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.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
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.)
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.)
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, November 1, 2010
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.
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.
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