs. It's really amazing to me how much you have to know about baby stuff, and how many different products there are out there for every fathomable baby contingency. There are products to help your child sit up on their own before they actually know how, products to help them learn good posture, activity centers, gates, jumpers, bouncers, swings, playpens, cribs, play mats, bathtubs, carriers, big strollers, little strollers, double strollers, boosters, travel seats, car seats, jungle gyms, and every toy under the sun that could possibly entertain/teach/turn your child into a baby genius who writes symphonies and runs marathons. It's all a little overwhelming, actually. I did a lot of research on gates, when we needed one, and there were so many different types that I ended up just getting the one my mom found on clearance, which happened to be a pretty good one, so go me. And my mom. (Thanks mom.) That's pretty much how I selected the stroller, the crib, and the car seat too, which also all ended up being pretty good models with all the features I never knew would come in handy. And which were also all found by mom at killer prices. Strange coincidence. (If you had a mom who was as good at finding blowout prices as my mom, you would let her do the majority of your shopping too.)

And, in other other news, I contemplated being culinary today and trying a new recipe I saw on the Early show. And surprising Jessie with my ingenuity, cooking prowess, and thoughtfulness. Until I realized that I didn't have half of the ingredients (despite the fact that they're very basic), because my kitchen is stocked with frozen foods, meals-in-a-box, and meals-in-cans. Because I really actually can't cook very well. Sigh. Defeated by my own dependence on commercially prepared deliciousness. I never would have made it as a pioneer.

Can I cross "Save Madeline" off my to-do list yet?

I have not been productive today at all. Sometimes, when this happens, I can convince myself that this is a bad thing and be productive the last few hours before Jessie comes home and clean and cook and organize and look like I'm a cool housewife who's on top of things. Actually, most of the time I get at least something done, because guilt starts to get to me if it's noon and all I've accomplished is getting a shower and putting a cup in the dishwasher. Today, however, I have no motivation. It's 4:00, and instead of going downstairs to fold the laundry or packing a box full of old textbooks, I'm writing in my blog and reading about perfect strangers' lives. Don't judge me though. You know this could be you next Friday. Or two years from Friday, depending on your marital/parental/career/health status. Besides, it's very hard to do anything productive when you have to rescue a six-month-old every two minutes who loves to pull herself into a standing position on the couch, the walls, the safety gate, her crib, dining room chairs, televisions, kiddie activity centers, etc., but has not yet grasped the concept of how to get down without falling. Although she has grasped the concept that falling hurts. So there's a lot of standing and screaming, "Help me mom! I've exceeded my own expectations and I'm going to die of a concussion if you don't come bend my legs for me and show me how to sit down by myself! Because I didn't quite catch it the last two hundred times we did it. SAVE ME NOW!!" Which actually sounds like "AHHHHHHH! AHHHH!", but I've become a pretty good interpreter.

I got drugs. Hooray!

Today is a singular day. Today, I finally got my insurance company to pay for a prescription after over a month of hard battling. Despite Jessie's urging to vilify our insurance company online and damage their good name, I will not write the name here. Mostly because last time I complained about a company (which started with The Insurance and ended with Store), one of their VPs ended up calling me in order to apologize for their incessant calling, and I suspect, attempt to get me to remove my rant from the internet. It's amazing what happens when you defame someone online. You can yell at their salespeople all you want, and threaten to write letters and sue and ask to be put on the DO NOT CALL list every two days, but you write a blog about their poor customer service and they straighten right up. You'd think I'd write about my insurance company, to get them to apologize too, but I've already talked to them on the phone about twenty times more than I ever wanted to, and I detest phone calls from people I don't know more than I desire an apology. It seriously had become part of my daily routine. Do the dishes, take a shower, feed the baby, call my insurance company and get put on hold for twenty minutes only to be told everything was hunky dory when I knew it wasn't, because they wouldn't pay for any prescriptions. There's a problem when it takes a company three weeks to even admit there's a problem. And another two weeks to fix it. Alas, thus is life. I doubt there's any insurance company out there that doesn't make it like pulling teeth to get a payout. So, I will end there, and not divulge that this company I hate starts with "Al". And ends with "tius". Don't go with them. Ever. Thank you.

The end of innocence

So there I was...

(That one's for you, Jessie.)

Anyway, I was in the kitchen doing dishes, when I paused for a moment to go find Madeline and make sure she wasn't making a battering ram to bring down the gate, or spider-climbing up the walls, or spitting up into the vent. And this is what I find:


Madeline had climbed up into her bouncer, and then used it to climb up the entertainment center to get things off of the second and third shelves, to which I had moved forbidden items like cards and the like after discovering she could reach the first shelf from the floor. I didn't know whether to be proud or horrified. I knew she was too smart for her own good. And mine. Now that we're into climbing days, nothing is safe.

There is no good way to tell people you know everything about them.

I have a confession. I don't really feel too bad confessing this, though, because I have a sneaking suspicion I am one of many who do it and that it's actually pretty socially acceptable. I stalk people via the internet. People I don't know, and some I do, and sometimes fake people. Mostly I do this by reading their blogs, because hey, when Madeline lets me, it's my guilty pleasure. I like to find out that that girl I knew in high school got married to some guy I once was in the same ward as, and the dude from from my freshman ward now has twins, and my old bishop moved to Hawaii and got taped doing the hula wearing coconuts and a grass skirt and it's now all over facebook. (By the way. None of that is true. As far as I know. Except that everyone and their dog got married and had kids. But thus is life.) I know every little detail about people I have barely spoken to. That sounds creepy, but like I said, I think there are a lot of other people who are also this creepy. Maybe you are. Admit it. Or maybe you're somebody I'm stalking. Or both. Anyway, if you have a blog, there's a good chance I've visited it, because I read just about everyone's blog if I know them even remotely. And if they happen to have interesting lives and/or have witty writing skills, I probably read every little thing they've ever written. I am taking a great risk admitting this. Because now, if I run into you, you might start telling me about your life. But not all of it, because you'll say, "But of course you already know that from my blog." And I will get a guilty/confused look on my face, and start making up stuff about not knowing you had a blog (even though it's linked on mine), or that the baby keeps me so busy nowadays, I have no time to read blogs, or my computer crashed six months ago and isn't that sad, and it must have been someone else who updated my status on facebook yesterday. And you'll know that I'm lying and that I think you lead a dull life and have boring writing skills. That will be very awkward. Maybe, if we meet, we can just pretend we don't know about the internet. That would probably be better.

Spidergirl, Spidergirl

Madeline is climbing up the walls. Literally. She crawls up to a wall, the couch, my leg, the garbage can, and gets and her knees and tries to crawl up. This is often followed by a sudden loss of grip, a swift fall forward, and hard bumps to the head. I am afraid she is going to die. I have done all the good parent stuff. I have lowered her crib, bought a gate, put plastic things in the electrical outlets, went without my fan, relocated the laundry hamper, swept and mopped the floors so she doesn't eat crumbs and get food poisoning, and I dutifully undo the cords from the DVD player from the television whenever we aren't watching a movies so she can't grab them and get electrocuted or break the TV or do something else horribly dangerous, like swing like a trapeze artist. But I can't move the stupid walls. Or wrap them in fluffy blankets. Or make her wear a helmet. (Wait. Maybe I could try that one. Is that a cruel thing to do?) She just wants to be too big too fast, and she's got just enough motor skills to be a hazard to herself. I can just hear parents everywhere, mine included, out there laughing at me and shaking their heads knowingly. Maybe someday I'll be cool like them and laugh at my children when they're discovering the joys of parenthood.

On a brighter note, she's also starting to jabber more instead of always squealing, which is fun, because Jessie and I can lie to ourselves and pretend she's saying meaningful things like "hi" and "dad" and "buy more chocolate for mama". (I can't ever quite get Jessie to believe that last one. What a skeptic.) Jessie thinks that because she started crawling earlier than the average baby, she'll start talking earlier too. I think she'll have no need for coherent speech because she'll be off getting everything herself and going wherever she wants and learning to be quiet when she's doing mischievous things so I won't figure it out and stop her. Unfortunately for her, I've already learned that kids are most dangerous when you can't hear them, so I'll be on the lookout. Bryce taught me that one when he painted the table green while I was supposed to be watching him. Thanks Bryce, for initiating me into the ways of terrible toddlers and preparing me for many of the possible hijinks my own kids will likely get into. I'll get you back when I let you babysit my wayward children. Ah, sweet revenge.

America shouldn't be a democracy.

Jessie thinks I'm crazy. Which isn't a new thing. But he mostly thinks I'm crazy today because I am in mourning. Over a TV show. More specifically, America's Got Talent. Jessie and I got addicted, and we were guessing every week who would go on and who wouldn't make it. For the most part, I was a pretty good guesser. I usually got all the acts right, or just missed one. SO I was pretty confident going into the finale on the final pecking order. My guesses were as follows: Winner, Nuttin But Stringz; second place, Eli Mattson; third place, Queen Emily; fourth place, Donald Braswell; fifth place, Neal E. Boyd. Since Neal won the competion, you can tell that my guesses were a little bit off. And he did NOT deserve it. Eli did. I'd buy his album in a heartbeat. I told Jessie I was putting up Eli Mattson posters all over our bedroom walls in protest. This didn't phase him. Then I told him I'd put up Donald Braswell posters, which did get his attention, because he hates the man for some incomprehensible reason. I'd go watch him in Phantom of the Opera, but hey, I have no taste apparently. I was also disappointed at Nuttin But Stringz low finish, since they were the most original and unique of the bunch. The upshot of it all is that I have no faith in America's voting ability. Things look bad for the presidential election.

It's the busy season, and so I think we'll move again to make it even more fun.

It's suddenly October, and all of a sudden I feel like I have a lot to do. Maybe because Halloween is right around the corner, which I love, even if Jessie doesn't. Silly man. And then you've got Thanksgiving, and Christmas shopping, and trying to find a new place to live, and all the birthdays in both of our families these next few months. Seriously, why everyone had to be born in September, October and November is beyond me. Cool people like our little family are born in the February and April. It spreads out the festivities more. Plus you can ask for all the stuff you forgot at Christmas. So anyway, Jessie and I are looking for a new place to live next year, which is awesome, because I love house hunting. (Not really.) With Jessie going back for his MBA, we decided to be cool and live like poor college students again. Which also means packing up all the junk we've managed to accumulate in two years of marriage, which is a pretty impressive amount, to which Madeline has contributed the most outrageous amount. Maybe I'll give all my goods to charity and we can live in a tent on the mountain. That would be really affordable. I'm a genius.

I like to eat cookies. Madeline prefers her daddy's legs.

I am in love with butterscotch oatmeal cookies. For some reason, they make my soul happy. And although it may be an illusion, they seem healthier than brownies, so I have less guilt. It's probably a good thing that I don't usually have tons of butterscotch chips around the house. Or that I don't have time to bake much, with Madeline being Madeline. Along with her new found mobility has come an insecurity in being too far away from Mom, and a desire to be held a lot. I'm thinking it's the beginning of separation anxiety, which should be an awesome time in our lives. To add to the delightful mix, I think she's starting to teeth as well. She's pretty happy anyway, but it makes her a little more cranky overall. Jessie and I are getting better equipped to handle all of these lovely changes. We installed a tall gate that makes Jessie feel like a prisoner, which is kind of fun. Jessie lowered Madeline's crib so that she can't pull herself out and die, which makes her unhappy, but makes me feel a lot better. And Jessie lets Madeline chew on his leg when she needs to exercise the ol' gums, even though it apparently tickles. What a good daddy.

I can't remember why I have a phone.

Warning: There may be some ranting in this post. I'm not to be held responsible. Blame your congressman. Or McCain or Obama. Whichever you prefer.

I dislike phones. In fact, I pretty much hate phones. So it really mystifies me that I spent two years working as a phone operator. I must like torturing myself. It's been a while since I have made more than one or two calls a day, to people other than those whom I bug all the time, and know pretty well, and have a sneaking suspicion like hearing from me (i.e., my mother and Jessie). Today, however, I had a to-call list. Not a terribly long one, but long enough to be depressing. Especially since half of them were customer service issues, which I hate calling about, because no one ever understands my needs. Ever. When I call a customer service number, I think of how I hated it when people rambled on and on about their problem instead of just telling me who they needed to talk to, and I try not to repeat that performance myself. But somehow, the operators never understand what I'm going for, so I end up telling them the whole story anyway. Which is embarrassing when it's a call to the doctor, annoying when it's a call to the bank on some paperwork they should have told us to fill out while we were there a month ago, and downright irritating when it's my tenth call to the insurance company with the same problems.

It's also really annoying when people call me. I have a hit list of telemarketers who won't leave me alone. On the top of the list is WorldMark, who have tried a dozen times to get me to come claim my free vacation I "won" by sitting through a ninety minute presentation. The problem is, I already sat through the thing, and got thoroughly irritated (see my previous post, which I would link to if I was cool), and got my vacation. It's especially cool when they tell me I "won" through the county fair, which I haven't attended in two years. They must be desperate for buiness. The Insurance Store is also on my list, because they call me every day and ask if I'm happy with my insurance and if I want free quotes, and don't believe me when I say I've done my research and worked it all out on my own, thank you very much. There aren't too many health insurance companies in Utah, so it's not too hard to figure out, actually. They also don't ever believe that I've talked to them before, because it doesn't show up in their records. NExt time I'm going to insist that the Insurance Store doesn't exist, because I've done a lot of research and it's not in my records. (On purpose. Because they can just die.)

Madeline: Mobile Version 2.0

Madeline is starting to crawl. This both immensely pleases me and makes me want to cry. Of course, I'm very proud, as those of you who read my post on her ability to roll over will already know. On the other hand, she's mobile, and my house is not child proof. Gone are the days when Jessie and I can sit on the floor and play cards and let Madeline play right next to us. She has already ruined several Phase 10 cards, marking one of our sixes for life. And we had to say goodbye to the fan, which she kept trying to pull over on herself. (Thank goodness it's cooling off.) She likes to change channels with the remote, check out the air vent, try to pull all of her diapers and socks out of the corner, get stuck under the bed, and try to climb up her bouncy chair and the couch (which thankfully, she still cannot do. Because we haven't lowered her crib yet. We need to get on that so she doesn't die. Because apparently that is bad parenting.) I thought this wasn't supposed to happen for a few more months. I'm not ready. We visited Jessie's sister and her new baby last weekend, and it was so nice to hold a newborn that doesn't cry or squirm or try to eat envelopes and sleeps all the time. It's a shame you're too tired and sore from giving birth the first time to fully appreciate how easy that is. At least now I know that having one little baby is twenty times easier than four or five little kids running around. I must be getting smarter.

Speaking of getting smarter, I think Jessie has figured out that him winning card games is not as satisfactory as letting me win so I'll be in a good mood. My husband is no dummy. He already knows that a bag of Dove chocolate will gain him forgiveness/tolerance of all but the most grievous errors. That's why I married him. He learns fast.

Madeline is the best medicine.

These last few days have been awesome. Between babysitting and being sick, I haven't spent much time being productive in any way, shape, or form. Jessie and I have both been fighting sore throats and various other symptoms for days, so on Tuesday I made him go to the doctor for both of us. I thought it was clever of me to do this, because then I didn't have to actually go see the doctor myself and could just assume I had whatever Jessie had. (I don't like doctors in general, and right now it's a pain going to them because my new insurance cards haven't some yet, and Altius has been kind enough to be a pain in the rear end about activating them and paying for stuff.) The good news, which is also the bad news, is that it wasn't strep like I thought it was. That's good because hey, who wants strep, and bad because they have medicines to make strep go away, but they have yet to figure out how to get rid of random viruses that they really don't have a clue about. So Jessie and I are mutually suffering through the sore throats, ear aches, head aches, tiredness, etc., that may or may not get better tomorrow or next Tuesday. On the bright side, Madeline has yet to show any signs of being sick, which is wonderful. She also has been kind enough to take long naps this week (which she never does) so that I can nap too and regain functionality. She's such a considerate baby. In fact, I have decided that she is a very well-behaved child. After watching four others besides her all day, I came to two conclusions: 1) I will not die if and when I have five children of my own, but may actually be able to handle it; and 2) I am desperately glad that time is not right now, and I just have one beautiful child I can dote on and enjoy and put down for naps.

Shhh. Don't say the e-word.

I have to confess. I am not an inherently politically minded person. I would vote for George Bush again because I think it's funny that he can't talk correctly and I like to hear him say stupid things. It's better than stand-up comedy. This also extends into economics. I hear all the talk about the recent Wall Street happenings, and which companies are in trouble, and I get tired of all the talk. I told Jessie that I think it would be better if they don't talk about it. To my uninformed little brain, it seems that talking about it non-stop seems to make it worse. Correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems like a lot of stock market success and failure is based on perception. Or maybe I'm just making up theories to excuse myself from thinking about it. Because it's depressing. I'm crafty like that.

P.S. Tomorrow I go from mother of one to temporary mother of five for two days. Wish me luck.

Anyone want to take Jessie out to eat, followed by skydiving?

I had a conversation this weekend with Jessie about skydiving. I, being a sane, rational person, would never go skydiving. Despite many assurances from Jessie that skydiving is really safe nowadays, and actual quick and dirty research which tells me about 60-70 people die from skydiving each year globally, I maintain that I would rather not be one of the 60 people who bites the dust. Jessie would. His main motivation in not going skydiving is how much it costs. My main motivation is not dying of fright. I don't really have a problem with heights, when I'm inside a contained area, with no way of falling down. I don't forsee this being a major problem in our relationship, since I told Jessie he's welcome to try it someday with anybody but me. Unless he dies. That could be a big problem for our relationship.

Another thing that is a big problem in our relationship is food. Namely, salad, tomatoes, nuts, beans, peanut butter, and a few other foods I can't remember right now. Jessie still wants me to learn to like them, so we can share in the eating thereof together. I still want to stick to good foods like chocolate, spaghetti, and strawberries. We have differing theories. For instance, Jessie thinks it's a waste to get a chocolate shake when you can get something more complicated with nuts and fruits and carmels and other ridiculous things. I think adding these things to a perfectly good chocolate shake ruins the simplicity of it all. I claim that I'm a purist. He claims I'm close-minded. It is especially frustrating to him that I will eat Reeses Peanut Butter cups, but not peanut butter cookies or anything else with peanut butter. I don't know why, but Reeses tastes different. I can't stand peanut butter cookies. Especially when I was pregnant. They made me want to vomit. If anyone can tell me why Reeses are palatable, as opposed to peanut butter in general, they win free kudos from Cami. And anyone who can figure out how to get me to like peanut butter wins undying gratitude from Jessie. And a Nobel Prize.

Party tonight. Okay, lame party tonight. But it's my party.

So Jessie and I are going out tonight. To the temple, which is not your normal date night, but Madeline won't be there, so it counts in my book. Most of our dates since she has been born have been family dates. Which is cool, but not so date-like. Anyway, we get to go out to eat and everything, so I'm chalking it up as a major cool event. One of these days we'll even be strong enough to leave Madeline with her grandparents overnight. Read we as me. Jessie thinks it's a great idea. I do too, but I'm not so sure how great of an idea it will feel like after a few hours of no Madeline. Mommy hormones have a funny way of sneaking up on you when you should be enjoying yourself.

Five months old is nothing to sneeze at.

I don't usually get too excited over Madeline's monthly milestones (not like I do with the rolling over and sitting up and all of that.) But this morning, for some reason, five months old sounded really old. A lot older than three or four. So Madeline and I had a five-month old photo shoot, and celebrated for five minutes. In honor of your five month old birthday, my little princess, this post is dedicated to you. Doesn't she look excited that it's her birthday? It would be better if I could give her cake, but she's not yet progressed to solids other than rice cereal, oatmeal, ice cream, and mashed potatoes. And the occasional pasta sauce when we eat out and she's trying to grab our plates.

To celebrate this five month milestone, Madeline's been cutting me a break at night, and not waking up until 4 am. It's not sleeping through the night, but I'll take it, and rejoice in only waking up once. Hopefully this is her gift to me, and it will continue from now on. Many thanks from you grateful mother, Madeline. Hope your birthday is as fun for you as sleeping was for me.

My house is clean, and this validates me.

My house smells like Pine Sol. This makes me very happy. It hasn't smelled this potent since I had the Pine Sol fetish at the end of my pregnancy. I also got to cross a few more things off my to do list, which also makes me happy. I don't know if I've ever finished crossing off all the things off of one of my lists. Whenever I go on a trip, I make a giant list of things to pack, and although they usually all make it in, I don't ever get to cross them all off. There's always the stuff to pack at the last minute- my toothbrush, or Madeline's diapers, or a cooler full of ice. I hate the time in between when we actually leave, and when I finish packing everything that's not last minute. I feel unproductive, because there are all these things on my list that STILL NEED TO BE PACKED. But I can't pack them. I hate being unfulfilled. If I get everything crossed off my current to do list, I think I'll celebrate. I just won't write "celebrate" on the list. Or it will never get crossed off.

Guess what. Still running and tormenting my daugther.

Tonight was truly unusual. For the first time in my life, I ran for over twenty minutes straight, and kind of liked it. Instead of the typical ending, with cramping and burning lungs and tired muscles, I felt energized. I felt like I could have kept going. (Although I didn't. Because I wanted to maintain the good feelings and be excited for my next run.) I felt accomplished and strong and cool. I wanted to call up my missionary brother and Dale and my Dad and tell them I could be a runner too. I finally understand why people do it. I'm hoping these good feelings continue, because this is the first time I've been this optimistic about an exercise program, because I might actually like doing it, instead of making myself do it. Yay.

In the meantime, in order to temper my feelings of success and remind me that there are many things I am not faring as well in, Madeline is continuing to fight me on the sleeping thing. She doesn't understand the correlation between good naps and happy baby smiles the way I do. To that end, she refuses to go to sleep when she's tired and cranky until she literally drops off from exhaustion, sometimes in mid-squeal. And she doesn't believe in sleeping through the night, although Grandma tells me that if I let her cry it out for a few nights, she'll get the idea. The problem is, I'm a wimp. And Jessie's wimpier than I am. At this very moment, Madeline is sitting watching tv with Dad even though I tried to put her to sleep almost half an hour ago, because her squeals of protest and whimpering quickly turned into shrill screams of betrayal and ultimate hurt, which probably would have broken the coldest heart. Ah, my daughter. I intend to initiate the crying-it-out plan this weekend, when Jessie and I have the luxury of napping in shifts over the weekend to make up for the sleepless nights. Wish us luck. This is way more complicated than term papers.

Accomplishments in the Warner household

Today I made myself a to-do list. I don't think I've made a to-do list since before Madeline was born. I consider this a great accomplishment. Even more remarkable is that I have crossed off a few things on my to-do list, and none of them was waking up this morning, so that's pretty impressive. Jessie will often come home and be baffled that the dishwasher is neither empty nor full, but halfway done, with more dishes sitting the sink. I try to explain to him the remarkable distracting force that is Madeline, but I think the majority of my point is lost in translation. For instance, today it took me from noon until three to finish wiping down all the counters, refrigerator, table, etc., because Madeline grew impatient with my cleaning exploits. Apparently cleaning is not nearly as much fun as reading books or playing patty cake. I'll have to remember that.

In other news, Jessie was apparently so inspired by my new desire to exercise, that he created a week long exercise schedule for himself, that actually requires him to wake up earlier in the morning. I married a remarkable man. I'll do anything not to wake up earlier in the mornings. He has even successfully completed one day of his schedule, with no signs of letting up. You go, babe. (This sounds like I'm mocking him. I'm not. I'm actually sincerely impressed with his plan, and experience has demonstrated to me that he's quite a bit better at sticking to plans he makes for himself than I am, so there is a high probability he'll be fitter and skinnier in four months, while I'll be starting my tenth new exercise program. I definitely married up.)

I like to run and torment my daughter.

I recently have attempted yet another new exercise program. (I'm really, really good at sticking to them.) I hope this one will succeed, because this time, I'm accounting for Madeline. Namely, by getting Jessie to watch her while I'm exercising instead of trying to do it while she's asleep or letting her participate (and by participate, I mean watch and laugh at me). Plus, I bribed myself with new headphones so I can listen to music while I run, which makes life slightly better. The other good thing about this exercise program is that I've sort of convinced Jessie to exercise too. He's always saying how he'd feel better if he got a little physical activity, so I made him go running before I did. Well, actually, I suggested it and he felt guilty, so he went; but he likes to pretend I made him because for some bizarre reason, placing the responsibility on someone else makes him more disciplined.

I've also discovered a fun new game to play with Madeline. I guess she hasn't discovered object permanence yet. This means I can put a toy right in front of her, and then but a cloth over it, and she'll spend the next five minutes looking everywhere for it. This keeps me endlessly entertained, even if it does seem a bit mean. I have to get my kicks somehow.

Maybe offending people isn't always a bad thing.

Jessie always tells me to blog about issues I feel passionate about. (I think this is mostly so I don't talk to him about them non-stop.) However, I find it hard to write too many blogs on serious subjects. My sense of sarcasm is too prevalent, and I'm afraid anyone who reads these entries might understandably not take me seriously. I'm taking that risk with this opost, because this is something I've been thinking about for a while. The other day I was talking to Jessie about the gay marriage issue in California, and what it means for the nation at large. I have some very strong opinions on this matter, many of which would be offensive to the world at large. I don't think gay couples deserve any rights that two co-habitating, platonic same-sex friends wouldn't have. I don't think they should have the same rights as married couples, including adoption rights, health benefits, and the financial protections associated with marriage and divorce laws. This is because I think gay or lesbian activity is wrong. This would also cause your average American citizen to label me as a prejudiced, intolerant homophobe. There's not much I can do about that, but it doesn't change my opinion. You can talk all you like about religious ideas and subjective morals and perspectives on good and evil, but when you come down to it, some things are right and others are wrong. Period. If society condoned murder and made it legal, that wouldn't make it right. Don't get me wrong. I don't believe in persecuting gays and lesbians, and cutting off any personal legal rights that any other American has, or being rude to any gay or lesbians I may know and telling them they're going to hell or any such thing. That's bigoted and judgemental. But asking me to approve of changes in law that go against everything I believe in is wrong. I don't like to hear people criticize the LDS church for telling their members in California to get involved in this issue. Somewhere down the line, a lot of people have gotten the idea that the church is required to be nuetral in all political issues. I hope this ridiculous notion doesn't keep good people from getting involved in opposing gay marriage, out of fear of offending someone. In this day and age, with the morals and values society has, I think that if someone's not offended by our beliefs, we're probably not being brave enough in standing up for them.

Words of wisdom from Bryce; or, how to break the Word of Wisdom

Well, I considered this holiday weekend to be a success. We played with family, got some things done, and ate pretty well. You can't ask much more than that. Okay, I guess it would have better if I was a little more adept at bowling. Getting beaten twice by a seven year old was a little much to take, bumpers or no bumpers. On the bright side, however, Bryce has illuminated many things about life for me. We played Apples to Apples with him, and his take on the world is pretty amusing. Among the nuggets he came up with: family values are cheesy, and beer is more appetizing than bubble gum. We were all a little blown away by that one, but his reasoning is sound: he doesn't like bubble gum, and beer is like soda pop. I think he may need a few more lessons on the Word of Wisdom before he hits the party circuit. Bryce also gets exasperated by fourth, fifth, and sixth graders who, and I quote, "think like four-year-olds". Pretty savvy from a second grader, don't you think?

Babies should be immune from stupid superstitions. I hope.

I knew Madeline would be a troublemaker, but I didn't expect her to ruin the first seven years of her life in one fell swoop. Today she was sitting in front of our little mirror, admiring herself (which is one of her favorite hobbies). I was trying to be a good parent and hold her hand, so she wouldn't fall over into the mirror, or kick over on top of herself, when she lunged forward and smacked the glass with her face. It broke rather impressively, although I naturally was not focused on that on the time, but rather worried I had just allowed my daughter to kill herself. We escaped with only a tiny, tiny little pinprick beneath her eye, thank heavens. And I resolved forthwith to go buy an unbreakable mirror.

I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. Madeline has had all kinds of exploits lately. She can sit up on her own for a little bit, and also has discovered how to scoot forward (but only if there's something she really wants in front of her, and if it's close enough to reach before she gets tired and frustrated). She keeps trying to pull herself up her bouncy chair from the floor, which means I am forever moving it around the front room, and the other day she somehow managed to get into the cabinet beneath the television and started pulling out coloring books. And I can't eat anything in her vicinity because food is now the most interesting thing on the planet; if it's close enough to grab, she will latch on and make a mess, and if it's too far away to get to, she looks at me reproachfully and yells every time I take a bite and don't give her any. It's a good thing she;s still cute as a button. She gets more smiley every day too, and I count myself lucky that she mostly only causes problems when she's being happy and entertaining herself. It's always refreshing when I can laugh at the complications Madeline causes.

I could become the first woman Mormon president. If I wasn't busy plotting to take over the free world.

I must be an irresponsible person, but for heaven's sake...is the Democratic convention worth taking up all the airwaves on every channel, every night for a week? I thought the Olympics were a lot more significant, and only one network carried those. You could still find other programs, mindless though they were. But this week, all I get is speeches about how great Michelle Obama is. Oh, and Barack. But mostly Michelle. Which is probably true, but if you tell me one more time, I'm going to vote for McCain out of sheer spite. The scariest thing is seeing Hillary Clinton's face in larger than life color, and not being able to escape. Flip the channel...ah! There she is again! And again...and again...and again...

P.S. It is really irrelvant to this posting, but I would like to announce that I, Camille Warner, have beaten Jessie L. Warner at a game of chess, fair and square. (I will not mention that it was a complete fluke, born of one stupid mistake that Jessie made and then realized a second later, and that I am an evil opportunist at best who loves taking advantage of others. I should have been nice and let him take it back. But his fingers were off, and there's no way I'm not springing on my one chance for chess glory.)

In Memorium

This morning, right before we went to church, Jessie checked his e-mail and discovered that a friend from his mission had been on the plane that crashed in Moab, killing everyone on board. It was quite a shock for him, and for me as well. This friend was the kind of boy you knew from one meeting was a good person. Jessie always had the utmost respect for him. As we found out more, we learned that his father had also been killed on the flight, and he left behind a new wife of about a year who is a month away from delivering his first son. I thought about how hard this would be, as a young woman, and my heart broke for his widow. I gave Jessie a hug as he shed a few tears for an old friend.

My mind has been on this tragedy today, and two things have really stuck out to me. The first is this: although my heart breaks for his wife and mother, and all that they will go through, I am not sad for him. I only met him a half dozen times, but that was enough to know that he was a righteous, caring person who was ready whenever the Lord called him home. It impressed me that although neither Jessie or I has had contact with him recently, and although Jessie only knew him from his mission, his death touched our life, as well as many others whom he only knew in passing. I think it is an admirable goal to live your life in a manner that those around you are better for having just met you, and so that you are a force for good who is missed when you are gone. This boy was just that.

I also realized, perhaps for the first time, just how grateful I am for the Plan of Salvation. Although it seems tragic that he was taken while he had so much in front him, with a young wife who needed him and a son he never met in this life, there is hope for them. He will meet his son, and he and his wife were sealed for eternity. It is a great comfort to me, as I think about how grateful I am for my husband and daughter, that if anything happened to them, it would be hard, but it would not be the end. Because we have made the choice to be sealed in the temple, we will be together forever. And in situations like this, the Lord is there to comfort and heal, until they can be reunited. What a beautiful blessing.

My sympathies to the family of this young man and his father, and all the other families of those lost in that crash. May you find peace through the gospel and have the protection and love of the Lord around you.

Some updates of my life. I know you were waiting.

You know you've slacked off when your husband (who only reads my blog once or twice a week anyway) says, "Hey, you haven't blogged in a while." Nope. I haven't. That's mostly Madeline's fault. She's developed this lovely habit of waking up screaming at the top of her lungs at midnight every night for about half an hour. Those of you who have been blessed with live demonstrations of her vocal chords will appreciate how this might make sleep difficult. Which, in turn, makes blogging less of a priority than relaxing, sleeping, and catching up on household chores so I'm not disgusted by my own environment.

You'll be glad to know, Jessie and I stuck to our guns and didn't buy a timeshare vacation last Saturday. I have to tell you, Jessie was much more tempted than I felt comfortable with, but fortunately our common sense returned, and we ultimately got our free vacation. But only after I lost my temper with the salespeople and told them they were annoying. You would too, if they kept telling you they were going to give you an exit survey and instead pushed another sales pitch at you, when you have a four-month old hanging at Grandma's who is still breastfeeding and is way overdue for a feeding. I don't think the salespeople are used to dealing with irate woman with motherly hormones raging. I don't feel too badly though. They had it coming.

We also had the opportunity last weekend to attend Jessie's high school show choir reunion, which I admit, was funner than I thought it would be. I was basing the prejudgment on mission reunions, which are not horrible, but let's face it: I don't know these people, and Jessie can't even tell me their first names. It's just one of those things you do as a nice spouse, and it's semi-interesting, and there is free food. But this choir reunion was a lot more fun, and I got to watch videos of Jessie dancing around and singing as a skinny seventeen year old. It brought back memories of my own choir trips, which was both fun and disturbing. And everyone had cute babies, so I didn't feel awkward toting around an infant. Yay.