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.)