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?