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.