In honor of Auld Lang Syne

I know I haven't blogged in too long when Jessie notices my lack of witty anecdotes. I did tell you I would be slacking off. And between a wonderful Christmas, the whole family down with colds, and a few other personal family matters, I didn't have the time or heart to be blogging. But I can't let the calender roll over to 2011 without registering my existence in the virtual world. So, for your pleasure, here is Cami's Annual New Year's Thoughts of Importance! Otherwise known as my fake New Year's Resolution list. I thought about actually making *gasp* real resolutions, but dismissed that idea on the grounds that it would make me accountable and perhaps inspire actual change. Ugh. So instead, I have decided to make a list of the top ten things I resolve NOT to do this year. It's so much easier than being proactive and accomplishing things.

Unresolved:

1. I will not learn Spanish. I've been meaning to learn Spanish ever since I married Jessie so that someday we can serve a mission together to parts Spanish speaking. Except for the first few months when I learned to say "sinners can repent and see the light" and "my husband is handsome", I have not learned any Spanish. I will now assuage my guilt by committing to make no organized effort to become proficient this year.

2. I will not travel to Boston in the fall. You laugh, but I actually wanted to do this. Jessie and I had big plans. Then we decided that an appendectomy, a new baby, a new dishwasher, student loans, a van, and food all rank above airline tickets on the list of things we wish to pay for. So flying to Boston in the fall might be driving to Denver in the summer. Same thing.

3. I will not try to be fashionable. I tried a few times this year. I felt proud until I realized a) most of the fashions nowadays do not flatter post pregnant bodies and b) I have no idea what is fashionable nowadays. So I will stick to trying not to look dorky. And not wearing mom jeans.

4. I will not have dinner on the table every single night when Jessie gets home from work. Most nights, maybe. Every night is too much pressure. And when I don't have dinner ready or at least planned when he walks through the door, I feel guilt. So it's time to do something about that. Either way, I'm not going to make dinner every night. This way I can feel like I'm furthering my goals and becoming wiser. Score.

5. I will not let Jessie beat me at Scrabble. We play together on the iphone and ipad. Jessie is getting better and better, but remains bitter that he hasn't beaten me yet. I intend to keep it this way. Unless he beats me. In which case I let him to keep our marriage intact and boost his self-confidence.

6. I will not eat snails. This should be pretty easy to do since I have never eaten them in my life, and there is not a lot of peer pressure to do so in my neck of the woods. I just wanted to add it to the list to boost my success rate.

7. I will not start a band. My neighbors will appreciate this gesture of goodwill and harmony.

8. I will not try to cut my own hair. I may or may not have done this in the past week in an attempt to save money, under the mistaken assumption that it is easy to "just trim" hair. Turns out this is false if you are doing it to yourself and have zero hair cutting experience. On an unrelated note, I really need to visit a salon.

9. I will not pick any 16 over 1 upsets for March Madness, no matter how much Jessie attempts to convince me there is a first time for everything and optimistically and fool-heartedly makes this rookie mistake in his own bracket.

10. I will not apologize at the start of every blog for not blogging a week. Hopefully this will be a combination of the fact that I am blogging more than once a month and that I have accepted that those who read my blog are acquainted with my habits and used to my flakiness.

So there it is. My firm resolve to be passive and unproductive this year in the name of improvement and progression. Hopefully you'll all be as lucky in accomplishing your goals and aspirations. Happy New Year, everyone. You'll excuse me now, as I really need to take a nap now. Wake me when it's midnight.

My weekly update on our coolness and other amazing details.

So I always have really good excuses for not blogging for forever. Which makes me really cool. This time it is an infection that knocked me out for a weekend, a constipated baby, and general busyness doing Christmas shopping, seeing family, and other cool stuff like that. And since it's almost Christmas, I'll probably slack off some more in the coming weeks. Hooray for slackers (and my house shows it too. For all the same excuses, my house is kind of a mess. But for that one I also throw in the whole new baby excuse.)

Anyway, now that we're done with the requisite apologizing, we can discuss cool things. Like Madeline. Madeline is cool this week because she has reached new heights of defiance in public places. I keep thinking we've reached the threshold, but then she continues to amaze me. I knew my daughter had special talents. We spent half of sacrament meeting last week in an empty classroom throwing tantrums on the floor, part walking in and out of the chapel and screaming, and a small portion in another empty classroom having a long lesson about reverence and showing respect to Heavenly Father. Which she promptly forgot entirely when we tried to reenter the chapel for the closing prayer. We also spent a fair amount of time this week putting on a show for local shoppers in various retail locales. I'm sure they were amused by our game of tag through the stores, the kicking and screaming on the floor, and the parts where I gave up trying to control her and let her rip apart the toy displays. I'm a little tired of being THAT mother in the store. That you are either laughing at, judging, or pitying. Depending on your experience with young children.

But in other news, my other progeny continues to give me hope for the rising generation and counter Madeline's attempts to stop our family growth at two. Other than the whole constipation thing, which is really rather sad, she continues to be a dream. Last night she actually slept for seven and a half hours. She usually sleeps for five or six anyway. Go ahead, hate me. I would feel guilty, but I feel like it's a compensatory gift for enduring Madeline's first six months of life. Or something. I probably don't deserve it at all, but let's not analyze it, lest we kill a good thing. And in other good news for my sanity, I'm done with my Christmas shopping and feeling great. (Wow, I'm a braggart today, huh?) So life, overall, is pretty festive and awesome. Hope you are half as cool as us over here in Warnerville. (Kidding. Totally kidding. I'm just feeling annoyingly chipper today, apparently. Long naps and brownies will do that to you.)

Milestones and merriment

Well, we've officially made it to one month. The hormonal mother inside me cringes to write that. Because Kimberly is much better at eating than Madeline was, she's chunking up a lot faster. (My baby has rolls of leg fat! Hallelujah!) But this means she's not a tiny newborn anymore, and that makes me sort of want to cry. But I am cheered by the fact that she's now more alert, and therefore more fun to play with. We have wars sticking our tongues out at each other. And somehow with all the poking and prodding and dumping her sister out of her bouncer chair, Madeline earned the first smiles of Kimberly's life that I'm fairly certain were not motivated by gas. Which I think is not really fair, but since I am unwilling to hit the baby in order to keep up in the popularity contest, I've resigned myself to the fact that Madeline will always be cooler than Mom to her little sister.

Life has actually been pretty busy, even with a newborn. We're gearing up for Christmas. we managed to motivate ourselves enough to make Christmas cookies, although we haven't yet summoned up the energy to deliver them. Maybe some of our neighbors will get some before I eat them all and blame the extra weight on the baby. Madeline has helped wrapped some presents (sorry to anyone who gets presents from us), and we made a Christmas chain to count down to the joyous day. And Madeline learned to say "ho, ho, ho". So pretty much we're a festive bunch around here.

Why Jessie is cooler than the rest of us.

So tonight was Jessie's work party. Since he now works for a real company, it was a swanky affair at UVU, complete with some delectable prime rib and John Schmidt. But the best part is that his company gives out really awesome raffle prizes, like four big screen televisions, x-boxes, stereo systems, gift cards to restaurants, ski passes, and other cool stuff. Since Jessie has insane luck when it comes to winning things, we were somewhat optimistic about our chances. Which led to a conversation on the way to the party about who got to keep any cool prizes. I told Jessie that since he already got an iphone, tons of free shirts, a nice backpack, a jacket, and other swag from work, that anything less cool than an iphone that he managed to score would be given to me. The poor wife who doesn't get free stuff. He agreed, with the stipulation that if he won an ipad, he got to keep it.

Guess who won an ipad.

Punk.

On the bright side, I'll probably get to use it all the time anyway. If I can keep it away from Madeline and her rabid desire to watch Sesame Street on Youtube.

Bringing up Baby. And Baby's Nemesis, Toddler.

So. Two kids. I've been doing this double duty mothering thing for a couple of weeks now, so I can tell you exactly what it's all about. (For my two kids only, of course. For any general knowledge on actually raising any amount of children, go ask your mother. I'm totally winging it here.) Basically, the baby is easy. Either Madeline was twenty times harder, or I've gotten slightly smarter. I'm inclined to believe it's a combination of having an idea what I'm doing this time and having a very chill baby who does her best to make life good for me. Kimberly sleeps well, eats well (she's already gained a pound on her birth weight), and hardly cries. She almost always takes naps whenever I want her to, and a bad night is waking up twice and getting the hiccups so that she can't go back to sleep. I am definitely, definitely spoiled so far, and probably just jinxed myself. Expect a post tomorrow about my ultra fussy, sensitive, sleepless newborn who poops all over the carpet and throws rowdy parties at one in the morning for all her newborn friends.

No, the hardest part about having a newborn this time is definitely having a toddler. Outwardly Madeline loves the baby-to a fault. She loves to hold her, touch her, poke her, and in all other ways smother her with affection. But her other behavior would indicate she definitely has jealousy issues. She likes to randomly hit, kick, poke, and otherwise torment her sister. She has definite separation anxiety with both Jessie and I. We're talking fits when Jessie goes to meetings, crying when I go up the stairs too fast so she can't see me, and freaking out going to nursery, which she normally has no problem with. And nightmare tantrums when it's time for naps or bed. She also desperately wants to be the baby, manifested by her sudden desire to be changed on a blanket or changing pad, sticking binkies in her mouth, needing a glass of milk whenever I nurse the baby, and wanting to be held and carried. It's terribly amusing when it's not terribly frustrating. Seriously, the number of times Kimberly has made me cry since being born: 0. The number of times Madeline has made me cry since Kimberly was born: a few more than that. Fortunately, the hormonal crying fits have also been significantly less this time around. Less wasted tissues and headaches. So we're working on the toddler situation and assuring Madeline we're not putting her up for adoption now that there's someone quieter in the house. On a brighter note, hearing her apologize to Kimberly is pretty adorable. And we get the opportunity to hear it often.

Let us not be downhearted over Madeline's insecurities. Overall, life really is significantly less stressful and sleep-deprived than I imagined it would be. This parenting gig is pretty sweet compared to a nine to five job. Or at least that's what I tell Jessie when the poor slob has to go to work in the morning while I watch Toy Story. How I love Woody and Buzz.

Mawige. Mawige is what brings us...you know the rest.

Well, I'm sure you're all dying to know what life is like with two little munchkins. But your thirst for information will have to wait a day or two, because it's time for our annual Jessie love-fest, in which you humor my mormon-mommy-blogger need to tell you about how cool my husband is, to feed our egos. That's right folks, Jessie and I have officially been married four years today. It feels like a lot less when I write it down. Since we're so awesome and knowledgeable about matrimony and stuff, we're pretty pleased to have achieved this milestone despite the rumors from the paparazzi that Jessie was leaving me to study the penguins in Antarctica, or that I was running away to focus on my belly dancing career. Allow me to regale you with the most awesome parts or our union over the past year, and why I'm glad I went through them with Jessie instead of, say, George Jetson.

1. We found my wedding ring in an unlikely place after Jessie had magnanimously decided he loved me enough to buy me a new one even though it could have provided him with a handy excuse for running away to Antarctica. I believe I detailed at the time how delighted I was, so I'll spare you the sappiness.

2. We cemented our love watching the Olympics, and I decided that Jessie and I should get in training to win a figure skating gold medal. Because how cool and romantic and good for your marriage would that be? Then I remembered I have no sense of balance, and can't ice skate. And I was bummed for a minute, but then I remembered Jessie loved me anyway. So now we're going for the Nobel prize in physics together. Just as soon as we can get Madeline to sit still for the photon laser.

3. We found out we were having kid #2. And wondered if we were crazy. And endured a long pregnancy of hospital visits, morning sickness, crazy hormones, and other such unpleasantness. (And that was just Jessie. Believe me, I was feeling even worse.) And we still liked each other enough when it was all said and done to hang out together in labor and delivery and have a baby. Of which I'll post a picture, because let's face it: this post may be about Jessie, but we all want some baby pictures. (Of which I will post more once I unload a camera.)
4. We survived an appendectomy, and in the process avoided going on the annual Antimony trip. Both of which were good for our marriage and brought us together. Because Jessie had to stay home and hang out with me for a few days, and went nuts being on sick leave and cleaned the house as he is wont to do. Going through medical crises is great with Jessie. I have less housework to do for a week.

5. Jessie got a new job with a lot of perks, because he is awesome. Now he lets me play with his iphone and brings home free t-shirts and has real work parties. Oh, and he does work for his new company too, but we don't like to talk about that. As always, his nerdy work side and his obsession with geeky computer programs is endearing. And it's pretty nice he brings home a paycheck too, to pay for those pesky things like food and diapers and new shoes.

There was probably more eventful things in our fourth year of marriage, but with post-pregnancy brain I can't remember them. So, let me sum up: Being married is pretty awesome. Jessie is still a pretty great guy. Stuff happens in our life and I'm always glad Jessie is here to deal with/enjoy it with me. Because misery loves company and happy people do too. So happy anniversary, Jessita. It's been a ball. Let's do more cool stuff.
(And here for your viewing pleasure is the requisite wedding photo that these posts must have. See how in love we are. Jessie is one handsome devil in a tux.)

Kimberly "The bomb" Warner

Well, for those who haven't heard (all 2.5 of you), the little one is here! And we're just hanging out enjoying her. This momentous occasion means my normally non-visual blog deserves some pictures:

Introducing the amazing, the one, the only, Kimberly Leona Warner! Born November 8, 2010. 7 lbs 12 oz, 19 1/2 inches, 1794.32 on the Warner scale of cuteness. An absolute joy in the day we've had her. So, some frequently asked questions (or just stuff I want to make up):

The birth story: I'm not way into posting about every detail of labor. So no blow by blow of every dilation and push and whatnot. But an overview: I was induced one day past my due date. And no offense to all those people who love natural labors with minimal interventions, but it was fantastic. It was so relaxing to know when I was having the baby, to arrange for babysitting for Madeline, get all packed, enjoy a shower and all that jazz, and leisurely set everything up at the hospital. Getting an IV before you're in the midst of contractions is more awesome than in the midst of them. Anyway, the labor was about six hours, I had an awesome epidural, everything was fairly painless and easier than with Madeline, and Kimberly made her debut healthy and happy. And mom was healthy and happy too. Moral of the story: induction and epidurals are, in my opinion, the bomb.

The name: No story behind Kimberly. We just like it. We are well aware that she will probably end up being called by various people Kim, Kimber, Kimmy, Lopy, and CutestGirlEver. But for now, we call her Kimberly. Leona is my grandmother's name. My grandmother is also the bomb. Jessie would like to point out that Warner is our last name. Which is why it is also hers. We are also the bombs.

The baby: So far Kimberly has been a good baby. Which is what all mothers are obliged to say unless their babies have colic or sneak out at night to meet boys. She eats well, likes to sleep, likes to be held, poops well, and so far has a much quieter cry than our siren Madeline. So life is good. She has a lot of hair, cute chubby cheeks, and no longer kicks me at one in the morning. All reasons she is the bomb.

The sister: Madeline appears to adore the baby from the limited time she has been allowed to be in the same room with her. She has also tried to poke her eyes out, but we don't talk about that. She doesn't seem to grasp the concept that it's the same baby that has been much conversed about from my tummy, and she definitely prefers the name Lopy to Kimberly. Results on what happens when you keep them in the same house for more than half an hour are forthcoming. But I feel obliged to let you know that Madeline is also the bomb. Lest you accuse me of favoring one of my children.

The dad: Jessie likes the baby. He likes talking about his girls. He does not like sitting around hospital rooms, but does it anyway because he likes being a martyr. He was very helpful and supportive during labor as husbands should be, but probably only because there were about ten nurses sitting around ready to beat him up should he show any signs of not being the bomb.

The mom: Cami is pretty awesome. Feeling, all in all, about ten times better than after Madeline's labor. Enjoying the room service and all the buttons to move beds, turn on televisions, shut doors, and build Lego towers without having to expend energy. Cami is not the bomb. Cami is the bomb's mother.

The bomb: The bomb has been diffused. Nothing will be blowing up in the near future.

All other inquiries should be directed to our office of public affairs, located on the fifth floor. Life is good. We leave you with the visual representation of life being the bomb. Please feel free to disregard the strange look on my face and enjoy the baby cuteness and Jessie actually making an appropriate picture face.

Our last weekend in what we pretend is normalacy.

Hey sports fans. I could regale you with tales about how delighted I am BYU is actually playing football today, or how much I really hope TCU creams Utah today. (Please, hold your hate mail. I know many of you are Ute fans with great arguments about why Utah should win. Stuff it. You won't change my mind.) But I know the action you're all interested in is the athletic debut of the newest Warner spawn. Since there's been no action on that front this week, we're resigning ourselves to waiting until Induction Monday. The biggest sporting event of the year. Two days and counting. Not that I'm counting. Okay, you caught me. I'm totally counting. It's kind of hard not to when you're two days away. Your brain just sort of automatically calculates these sorts of things.

Anyway. I'm basically freaking out a little bit, and trying to think of things we need to do before we can have a baby, and realizing it's all pretty much done. And there's nothing to do but wait. Madeline keeps encouraging her younger sister to make an entrance by yelling through my belly button. Jessie is all for drinking the castor oil to get things rolling. I'm all of a sudden wondering if I'm ready to parent a toddler and a newborn and realizing it's much too late to be asking these questions. So off we go to D-day. Next time you hear from me, we should be announcing big things. Name, weight, social security number. All the good stuff. Wish us luck.

Letter to Lopy

Dear Jalopy,

This is your mother. As much as I have loved being your snug little home the past nine months, it's becoming painfully obvious to me that either you or one of my major organs has got to go. This whole sharing space thing isn't working anymore. And since I'm rather fond of my bladder, stomach, and lungs (as bladders, stomachs and lungs go), I thought it might be nice if you'd decide to make your appearance in the world. Immediately. Since this would also keep you from banging your head on my pelvis and being kicked by your older sister during diaper changes, I'm confident this would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. I promise we'll be nice and feed you often and dress you in reasonably fashionable clothes. Trust me, onesies are all the rage with newborns right now. Anyway, my hips and I would both appreciate celebrating your birthday today. Thanks for your consideration.

Lovingly,

Your mother

P.S. That's my nice, diplomatic way of saying Get Out. In case you didn't catch that. Being a fetus and all.

Happy Halloween! (And I'm still pregnant. Surprise.)

It's officially November. And I'm really excited, because that means we're having a baby this month. In a week, actually. I'm officially scheduled for induction on the 8th if Jalopy hasn't made her appearance before then, so there is a light at the end of the tunnel. We're officially taking bets on when she'll show up. The entrance fee is a plate of cookies, to be left on my doorstep, and you can submit your choice of date telepathically. If you guess correctly, you can have the satisfaction of knowing your cookies were definitely my favorite. And that you are the smartest person ever.

Actually, we really don't need any cookies, because between Jessie's work party and two trunk or treats, Madeline managed to bring home at least six months worth of junk food. Which will disappear in two weeks if I'm not disciplined. Madeline went as Dorothy to the Friday activities, and I was the wicked witch. On Saturday she dressed as a Broncos cheerleader to match her uncle Bryce who was a Broncos football player. They may be having a bad season, but the whole team will probably be comforted by the cute pictures we got. Jessie was a nerd to match the rest of the people in his department at work. So basically, he just went to work as usual but we added a pair of glasses. (Kidding, Jessie. We all know you usually wear a tuxedo to work.) All in all, it was an awesome holiday. And we made it through the actual Halloween day without having a baby, which was a relief, because it was the one day I was firmly committed to not going into labor. No Halloween babies for us. Because birthdays on Halloween=way too much sugar and hyperactivity.

Out of the mouths.

Madeline is getting quite independent, as always, and the latest manifestation of this is wanting to say her own prayers. This is how her last prayer went for lunch:

"Heavenly Father. Bless this day. And the pumpkins and the ghosts. And then a nap. When it is dark. It's not dark yet. Light outside. And at work. Bless Daddy at work...(with prompting) bless the food. And Jayden's party. Name of Christ. Amen."

I'm pretty sure we'll keep this girl. Because when she's not making me cry,I'm laughing hysterically. Although the other day I asked her to pick up her toys repeatedly. Finally I said, "It would make mommy so happy if you picked up your toys." She turned her back on me and ran away. Then she looked back, smirked, and said, "Mommy sad." Little punk. In other news, if we watch Cinderella one more time this week, the DVD might accidentally get lost. Because I can only sleep through it about 100 times before I need a change of pace.

Thinking about babies and baby brothers who aren't babies.

Not much has changed around here lately, because I've officially entered waiting mode. Pretty much nothing can hold my attention for long except wondering when this little girl will decide to make an appearance. I've made up my mind it won't be for three weeks until her actual due date to try and avoid disappointment, but that's hard to remember when everyone keeps telling me it could be anytime. Drat all the well-wishing and kind people I run around with. We had another doctor's appointment and things are progressing well. I'm dilated to a 2, which basically means she could hang out there for another month or make a surprise appearance tomorrow (just because it's my brother's farewell and I told Jessie I cannot go into labor this weekend because I'm too busy.) You know that you, the blogging world and my facebook acquaintances, will be at least in the top 50 people I tell, so be sure to wait eagerly for any unexpected updates. But don't wait too eagerly or you'll throw off my calm, collected, patient waiting.

In the meantime, we're keeping busy so that I have as little time as possible to brood. Madeline and I have been doing a lot of shopping and thinking about getting ready for Halloween. (We don't actually do anything because we object to productivity around here.) Although the other day, thanks to some on the ball neighbors, I actually did a Halloween craft. Me. An honest to goodness craft. And it doesn't look like a first grader did it. I may have to post pictures. Until then, I don't blame you for being skeptical. And this weekend will be busy, as I mentioned, because my little brother is giving his last talk in church before his mission. Formerly known as a farewell. I can't believe the little squirt is actually old enough to go, but he assures me it's true, and since he has to shave every day, I'm starting to believe him. I better go warn the people of Chile so they'll know what they're getting into.

More Madeline.

So I know you have all been waiting with baited breath to hear more about our favorite resident toddler maniac. Because she almost never makes an appearance on this blog. Madeline has been undergoing some changes, and I'm not sure if they're natural toddler phases or a response to the big change coming up, but we're just trying not to get thrown for a loop every time she decides to mix things up. Currently, she's on a hair strike. Which means if I try and get near her head with a brush or comb, she screams bloody murder and runs away and hides. So we're doing a lot of headbands, because they're the only thing she'll let me put in. We're also on a nap strike. After a phase where she was waking up at 5 every morning for almost a week, we started putting her to bed earlier in hopes that she would cease and desist. It worked like a charm and she started sleeping in until seven. And promptly gave up napping. And I cried. But given the choice between getting up at five or giving up my nap in favor of an extra hour of peace and quiet in the evening, I am reluctantly giving up on napping.

Madeline has also been acting out more and more as she's realized the advantage she has over me in energy and tenacity. Somewhere along the line she realized that I can't physically make her do what I want because I am too fat and slow and tired. So certain activities have become a battle, and putting her on timeout has become almost impossible because she just refuses to stay there. The other day I tried and she slapped me in the face. We also experienced our first full-fledged store tantrum today. We've had minor tantrums before, but never on the floor, kicking and screaming fits. Those have generally been reserved for home viewing. But today, I was that mother trying desperately to ignore the looks as my daughter collapsed in the front of the grocery store and screamed and kicked and generally made a scene. And I promptly vowed to never judge anyone with unruly children again. If your child is a well-behaved angel in stores, at home, and in general, please refrain from giving me looks when mine is in full revolt. You have no idea how easily it could be you.

Anyway. That's the scoop on our little fireball. The maddening thing is that she's still as adorable as ever, and entirely too good at making me forget how terrible her tantrums can be. And her sweet moments are just as intense and more unforgettable than the bad ones. So crazy me, I'm looking forward to what I'm sure will be another little fireball with great anticipation. A true glutton for punishment.

Rude Awakenings.

As you can tell from my last post, we've been having fun around here. Madeline has all of a sudden become a great fan of temper tantrums. My normally sweet, well-behaved little girl is still sweet and well-behaved- if you don't try to make her do anything she doesn't want to do or punish her for misbehavior. We've been trying to remain sane and remember Madeline is a two year old who isn't intentionally trying to drive us into the nut house. The fun continued this morning, however, when Madeline woke up at 5:45 and came running into our room wide awake. She then proceeded to hop into the middle of the bed and take up more space than should be feasibly possible for two and a half foot munchkin.

Being the great parents we are, Jessie and I tried to ignore her and sleep anyway. But after twenty minutes of getting pummeled and climbed on and getting edged ever closer to the side of the bed, I found I couldn't ignore Madeline anymore when she literally kicked me out of bed. Luckily I landed on a body pillow I keep on the floor next to me. And oddly enough, my first feeling at hitting the floor was relief that I was away from Madeline and now only being kicked by one child. (Madeline is already pretty good at waking up her little sister when I don't want her to. A skill I'm sure she will continue to perfect.) It was actually fairly comfortable on the floor, and I wasn't fighting anyone for space. But my solitude only lasted about two minutes, when Madeline became concerned when I didn't come back up to the bed and jumped down to find me. And I discovered having a twenty-five pound child cannonball onto your stomach is definitely more uncomfortable than being kicked out of bed by said twenty-five pound child. Then the poking and prodding and kicking began again, and I gave up on getting any more sleep.

With that kind of start to the day, I was pleasantly surprised that we managed to make it through the day without any major nervous breakdowns or dissolving into tears. Madeline and I are actually back on good terms and enjoying each other's company. Here's hoping the good times continue. And that tomorrow we get to sleep past 6 am.

The story of lunchtime.

Around noon I tried to get Madeline to eat lunch. I asked her repeatedly what she would like and if she was hungry. I gave her several examples and options. She totally ignored me for twenty minutes. I gave up and went to load the dishwasher.

Five minutes after I started doing dishes, she came into the kitchen and threw herself on the floor and screamed. "Lunch!"

I am trying to be patient. "What do you want? Yogurt? A sandwich? Pancakes?" She pulls out a piece of cheese from the refrigerator and starts to unwrap it. "Okay. You can have a cheese sandwich."

"No. No pancakes. No sandwich. Cheese!"

"You can't have just cheese. You have to eat it on a sandwich."

"No! Madeline open the cheese!"

Repeat this conversation six times. I give up again and go back to doing dishes. Five minutes later Madeline gets in the fridge, pulls out a loaf of bread, and screams, "Sandwich!"

"Okay. Would you like a cheese sandwich or a jelly sandwich?"

"No jelly. No cheese. Bread!"

"You can't have a sandwich with just bread. Would you like cheese on your bread?"

"No. No jelly. No meat. No cheese. Bread!"

Repeat three times until I give up and just make her a baloney and cheese sandwich without asking her permission. She climbs up into her chair, screaming the whole time, and I give her the sandwich and go to make pancakes for myself. Two minutes later, she screams that she wants to get out. I look and she has had one small piece of baloney.

"You didn't eat anything. Will you eat some more?"

"No! Get out!"

"Do you want some pancakes?"

"No! No pancakes! Get out!"

Repeat four times. (Starting to sound familiar?) I give up and let her out and finish making my pancakes while she has hysterics on the floor because she wants her nose wiped and I haven't done it because it's unclear what she wants when she's speaking in gibberish and yelling into the floor. I sit down to eat and ask her if she will stop crying and ask me clearly what she wants.

"Please pancakes!" she sobs.

I get her some pancakes while she cries because I'm breaking it into small pieces and cries because I'm putting syrup on it for her, and cries when I stop putting on the syrup because she's screaming "no syrup!" and starts screaming "please syrup!". We sit down to eat.

We eat for about thirty seconds when she demands I refill her juice. And then has a fit because she wants to put the lid back on her cup herself. And then cries because the lid is on and she can't get it off. And then cries when I take it off.

We have a very pleasant lunch, punctuated by screaming every ten seconds because a) her juice lid is not acceptable b) she needs her nose wiped again c) she wants cookies d)I have two vitamin pills to take and she has only one e) her sandwich is still visible on the other side of the table f) life is a hard, miserable existence and she is clearly being abused.

We finish lunch and I have decided, at this point, that someone must be either sick or exhausted and should go down for a nap early. Madeline screams at me for trying to wash her hands and wipe her nose, and then because her nose isn't wiped, and then because she is tired. Then she runs away while I clean up lunch.

She proceeds to play happily and without complaint with her toys for the next hour and a half, a smile on her face, without once asking me to do anything except try on a pair of sunglasses.

I give up on life, decide my daughter is bipolar, and start searching online for boarding schools that take bipolar two year olds with snotty noses.

I love it when the month changes.

We're almost to October, and I can't convey how excited that makes me. Because there is a fairly decent chance I could have a baby in October. (Although I'm still resigning myself to November. Let's not get foolishly optimistic.) At any rate, I will be full-term this month. And October should have a lot of things to keep me busy and speed us towards the due date. For instance, my brother-in-law is getting married. We get to watch general conference. (Which is exciting because I love the prophet and apostles, and also because I can listen to them while reclining on a couch. Win-win.) My brother is leaving on his mission to Chile. And Halloween will soon be upon us. Mix in doctor's appointments almost every week, and we'll be pretty busy.

Poor Madeline is somewhat oblivious to the sudden change her life is about to take. She is very much aware that there is a baby sister coming, and she knows that makes Mommy tired and uninteresting, but she just has no way of grasping the magnitude of what a newborn baby will do to her schedule. When she's throwing fits or being particularly naughty, I admit I revel in the thought. When she's being adorable and loving and helpful, I feel kind of sad our one on one time is coming to an end. But I'm sure that once we get over the boring newborn thing and the jealousy, having a built in playmate 24 hours a day will more than compensate her for her loss of attention. Fortunately, we don't have to deal with this change for another month. Until then we just have to explain to Madeline why she can't go to school until she's five. Which may be just as traumatic.

Madeline's double life.

Madeline, seeing how tired and ready to be done with pregnancy I am, has kindly been stepping up her efforts to make the time fly by. Mostly by playing Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde. Some of her antics are pretty cute, and some are not so adorable.

Cute: Her new obsession with babies- hugs, kisses, giving them binkies, and generally being friendly.
Not Cute: Her new obsession with randomly hitting and kicking babies out of the blue.

Cute: Her eagerness to help me clean. Scrubbing the walls with rags, picking up her toys and dirty laundry without supervision, putting away shoes and clothes, etc.
Not Cute: The fact that she causes most of the messes I'm cleaning up. Trying to carry a bowl of cereal and milk around the house, getting raw eggs out of the fridge and smearing them across the floor, pulling all the toys out of her toybox at once, scattering goldfish around the house in an artistic fashion.

Cute: Memorizing Oh the Places You'll Go and other books and reading them back to me enthusiastically (even if I can't understand half of what she's saying.)
Not Cute: Demanding I read the same book over and over ten times in a row and throwing fits if I don't comply.

Cute: Running into our bed at six-thirty in the morning excited to snuggle with Mom and Dad and get them up for the day.
Not Cute: Running into our bed at six-thirty in the morning excited to snuggle with Mom and Dad and get them up for the day.

Cute: Running to the door to greet Daddy when he gets home, and practically falling down with excitement when he lets her wait for the carpool with him in the morning.
Not Cute: The tantrums and sobbing when Daddy leaves for work or meetings because he doesn't love her and is probably never coming back.

Cute: Making up dances and songs for our Mom's entertainment.
Not Cute: Making up dances and songs stark naked after baths and running the the house in said manner screaming because getting dressed and having your hair done is child abuse.

You get the idea. We sure are glad to have Madeline around, making our lives interesting, joyful, and occasionally stressful beyond all belief. Reminds us why we're having another one.

More of the same from us. Woohoo.

We've been alternating around here between being very busy and being very tired. We had a wonderful weekend at our stake conference. I really enjoyed the Saturday night session without Madeline distracting us from the talks, and Sunday we joined the rest of Utah county in listening to Sister Beck, Elder Holland, and President Packer. Quite the lineup.

We followed up this great spiritual weekend with two days of nausea, feeling exhausted nonstop, and feeling randomly anxious. Gotta love pregnancy hormones. Madeline got tired of me crashing on the couch while she watched movies and having to be dragged out of bed after she woke up from naps. (For the record, Madeline is not a gentle alarm clock. If anyone is having trouble waking up teenagers in the morning, she's available for work.) But we've felt a little better today, and got out of the house a bit, and Madeline got play her heart out with her little neighborhood friends. So life is good for a while. And maybe we'll finally get around to finishing up the last baby things we've been putting off for a month, like rounding up pacifiers and bottles, and fixing up a diaper station, and other riveting tasks. Or maybe not. I figure if we have diapers, clothes and a crib, we'll figure out the rest. In seven weeks. Seven weeks and four days. Not that we're counting.

Vacation!

All of a sudden I feel like it's fall. This makes me a little bit sad, but mostly pretty happy. For several reasons. First, because the temperature will be dropping, so I might actually venture out of my air-conditioned fortress. Also because it means we're officially less than two months from D-day. And autumn is just my favorite season all around, so win-win-win.

To celebrate the onset of September, we went on a family weekend getaway to St. George. I'd never really spent time there before, but it was a lot of fun. We went to Tuacahn and saw Tarzan, climbed around on a bunch of red rocks, spent a lot of time swimming, shopping, and golfing, and generally relaxed at the condo my parents rented. I may have spent a bit more time lounging than the others, as I was a bit under the weather. Madeline had a blast being spoiled and eating junk food and not sleeping at all. A nice way to spend a holiday weekend, overall.

Now we're back to real life, and being obsessed with having a baby in two months. Here's what's notable the last week or so:
-I finally had to ditch my wedding ring as the heat in St. George made my fingers fatter. It took a lot longer this time than with Madeline, so I'm okay with this development.
-We switched this month from appointments every 4 weeks to every 2 weeks. We might still be eight weeks away, but this is encouraging. It makes me feel like things are happening. Even if it's only that I'm getting weighed twice as often.
-Jalopy is getting stronger and kicking more. Usually when I'm trying to sleep. And occasionally hard enough that I gasp for breath. So much for hoping this baby would be calmer than Madeline.
-I'm not sleeping much at night anymore. I'll leave you to imagine how sad this makes me.

Anyway. That's what's exciting in the life of Cami. Until next time.

The great rhetorical questions of our times.

Sometimes, I feel like I had a really awesome day because I got around to mopping the floor. Is this reason to celebrate, or a mark of how unproductive I have become? And is it horrible that accomplishing this one thing makes me feel like I've fulfilled my chore quota today? (Never fear. The gnawing doubt that mopping the floor qualifies me as Martha Stewart drove me to finish folding the laundry as well. So we chased away any residual guilt.)

I'm afraid Madeline is on the verge of giving up naps. Mostly because she'll still sleep a few hours usually, but not until at least 2 or 3 pm, and usually because I coerce her into it. And then she wants to stay up later. I let her because I don't want to give up MY afternoon naps. Is this bad parenting? Is this going to backfire on me when she decides to quit humoring me around November 7th and I lose my afternoon respite and my solid eight hours every night all in one fell swoop?

I am sort of having the same dilemma with potty training. In some ways, Madeline is showing every sign of being ready to attempt it. But she's really, really stubborn and refuses to let me call the shots. If she wants to sit on the potty all day, she does. But if she doesn't want to poop in the toilet, no amount of bribery will change the situation. So I kind of want to put it off until after we're acclimated to a new sister. Is it bad of me to put off potty training for my own sanity? Is my two-year old exercising too much power in our household?

These are the musings of a bewildered mother. Thanks for listening. Let's move on to September so that when I tell people I'm having a baby in two months it's actually true. So long, August.

Okay. Children really are awesome.

I can't leave that last post at the top of my feed for long, lest people think I am ungrateful. Because drat these two girls, every time they try my patience, I can't forget how cute they are. Today I had another ultrasound because they had to check to make sure my placenta previa had cleared up (it did), and shoot. Little black and white arms and legs kicking around on a computer screen are so dratted adorable. Our little Jalopy is about 3 1/2 pounds now, and was determined to make up for the new ills she's been imposing upon me by passing all the doctor's tests with flying colors. The glucose test, iron levels, growth, heart rate, weight gain, etc. Little overachiever. Only ten more weeks until she will be big enough to come out.

And not to leave out the other little munchkin-I came out of my appointment and there she was with grandma, outfitted in a DI princess crown and Cinderella camera and making all the little old grandpas coming out post surgery appointments fawn over her cuteness. Because she is a show off. A cute one, but a show off nonetheless. And we shamelessly encourage her.

Anyway. You can tell I don't like being a mother. If this post is too disgustingly sappy for you, refer to the one below and feel comforted that more posts complaining about small limbs in my ribs are probably forthcoming. To bring us all back down to earth.

The joys of children

I'm starting to feel pregnant. Surprise. It seems like the third trimester has decided to make an appearance in the past week or two. Meaning my stomach all of a sudden feels rather large, my back is starting to ache, my feet are starting to swell. I'm debating whether it's too early to give up on shaving my legs for the duration. I might have to continue to make an effort until it's cool enough to wear pants on a regular basis. I suppose these are some of the perks of being pregnant during the summer. Bless Madeline for being born in April.

But enough of my pregnancy woes, and more of the hijinks of my first offspring. Madeline is as feisty and independent as ever. She recently figured out that she can get out of her toddler bed and leave her room without waiting for explicit permission. Which is great in the morning when she'll come crawl into bed with me and I don't have to get up to get her. But not so awesome when I put her down for a nap or bedtime and she decides she's not ready to sleep. I love two year olds. Madeline has also gotten very into letters and words. We recently acquired bathroom crayons, and she loves to have me write words on the side of the bathtub. Oddly enough, she often asks me to write "Warner" and "Cami". I didn't know she knew our last name. Other favorite words for the tub wall include "Daddy" and "kangaroo". This is what we do everyday. Aren't you jealous?

An uneventful Friday.

Madeline and I are on strike today. I'm not sure what Madeline is striking against. Sleep, presumably, since she woke up at six and took a relatively shortened nap. I'm on strike against chores. (Well, I started after doing the dishes and straightening a bit this morning. Because that would have made my strike self-punishing as I sat and watched the dirty dishes mold.) I decided that when I clean the house, you can't tell what I did .5-24 hours later. So I'm not doing it today. Until my house becomes a smoldering heap of dirt, or nothing happens and I realize my life is meaningless. Whichever. In the meantime, we're bored stiff. We're also boycotting Cinderella, we're sick of books and games, and I'm too lazy to go to the park. So here we sit. We got desperate and painted our nails. Well, Madeline sat there and I painted both of our nails. We do Madeline's occasionally, but I haven't painted my nails in...years probably. They are now bright pink. This is how bored we are. Hopefully Jessie will come home soon and relieve us of our doldrums. Or we might end up doing our hair and actually breaking out the makeup. If I can find it. Heaven help us.

What we've been up to.

I think I've officially become an occasional blogger. We'll blame it on pregnancy and see if I become more verbose after I'm no longer tired and prone to complaints. (These are my excuses for not blogging. Laziness, and not wanting to impose my melancholy moods on you. I know you're grateful.) Actually, the last few weeks have been relatively eventful. We celebrated my brother's birthday, went on a picnic up the canyon, visited farm country and the gardens at Thanksgiving Point, went to a few ward parties, visited with some friends, and have generally been enjoying summer now that Jessie has the time. Madeline's been enjoying the outings, and talks about each one for days and weeks afterwords. She's really fond of telling me about the baby kangaroo she saw at our ward party, and asks every day to go up to the mountains to throw rocks in the river.

Jessie is still trying to make up the void in his life left by school by doing everything I'm supposed to be doing, and I'm not complaining. Not to brag, but the other day he told me to take a Sunday afternoon nap while he tidied up a little bit. I woke up to a completely clean house and dinner two hours later. I usually refrain from making this blog into a memorial to Jessie, but sheesh: what a guy. Madeline has been a champ too, being really cooperative about picking up her toys and anything else at floor level this old pregnant woman doesn't want to bend over to get. Singing the clean up song from nursery all the while, incidentally. She must take after her dad. A girl could do worse than those two.

Bring on August.

Welcome to August. We're optimistic that August is going to be a good month around here. One great thing has already made this August particularly noteworthy: Jessie finished his MBA program! Congratulations, Mr. Master of Business Administration. We're all excited you now have the skills to lead this Warner empire into the future. Mostly we're excited to have Monday nights and Saturday mornings back. Because Madeline just doesn't appreciate the Mommy Madeline nights as much as she should, considering I've watched Cinderella and Up way more often than is healthy for an adult person.

Another big milestone: We've officially crossed the hundred day mark. Which still means three more months of being pregnant, but we're getting there. Madeline is getting impatient for her little sister to come out, but I keep explaining that she needs to get a little bigger first. But secretly I'm with Maddie. November can't come fast enough. Although now that Jessie has some free time, he's decided we actually should decorate the nursery. And he's made a list of baby-related projects he should do before the little bundle of joy arrives. Because he's antsy if he doesn't have a project. So it looks like we'll be organizing furniture and hanging pictures this month. And then Jessie will be doing some sewing projects and knitting a baby quilt.

A day with Madeline makes you glad there's a night.

It was one of those days. Where it is easier to explain what happened by giving you a rundown of Madeline's activities. So, let me 'splain (no there is too much, let me sum up):

-Madeline broke the only VCR we have in the house and possibly ruined a video that doesn't belong to us in the bargain. And then got mad that she can't watch her videos.
-Madeline learned how to open the child lock on the fridge. And now we are on constant watch to protect the string cheese and the fruit punch.
-Madeline ripped a library book. Repeatedly.
-Madeline stole crackers from the pantry all day.
-Madeline repeatedly opened all the DVDs in the house and tried to put them in the computer and the DVD player. Luckily, I think they avoided scratching.
-Madeline pulled all the rags out of the drawer.
-Madeline wasted half a box of tissues because every time I head to blow my nose, she decided she needed to as well. She also wasted multiple wipes trying to change her baby's diaper.
-Madeline asked to go swimming and watch fireworks every five minutes.
-Madeline dumped all the clothes from the laundry basket and then used it as a stool to try and put on Daddy's shaving cream and deodorant.

I could go on. But you get the idea. Sometimes, I wonder if a sinus infection or a rambunctious two year old is more draining and exhausting. I think I'll go enjoy being sick for a few hours. Lest you get the wrong impression, let me say that I love the dear adorable girl. But bless whoever invented sleeping children.

The pioneers did not have Instacares. So I salute them.

Happy Pioneer Day everyone. Our Pioneer Day has been eventful so far. I was looking forward to a relaxing weekend with the family, but instead was visited by a friendly bug and ended up with a sinus infection. So the weekend hasn't been as restful as I hoped. But between the not breathing and the sore throat and the pressure in my head, we've had some good holiday times. For instance, the nurse at the Instacare told me I was small for six months pregnant, which makes every pregnant woman a little bit happier. And I've been eating a lot of ice cream without guilt.

Madeline planned our 24th of July festivities. She's been talking about the fireworks non-stop since the fourth of July, and asks every day if we can see some more. Then earlier this week, she decided we should go swimming too. Madeline is a little fish with no proper fear of drowning, so swimming with her is an amusing adventure. She likes to take off all flotation devices and jump into the deepest part of the pool unsupervised. We feel this independence will serve her well in future life. If she doesn't drown first. And ever since we got done swimming, she's been asking if it's dark yet, because she knows that means fireworks. The sun has never taken so long to go down, but I'm sure she'll survive. Hope you all are having as awesome a day as we are.

What was lost, now is found.

"Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one apiece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it?
And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost."
-Luke 15:8-9

Usually I'm not the sort of blogger that starts a blog with scripture. But today is a special occasion. Basically, my mind was blown today. Because things like this don't happen.

Here's the deal: two years ago I lost my wedding ring. It was kind of a big deal. I cried a lot. I had put it somewhere safe while my fingers blew up like sausages while I was pregnant with Madeline, and when the baby dust had settled, I couldn't find my ring anywhere. I ripped apart the house, I searched every crevice, every drawer, every bag, every pocket. We went through two moves where I searched every box coming and going. Eventually, I gave up the ring for lost. Last Christmas, Jessie gave me a replacement ring, which was an incredibly sweet thing for him to do, and I was feeling better about the whole situation.

Then, today, I was going through Madeline's baby things and boxes to try and find the bumpers for the new baby's crib. I was moving a pile of blankets off of a box.

And out fell my ring.

I was flabbergasted. Wedding rings that have been missing for two years do not just suddenly fall out of piles of blankets that we've been using regularly. But there it was.

The only thing I can think of is that it fell out of an upside down duffel bag that was on top of the pile of blankets. A duffel bag that I had searched inch by inch at least half a dozen times. Crazy and totally unlikely, but there you go. Needless to say, I am beyond thrilled to have my wedding ring back. Besides being a rather expensive investment, it obviously has a lot of sentimental value. I don't know how it managed to show up, but I'm assuming there was probably a minor miracle or two behind it. And I've probably used up my good luck and or blessing quota for the next year. But I'm okay with that.

Thank heaven for small miracles.

Somebody stop me.

So I finally like chocolate again. And I can't stop eating it. I want to do nothing but stuff my face with Little Debbie's cupcakes all day. And Swiss Rolls. And Ding Dongs. And anything else with chocolate and creme. I'm pretty sure this is how I gained all the weight with Madeline. So if someone would like to stage an intervention and save me from myself, I will name our dog after you. If we ever get a dog. I would name the baby after you, but no offense, you might have a really stupid name. Or you might be male, which would make our kid hate me all through junior high and high school. So anyway, the honor of having a canine named after you someday is at stake here. Also my waistline.

That's all. Nothing exciting is happening. I'm just having powerful chocolate cravings. You can return to your normal programming now.

It's me again. Surprise.

I feel like I start out most my posts nowadays by letting you all know that I'm still alive and here. Because you probably thought I was dead. But sometimes I have to check every morning to make sure I'm still alive, and I forget that the rest of you are up to more interesting pastimes.

Jessie is feeling a lot better and is back to work. Which means Madeline and I are back to trying to make sure the house is respectably clean and Madeline is reasonably sane and well-cared for. This has been fun the past week, because somewhere I picked up some kind of virus that has twice resulted in horrible stomach pains that have kept me up half the night. And made me nauseated and unwilling to eat again. Welcome back nausea. I didn't miss you. But hopefully my GI tract and I have finally made up and life will be good again, before we get to the part where I'm miserably fat and uncomfortable. Because I could use the breather.

But on to happier things. I bought some new shoes for the first time in about a year, and there was much rejoicing in our house. Mostly from Madeline and I. Jessie is still trying to appreciate how new shoes can brighten your life. And later today, my little brother is going through the temple for the first time, which I'm looking forward to as a relaxing and uplifting event. And Jessie is only three weeks away from being officially done with his MBA, and officially home with me more often. Permanent summer vacation, is how we're choosing to look at this important milestone. So good times are coming for all, and we'll be dancing in the street all night. Or until we get nauseous and have to lie down.

Our life as invalids

Hope you all enjoy the new header. This is what happens when Jessie is stuck at home for two days without being allowed to do anything productive. He begged to be allowed to fold laundry this morning, and then promptly fell asleep for two hours from the exertion. So we're sticking to making photo collages and watching movies.

Madeline is enjoying having Jessie home, although she's not quite getting the whole recovery concept. She knew he went to the doctor, and we tried to explain to her what happened with her Madeline doll and books, which conveniently feature an appendectomy. But although she enjoys looking at his 'owies' and wandering around complaining that her tummy hurts, she hasn't grasped the rule that she can't jump on Daddy's lap or kick him in the stomach. And since I've been trying to enforce this rule for Mommy ever since we found out I was pregnant and she still doesn't follow it, I'm pretty sure she won't be figuring it out anytime soon.

As for Jessie, he's pretty much acting like a pregnant woman. I laugh when we sit next to each other on the couch holding our stomachs and fight over the bathroom (even though there are three in our house.) Both of us are banned from heavy lifting, we both have no appetite, and both our stomachs are bloated. So we're enjoying understanding each other's pain. Although I think it's unfair that he gets narcotics. Something about being cut open being painful. Whatever.

Contrary to popular opinion, it was not all a ploy to avoid Antimony.

Well, welcome back to our wacky and exciting life. For once my lack of blogging is because there were things going on, not because I was weary of posting about pregnancy ills and Madeline's quirks. But brace yourselves- this post will contain only trace amounts of either.

We spent most of the weekend at the Lundstrom family reunion in Logan. Which is pretty much an awesome event, and I'm pretty sad for all of you who aren't Lundstroms. Basically, Lundstrom family reunions are two day sports marathons, with intense games of soccer, ultimate frisbee, dodgeball, basketball, kickball, and anything else we can think of that will wear people out and burn up some excess competitive drives. And the old people/gimps/pregnant people sit and hold babies and talk. It works out pretty well. As always, we had a great time but were pretty exhausted by the end of the festivities.

Here's where our story gets fun. We stopped at my parents ward on the way home (since they have church two hours later than us and we could sleep in. I came up with this brilliant idea. Sometimes I am amazing.) Towards the end of church, Jessie started having stomach pain. Having a history of ulcers, he thought it would eventually pass. But instead it kept getting worse. And worse. Until 10:30 at night when he declared he was dying and decided he wanted to go to the hospital. (Wimp. Just because his stomach was exploding.) In an exciting turn of events, they were quick to inform us that he had appendicitis. (Always needs attention, that Jessie. Sheesh.) So early this morning, he had surgery to remove the little bugger. Happy Independence Day, Jessie! Your appendix has broken off from the motherland and become its own entity!

Anyway. So we spent most of the day/night at the hospital, being awesome, and then they got sick of Jessie making excel sheets charting his recovery time, so they sent us home. And here we shall remain, reveling in our appendectomy convalescence, until Jessie gets sick of me asking him if he's okay. On a totally unrelated note, this means sadly that we will not be making our annual Antimony trip this weekend. I am very broken up about this, and begged Jessie to reconsider, but he was adamant. So no stories about Antimony stealing my soul this year. Maybe next year. We can only hope.

It's a baby!

Well, in case you haven't heard, the results are in. And there's going to be even more estrogen around here. Just like my illustrious mother, we'll be beginning our family with two girls in a row! We're pretty excited about this. I'm really glad Madeline will have a sister to play with, and that I don't have to do any extra sewing projects to recover pink things in blue. And I get to reuse all of the cute dresses and shoes that Madeline didn't spend nearly enough time in. Now that I know, I'm having to restrain myself from doing up the crib and stocking the baby's dresser. I have enough discipline to at least put it off until Monday. Maybe. Or we might be ready for this baby by Sunday afternoon, even though she won't be ready for us for another four months. (She! Isn't that great?)

One thing that probably won't be ready for four months, however, is the name. We haven't really talked about any yet, and we're not going to narrow it down to less than three or four until after this girl makes an appearance. And we won't be sharing our contemplations, because we got a little too much input last time. Which resulted in us frantically trying to name our poor nameless child late at night after she'd already been around most of the day. And let me tell you, there's nothing more awkward than staring stupidly at a baby for twelve hours without being on a first name basis. And not knowing what to tell people when they call or visit to congratulate you and want to know what creative moniker you've bestowed on the little bundle of joy. So we're hoping to avoid that this time and decide pretty quickly.

Anyway. Hip hip hooray for little girls and sisters! And there was much rejoicing in the Warner household.

Just kidding

I know you've all been dying of suspense. So I won't keep you in the dark any longer. After an exciting day, I'm proud to announce that the newest little Warner is definitely a bouncing baby.......fetus of unknown sex. Awesome fake out, huh? I'm really not being mean. We don't know yet. Turns out the ultrasound tech at my doctor's office got sick and they couldn't find another tech to work today, so my appointment was canceled and rescheduled for Friday. I was definitely disappointed, but we'll live until Friday. Maybe. So stay tuned for the real announcement and we'll try to actually introduce appropriate pronouns to this baby story in the near future.

On fathers and father related things.

I guess I was supposed to post a tribute to fathers yesterday. Now I am officially uncool. So a little late: Yay for fathers. Mine, yours, his. Without fathers, there would be no us. Anyway, for father's day, Jessie got a new grill, and now he is a real manly man. We celebrated with steak, which Jessie cooked, because I am not manly enough to touch the grill. (Just kidding. Jessie would let me use the grill if I wanted to. He has no gender stereotypes except his nagging belief that Excel and budget sheets are definitely manly territory. But I use any excuse to let someone else do the cooking.) Unfortunately, I have my mother's tendency to buy way too much food for festive occasions. Fortunately, we had some friends to help us eat it so it wasn't so bad. And it gave Madeline the opportunity to kiss a boy. But that is a different story.

We celebrated Father's Day by taking my little brother down to Provo so he could start summer term at BYU. It brought warm fuzzies into my heart. And a lot of memories of my freshman year at BYU, hanging out in Heritage Halls and generally getting into mischief. I tried to impart my wisdom to my younger sibling, but I'm sorry to say he'll probably ignore it, and be better off for it too. Which tells you he's a smart kid.

That's about it. But I can't leave you without reminding our fans that tomorrow is the big day, in which we discover if our newest spawn will be of the male or female variety. stay tuned for the exciting developments. Or just, you know, ignore us for a few months and check back for pictures in November and you can find out that way. But I don't have the patience.

The life and times of a two year old

Hey everybody! I know, I just posted two days ago. Crazy. I'm not due for more witty sarcasm for at least a week. Somebody stop me. But sometimes, you just have to bite the bullet.

Madeline is getting older and wiser. Or at least she thinks she is. Basically, we've hit that lovely do-it-yourself stage, and any and all help from me is an affront to her dignity. If I do up the straps on her shoes, she has to undo them and do it herself. She wants to be the one to put in movies and DVDs, even if it is upside down. She wants to buckle herself in the car seat, clip her own nails, pick out and put on her own clothes, tuck herself in, and cross the road without holding my hand. Note that a good majority of these things are dangerous/impossible/destructive for a two year old, and therein lies our source of tension. Don't get me wrong, I would love for her to be able to get dressed herself, use the bathroom herself, and be totally independent. But statistics suggest she'll be dependent on me for some portion of her needs for at least 16 more years. We're trying to explain that to her, but she tends to get distracted by bugs in the window or the sun going behind a cloud, so we're doing what we can with sporadic thirty second lectures.

Madeline is also getting excited for big changes in her life. Not the ones that could happen in the next six months, like potty training or sisterhood. Madeline looks forward to things far in the future, because she likes to see the big picture. She likes to put on a backpack and wait by the window for a school bus to take her to kindergarten. (I haven't the heart to tell her that the school buses have taken a hiatus until September and she'll be sitting at that window for a while.) She's all about getting married in a pretty dress, either at the temple or WalMart. Whichever is closer. And she's definitely got her career as a truck driver all mapped out, and is just frustrated that they won't give her a driver's license until she gets tall enough to reach the pedals. Or, if that doesn't work out, she'll probably become a professional streaker, as she has recently discovered the thrill of running around au natural. We're such proud parents.

On feeling fat versus feeling pregnant.

My appetite for chocolate has returned. As I type, I am eating a giant bowl of chocolate ice cream. This probably isn't a good thing. Especially since my belly has started sticking out beyond the point of concealment. I thought I was excited for that part, after the weeks of no appetite and no weight gain, but then I remembered that nothing prepares you for feeling like a blimp. I know I look like what I am supposed to look like right now. But try telling that to my ego, which is busy trying to convince me that I am the Titantic. Hopefully this phase will wear off before I start getting extremely large, and thus correspondingly more demoralized. But I am going to have to remind myself to go easy on the ice cream. Drat the return of my taste buds.

Anyway. That's about it. Because as you've probably noticed, I've been feeling remarkably un-literary for the past month. Maybe someday I'll get my blogging groove back. Then I'll regale you with fun stories about how I'm trying to decide whether or not to toilet train Madeline or how Jessie will be done with school in two months and we will be setting off bottle rockets. Fun things like that.

My offspring and my poor choices.

Recently Madeline has decided she's a big fan of the Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde movement. When she's happy, she's downright adorable. But when she's not happy, heaven help us all. She's rediscovered temper tantrums and we're having a lot of fun trying to convince her that being happy is way more fun. But I'm trying to focus on the downright adorableness, because that gives me less headaches. On that front, our big news for the day is that Madeline finally learned how to pedal her bike (really a tricycle/scooter thing). I've been trying to teach her for a month and today she finally connected the dots. It was kind of amazing how excited I was. I'm usually excited about Madeline's accomplishments, but not in a I want to shout it to the world kind of way, and tell random strangers, and give her a trophy. I haven't really been like that since she was learning to roll over and crawl and other such milestones. I blame the pregnancy hormones.

Speaking of which, I just realized there's a baby in there. Because the last week or so there's been some weird fluttering/flipping action going on that catches me off guard at weird times of day and reminds me: oh yeah. Something is alive in there. I'd kind of forgotten about that part. But I'm glad, because I can't wait for it to really start jiving so I can let Madeline feel it, because I'm pretty sure she'll think it's a hoot and we'll be set for entertainment for the next five months. Oh, and so Jessie can feel it move. But let's be honest, he's been there/done that, so Madeline's reaction is going to be more novel.

And, lastly, because I would just like to inform you all that I must be crazy. Because I've officially committed to returning to the bane of my existence. Which, in case you missed the last three years of my life, is a little place called Antimony. Which you can read about in the archives if you want to know all about how our grudge fest. And then you can wonder, as I am, if my IQ dropped twenty points or I just enjoy punishment. I fully expect to get sucked down a river or go into premature labor in the middle of nowhere or have Madeline get eaten by a bear. But these are sacrifices we must make.

Let's all be excited!

Hi. Wow, it's June. My how time flies when we're having fun. I think life has been busy the last few weeks, but I really can't remember. Maybe I have a Memorial Day hangover. Anyway. Just thought I'd check in and let you know I'm alive. Anyway, here are some things I am excited about today, in order of importance and/or based on the order they come into my brain.

1) My brother is going to be a missionary in Chile. He will undoubtedly be awesome, and hopefully not get too friendly with earthquakes. (Just kidding Mom! No earthquakes in Chile!)

2) We find out the gender of this little bugger on June 22nd. Then I can quit calling it a little bugger. And there will be rejoicing in the land.

3) Jessie is going golfing with his company this Saturday as part of a tournament. He has never been before. Don't tell, but I think he's kind of nervous. It's kind of cute.

4) I sometimes enjoy junk food now. I ate a cookie and I liked it. Maybe food and I can start getting along now. Also, I gained a pound. I'm sure in a week I won't be excited about that. But for now I am.

That's it. I'm sure there are more things I could be excited about, but that would take too much energy. So I'll put it on my list of things to do tomorrow. Or have Jessie do it for me. He's very obliging.

Why we are not as cool as the rest of the world.

Sometimes, I am reminded why I try to avoid wildly popular music, movies, or television shows. I don't always succeed. Which is why all this Lost madness is driving me crazy. Jessie and I got hooked, and we have a Lost party every week as our family home evening activity, because we are wildly spiritual. (Jessie has class on Mondays, which is why we have FHE on Tuesdays, lest you are confused.) But then, the stupid powers that be decided to air the finale on Sunday instead of Tuesday, which didn't work out for us for several reasons. So now we're the lame people who don't know what happened on the biggest series finale of the year. And because I promised my husband I would watch it with him, I have to wait until tomorrow night. Which shouldn't be a problem for an awesomely patient person like me, who is totally unconcerned with pop culture. But sometimes a certain two year old bleeds dry the ole' well of patience, and there's none left to deal with my strange television addictions. What a sad life I lead.

Anyway. That's two woe-is-me posts in a row, so we'll move on to better and happier things. We had a good weekend with a lot of happy perks. I ate some food and I liked it. We got to go to a family baby blessing, which made me want a baby. Good thing we're working on that. And we got to go to my little brother's seminary graduation, which made me want a son to send on a mission. (Give me twenty or thirty years and I'll work on that one too.) And much as I love nursery and my happy little kids, it was nice to have a week off. Because sometimes head, shoulders, knees and toes can really wear you out if you put too much oomph into it. So happy days all around.

Let us have a moment of mild belly aching.

Allow me to take a moment to gripe. Then we'll pretend I didn't. Okay? Great.

Someone stole my second trimester happy place. I'm kind of upset about it. I've been telling myself for the last month that one day I'll randomly wake up, have energy, and have an appetite. And probably gain twenty pounds in a day when that happens. But although the nausea has lessened, it refuses to go away. And food continues to be public enemy #1. Madeline can eat a carton of yogurt faster than I can, and I tell you, I am one jealous yogurt consumer. And I am one unhappy camper if I don't get my daily nap, as poor Madeline can attest. And I'm getting fatter without really gaining any weight, which is, I admit, the one pleasant side effect of this whole food fiasco.

So basically, I'm afraid eating will never be pleasurable again, and I'm bitter at all the websites that are telling me the second trimester should be the best part of my pregnancy. And I forgave Madeline for all the pregnancy ills she ever inflicted on me, since she had the decency to quit making me sick at 14 weeks. Bless you, Madeline.

Anyway. It feels good to get that off my chest. Venting is my new favorite hobby. If anybody asks, officially I love being pregnant and I'm glowing with joy and pregnancy hormones. Happy happy joy here in pregnancy land. Don't worry, I really do love it. I'm just bitter because Jessie is eating Doritos.

Did you miss me?

Welcome back to Camiville, world! I took a little unannounced break, because I could, and I wanted to. Basically the last few weeks have been a little weird because we had a bit of a pregnancy scare, which was a bit stressful, and Madeline spent a lot of time hanging with Grandma, and Jessie had a conference for work, and I did absolutely nothing. Lest anyone freak out, rest assured that things are looking good now, and everything should be fine, and we even got to have an ultrasound today and see the little baby flipping around and stretching its legs. Which was pretty awesome. So really it was all just an excuse for me to have a week and a half long Mother's Day, with free babysitting, a clean house courtesy of my husband, a relief society retreat, and a lot of pampering in general. Sometimes I am pretty smart like that.

So, other exciting things that happened in the last two weeks, in random order: Jessie and I got eye exams and I ordered new glasses, since Madeline has smashed mine to smithereens. Jessie got his eyes dilated and apparently it was very traumatic. Madeline switched from her crib-bed to her real toddler bed, and now we have a crib sitting in our spare bedroom and I keep thinking there should be a baby in it. As mentioned before, I went to a relief society retreat at the Heber girl's camp, which was awesome, except that it was freezing and apparently long car rides on curvy roads make me puke. Thank you, pregnancy. We got to stay at the Marriot in downtown Salt Lake while Jessie was at his conference, which was exciting, because Madeline now loves elevators. We now entertain Madeline on long car rides (defined as over five minutes) by locating and chasing large tricks, school buses, Walmarts, and temples (i.e. church houses.)

So. That is what we have been doing. We're here. We're alive. And life is good. The end.

More Madeline Madness.

Once upon a time my brother complimented me by saying that I was able to make my normal boring life interesting in my blogs. (At least I took it as a compliment to my writing skills, and not an insult to my boring life.) Receiving compliments from your teenage brother is always flattering. But I'm afraid not even my trademark wit and amazing blogging skills can make a life of nausea and fatigue interesting. So instead of blogs complaining about my ills, I am forced to blog about the only other interesting phenomenon in our household. If you're sick of information about my toddler and would prefer pregnancy whining and griping, please note your dismay in our suggestion box.

Anyway. Some random quirky things about Madeline:

She switched to a bed a month ago, and after the initial panic attack upon facing change, has done really well. My major concern was that she'd now be able to get out of bed unassisted and wreak havoc on my house and sanity. Or hop into bed with me. But alas, I worried far too much. Madeline has an imaginary wall around her bed, and refuses to get out until I come into her room and tell her it's okay to leave her cell. This is a pretty awesome setup, in my opinion. The only exception is when she occasionally rolls out of bed at night. But she usually doesn't wake up when this happens, so no harm done. (I used to do that as a kid too. I'm glad she inherited some useful skills from me.)

She's getting really into temper tantrums. Which I mostly have taken to ignoring, because I have no energy to deal with them unless it's life or death. It works pretty well, because if she is really set on something and doesn't get her way, she works herself up into a angry tizzy, then informs me that since she's not happy, she'd like to go to bed please. Because that will teach me not to withhold things from her. Then we both take a nap. Sometimes if I'm really tired, I kind of hope she'll throw a tantrum. Does that make me a bad parent?

She's recently obsessed with trucks. Garbage trucks, mostly. She asks about them several times a day. And when she's cranky, we hop on Google and look at pictures of garbage trucks or school buses until she feels better.

Whenever she trips or hits herself with a toy, she apologizes to herself. I'll hear a thud from the other room, followed by "Uh oh! Sorry." She does not extend the same courtesy to Jessie and I when she elbows, hits, steps on, or otherwise maims us.

Yesterday, when I went in to get her from her nap her first words to me were: "Mommy! I have toes!" I was very happy for her.

So there's some tidbits from our life to feed your insatiable desire to know every minute detail. We are still alive and kicking and have not gone crazy yet. (Jessie might disagree, but you can take my word over his because his Master's degree is still fake for a few more months.)

A post about Jessie, who is cool and stuff.

So the big news at our house this weekend: Jessie graduated. Mostly. He has this habit of pretending to graduate and then going to class for a few more months. What a faker. But he got to walk and take pictures and all that jazz on Saturday, and we're excited because it means he is close to being officially done. I took pictures of his handsome graduating awesomeness, but blogspot still hates me. So just imagine. Jessie now has more formal education than I do, so I'm a little jealous. I might have to get a Masters in Pregnancy or something to make me feel better. Because they totally should give degrees for that, based on the fact that a) a couple pregnancies take just as long as a degree, b) it's a 24/7 job, and c) your spouse suffers. Also because graduate robes are great maternity wear.

Anyway, Jessie wasn't sure what to do with the extra time he'll have in a few months. But our stake president is on top of things like that, so just for Jessie, he split the Elder's quorum in our ward and Jessie was called as a counselor in one of the presidencies. I told him it was totally the Elder's quorum president getting revenge on him for elbowing him in the face during ward basketball. I warned him that would have consequences. All in all though, I'm happy with the trade off, because Elder's quorum meetings are not as long or as far away as school. And he gets to hang out with people in our ward instead of sitting through powerpoint presentations. Everyone wins.

A tale of young love, heartbreak, and slides.

So I took Madeline to the park this afternoon. Because I am an awesomely cool mom like that. She was enjoying sliding and swinging and trying to fall off things. Then she found a little step to sit down and rest. And along comes a boy. A little bit older than Madeline. And of course Madeline started smiling and tossing her head and the boy had no choice but to sit down next to her and chat. I was a little nervous, because you could tell he had that bad boy look, but at some point you've got to let her make her own bad choices, right? So they flirted a while and talked and chased each other around the playground.

About ten minutes later, Madeline returned to the step and sat down. And started smiling and looking around and patting the seat next to her. After a very long time (about 45 seconds) she decided her boyfriend wasn't coming back, so she stood up to run off- and lo and behold, there came the boy around the corner. So she sat back down and batted her eyes and patted the seat next to her again. And the boy was putty in her hands.

Unfortunately, Madeline hasn't had enough world experience to know that boys like that will totally burn you. Their puppy dog love lasted about ten minutes before the boy started getting abusive. He'd follow Madeline around, cutting her off when she went to climb on things, and pushing her away from the places she wanted to go. When he made my little girl cry, I gave that boy a talking to and sent him packing. Poor Madeline.

But, there is a happy ending to this story. A little sadder and a little wiser, Madeline returned to her step to contemplate life. And after a few minutes, she was joined by a new boy. A nice, clean cut, mature fellow this time. He sat down and started talking to her. She was a little bit wary, as might be expected considering her recent breakup. But she quickly warmed up, and they had quite the time chatting. While bad boy #1 sulked a few feet away by the slide because he wasn't the one admiring Madeline's princess shirt and holding her hand. He contemplated throwing some wood chips at the happy couple, but I was keeping an eye on the little punk and gave him a death glare until he dropped them and ran away. And Madeline was blissfully happy with her new boyfriend. (Until they had to sorrowfully part so that Madeline could go take care of her doll. Single motherhood can be so rough on your love life.)

The Warners are super duper exciting.

Yesterday was exciting. Let me list for the exciting things we did:

1. Maternity clothes shopping. Jessie did not find this as exciting as I did. But this is my blog. SO I say it was exciting.

2. We planted pansies. This is a big deal for us. Considering we kill plants and can't tell a marigold from a daisy. But we planted them. And now we will try to keep them alive.

3. We filled Madeline's sand box. And then tried to convince her to keep the sand inside the box. So that we don't have to fill it again tomorrow.

4. Jessie walked into a door. If you're debating whether to express concern or mock him, you should definitely mock. He's fine. He just walked right through our screen door and ripped it off its track. Because he didn't realize it was there. Now, whenever we are arguing about who has done more stupid things, I say: "You walked into a door. I win." Works like a charm.

5. Jessie played basketball while Madeline and I played at the park with neighbors. Proof that we are awesomely social people.

6. I left the park early because I got food poisoning or something and spent the rest of night vomiting and having violent stomach pain and wanting to die. I didn't say all the exciting things were good things. Don't worry, I'm better now. And a whole lot less inclined to complain about morning sickness. Good lesson learned.

This concludes the list of exciting things we did. I just had to let you know we do have exciting days once in a while. The end.

In which I cannot bring myself to make my blog cute.

This morning I realized why Jessie's alarm clock is cooler than mine. It doesn't beep randomly in the night. It doesn't push you off the bed in the morning. And it has a snooze button. If anyone knows of a place you can buy these upgrades for a toddler, let me know. Price is no object.

So I have this conundrum. I decided I need a pregnancy ticker. Because I need affirmation that we're getting somewhere. And apparently it's the cool thing to do. I've been looking around the internet for something suitable. And the problem is this: they are all too cute. Go ahead, laugh at me. But I just can't bring myself to stick an adorable ticker with flowers and happy hearts and stuff on the corner of my blog. I'm just not that kind of a person. Even in anticipation of a cute little ball of adorableness. And all of the tickers I've found that aren't excessively cute are either excessively boring, or gender specific. I know, there's just no pleasing me. Aren't you glad these are the problems that keep me awake at night? My life is difficult. (Actually, this doesn't keep me up at night. There are plenty of other reasons to be up all night, and this doesn't crack the top one hundred. Just to clarify. Lest you think I actually obsess about pregnancy tickers that much.)

So there's my latest insignificant internet dilemma. Until I finally just crack and find a sickeningly sweet ticker and stick it on here. Under duress and with much protest, of course. Until then I'll just have to make Jessie do a countdown dance for me every night to keep track. He'll love that. Too bad there's no way to stick that on a blog.

Another birthday. So many people were born and stuff.

Yesterday, Jessie got really old. Should I tell you how old? He is now in his LATE twenties. Practically dead. But I love old geezers, even though I'm still young and vivacious myself, so I'll keep him. We went out to dinner and bowling to celebrate, because we are awesomely creative and original people. Jessie beat me. Or maybe I let him beat me because it was his birthday. Or maybe my center of gravity was off because I'm pregnant. (I told you it's an excuse for everything.) Anyway, since I listed the reasons we love Madeline, I guess I'll tell you why we appreciate Jessie.

1. Jessie likes to clean. It relaxes him. So while I sit on my couch and try not puke, he organizes all the stuff I'm supposed to have done for the last week. For fun. or to procrastinate homework. I don't really care the reason. Don't probe too much into a good thing.

2. He makes an excellent horse. If you're two. He tends to complain if he has to give me rides around the living room. But Madeline loves it.

3. He lets me play with his new iphone. He even let me read a whole Jane Austen novel on it. Which means it was out of his control for hours on end. That means he loves me.

4. He kills bugs. I hate bug guts, and bug sounds, and basically any spider or bee that looks like they have it in for me. Once upon a time, a giant bumble bee was stalking me. I got a cup over it but was afraid to touch it because the bee got very angry and I feared for my life. Jessie didn't laugh at me when he came home eight hours later and there was a dead bee in a cup, weighted down with books, in the middle of our living room. He just disposed of it. Good husband material right there.

5. He makes good French toast. But he won't tell me his secret. So maybe he only gets a half point for that.

6. He only gets mad once in a while when I steal all of the blankets. And he listens to all my crazy dreams. (I had a good one the other night where I had a long conversation with Dwight Shrute trying to prove I was an alien. But that's a different story.)

7. He is tall. And dark. And handsome.

Yes, we like Jessie a lot around here. He's pretty useful and entertaining and stuff. Happy birthday Jessie, and don't worry. We'll take good care of you in your old age.

Cami explains the mysteries of the universe. Or just babbles and maybe there's something worth reading in here.

I have been an extremely bad blogger lately. But this time I have a really good excuse. The mother of all excuses. The get out of jail free card. Are you ready for this great excuse? Okay. Let's play multiple guess. Cami has been a slacker because

a) We've been on a month long trip to Guatemala building pay phones and the internet service was spotty.

b) I was pushed into a tree by a malevolent smoke monster, suffered a concussion, and awoke able to blog only in Korean.

c) Jessie recently developed an obsessive interest in censorship, and any post which does not refer to him as the Almighty Coolest Husband Ever is not allowed to publish.

d) All of the above. And we're pregnant.

Okay, that was sort of a trick question. To which the correct answer is just, we're pregnant! Well, I am anyway, and Jessie is pretty sure babies need fathers, so he's filling the position. I know you have many pressing questions, so allow me to elaborate. The due date is November 7th, or any time before then. Later than November 7th will be considered a breach of contract and said baby will be grounded. This makes me about 10 1/2 weeks. I have been sick, but not as sick as with Madeline, so pity me not. (Okay. Pity me. I like pity parties. Also cookies. But if you go with the cookies, hold off until I am on speaking terms with food again.) We are very excited, and reasonably sure that the baby is not an alien. My house is a disaster. No judging allowed. Um, I think that may be all you would want to know. Because really, there's not much more to announcing you're having a baby than saying, "Hey world, I'm having a baby!" So. Anyway. Now you know. Run wild with celebration and dance in the streets.

She had a birthday, shout hooray.

Will it surprise anyone that this post is late? Yeah, I didn't think so. On to the main event.

Yesterday, our wacky and wonderful toddler hit the big 2-0. Well, 2-point-0. Anyway, it was a big birthday milestone. Exceedingly exciting frivolity and mirth abounded. Since you never, ever, ever get to hear about Madeline on this blog, allow me to wax eloquent about why we love the little mischief maker.

1. We are so much more cultured since she has come into our lives. We know all the songs to Mary Poppins by heart. Jessie doubled his knowledge of primary songs. I have seen more episodes of Curious George than I ever did in college. Yes, I know my education was lacking.

2. We like being on a strict sleeping schedule. Madeline sure helps with the whole early to bed early to rise thing. And she keeps me alert by randomly screaming at various times throughout the night. If we ever have to sleep in a war zone, with our lives depending upon our keen senses, I will live and Jessie will die. This is comforting to know.

3. Madeline makes us appreciate gospel principles. Like temples. And prophets. We get to spend more time on lds.org looking at uplifting photos than ever before. And we get to appreciate the knowledge that there is a pseudo temple in our backyard everytime I open the back drapes. If you lived in front of a temple too, you would feel the joy.

4. We've doubled the number of shoes in our house. This has to be a good thing. And Jessie's share of the shoes went from about 5% TO 2.5%. Plus his aren't nearly as cute. Poor Jessie.

5. Madeline helps me make friends. I try to emulate her tactics to get to know people, but mostly they look at me funny if I admire their boots loudly in the grocery store.

6. We go to the park more often now. And trust me, I need it, as my ability on the monkey bars has sadly plummeted since second grade.

7. Madeline puts on shows for us. Always original and entertaining, and very much free. You have to bring your own popcorn, but it's not so bad once you get used to it.

8. She's just cute. I would upload proof, but blogspot hates me. Also I need to download pictures and I can't find my cord. Shocking, I know.

Anyway, we're just pleased as punch that she made it to her second birthday alive and happy and relatively well-adjusted. I think. Celebrations included kite-flying, McDonald's, cake, and a new high chair and pack and play for her baby doll that sent her into throes of ecstasy. (McDonald's and kite-flying were on Saturday. I know you thought we high-tailed it over there after church. Don't worry, we were too busy sitting around in our perfectly tailored Sunday clothes reading from the bible and listening to EFY music, like we do all day every Sunday.) Anyway. We do really love her and can't imagine what the heck we did before she came along. Happy birthday, Madeline, and may you stay two forever so that I don't have an emotional breakdown. Thank you.

Madeline is sleeping, so allow me to do Jessie's bragging for him.

Madeline is weird. For a many, many reasons. But sometimes she forgets it is day time and takes gigantic marathon naps. And then is really cranky when I wake her up. I almost never wake her up, but if I am afraid her nap is going to last six hours and I am going to be up all night with her, I will wake her up. Right now she has been asleep for three hours. I went in to see if she was stirring. I made some noises, snapped my fingers, and stared at her for a while. She just looked cute and slept. And I didn't have the heart to wake her up. I am actually a little afraid to. Because she will probably yell at me. Have you ever had that cranky, groggy, yucky feeling when you sleep too long? I'm pretty sure Madeline feels that way. So I am chicken. And instead of waking up my daughter, I am going to blog about Jessie.

The other day, I wrote a blog. I told Jessie about it. He said, "Did you blog about my iphone?". I told him I blogged about Madeline dying. He was kind of disappointed. "I think you should blog about my iphone." He's just a little excited. Or maybe a lot. His work bought him an iphone. Because they bought it and are paying for the ultra expensive plan, I let him keep it. Because I am nice like that. He brought it home two days ago. Now his favorite nighttime activity is playing Youtube videos on it for Madeline. (She thinks iphone is synonymous with Poppins.) He does this even if the laptop or television are bigger and closer. Yesterday we went to a wedding reception for my cousin. It was ridiculously easy to find the church. He had me look up directions on his iphone and we tracked ourselves with GPS the entire way. He now likes to spend his free time pretending to throw wads of paper into garbage cans at various locations. Fake locations. So that is Jessie's iphone. And Jessie. And the great thing is I never have to plan a date night again, because we'll just be bowling together on his iphone. And eating at virtual restaurants. And we won't even need a babysitter.