It's been one of those weeks. I probably should blog about it in minute detail. But that would be very responsible of me. I might become a legitimate blogger. That would be scary. Let's just say it involved way too much Easter candy, Madeline spraining her ankle, Madeline getting the 24 hour flu, not so much sleep, and a million other little things that just make you want to get to next week.
After a long day today of screaming, tantrums, diarrhea, and no naps, we took the kids out to dinner because cooking it seemed like an Olympic event. Madeline screamed the whole time. So we loaded everyone back in the car and drove home. And the girls fell asleep on the way. We pulled into our parking spot, and looked back at the sleeping children. Then we looked at each other. Then without a word, we both sighed and leaned back in our chairs. And played a game of Scrabble on Jessie's iphone. And laughed because this is what life has brought us to. And we were okay with being the weirdos hanging out in our parked car on a Friday night in front of our house. Not even making out. And thoroughly enjoying it.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
The History of Jessius Warnerius.
It's that time you've all been waiting for. Time to pay tribute to that studly hunk of a man we like to call Jessie Warner. I admit, I'm a bit late with this post. Technically, Jessie became an old geezer two days ago. But amidst life, partying it up, sleep deprivation, political campaigning, and space walking, we didn't get around to commemorating on the actual day. So happy 27.00547945th birthday, Mr. Warner! I know you're getting old and a little senile, so allow me to remind you of the most awesome parts of your 27 years.
Year 1- You were born. The doctors were a little surprised when you started instructing them on how to increase the efficiency of hospital advertising, but upon implementing your suggestions, they were pleasantly surprised at their spike in popularity.
Year 5- You started kindergarten and immediately began crushing upon all twenty girls in your class in turn, and incorporating swing dance moves into kissing tag. Alas, holding hands with multiple girls led to jealousy.
Year 11- You oh so humbly and oh so fantastically took top honors in your school spelling bee, and then immediately began planning your new business selling unique personalized dictionaries, individually autographed.
Year 16- You hit the dating and driving scene, and girls and pedestrians everywhere trembled in anticipation, though for slightly different reasons.
Year 18- You spread your wings and flew the nest, becoming financially, emotionally, legally, grammatically, and ecumenically independent. You moved to the great state of Idaho, afterwhich their potatoes were shipped with the label: "From the state where potatoes grow in Jessie's aura". Potato sales around the world skyrocketed.
Year 19- You embarked on your epic quest to the great country of Argentina, where the people eagerly awaited your arrival, in the hopes that they might have the honor of stealing your money, scriptures, shoes, hair gel, and/or memory.
Year 21- You began studies at that great institution of learning in the city of Provo. After only twenty major changes, you decided to major in Broadway Hypnotism, training under the finest experts.
Year 22- You stumbled into the best relationship of your life, and after minimal blackmail and maximum assurance that she could cook, you committed matrimony and joined the ranks of people who go to bed before 10 pm.
Year 23- You became a father, and promptly became a huge fan of princesses, horsey rides, and nap time.
Year 26- You finally completed your endless years of schooling, received a pretty diploma, and to celebrate, ran away to join the circus. When you washed out as a tightrope walking clown, you cried for three days and then got a real job.
Year 27- Yet to be determined. But we know whatever it is, it will likely be intensely interesting, wholly unexpected, and a whole barrel of fun.
Happy birthday, you mad fool you. Don't eat too much cake. Don't get any concussions. Be a good boy and listen to your wife. And always, always wear clean underwear, in case you need an appendectomy.
Year 1- You were born. The doctors were a little surprised when you started instructing them on how to increase the efficiency of hospital advertising, but upon implementing your suggestions, they were pleasantly surprised at their spike in popularity.
Year 5- You started kindergarten and immediately began crushing upon all twenty girls in your class in turn, and incorporating swing dance moves into kissing tag. Alas, holding hands with multiple girls led to jealousy.
Year 11- You oh so humbly and oh so fantastically took top honors in your school spelling bee, and then immediately began planning your new business selling unique personalized dictionaries, individually autographed.
Year 16- You hit the dating and driving scene, and girls and pedestrians everywhere trembled in anticipation, though for slightly different reasons.
Year 18- You spread your wings and flew the nest, becoming financially, emotionally, legally, grammatically, and ecumenically independent. You moved to the great state of Idaho, afterwhich their potatoes were shipped with the label: "From the state where potatoes grow in Jessie's aura". Potato sales around the world skyrocketed.
Year 19- You embarked on your epic quest to the great country of Argentina, where the people eagerly awaited your arrival, in the hopes that they might have the honor of stealing your money, scriptures, shoes, hair gel, and/or memory.
Year 21- You began studies at that great institution of learning in the city of Provo. After only twenty major changes, you decided to major in Broadway Hypnotism, training under the finest experts.
Year 22- You stumbled into the best relationship of your life, and after minimal blackmail and maximum assurance that she could cook, you committed matrimony and joined the ranks of people who go to bed before 10 pm.
Year 23- You became a father, and promptly became a huge fan of princesses, horsey rides, and nap time.
Year 26- You finally completed your endless years of schooling, received a pretty diploma, and to celebrate, ran away to join the circus. When you washed out as a tightrope walking clown, you cried for three days and then got a real job.
Year 27- Yet to be determined. But we know whatever it is, it will likely be intensely interesting, wholly unexpected, and a whole barrel of fun.
Happy birthday, you mad fool you. Don't eat too much cake. Don't get any concussions. Be a good boy and listen to your wife. And always, always wear clean underwear, in case you need an appendectomy.
Friday, April 15, 2011
That's just sick.
I thought we'd dodged the winter germs that had been going around. Until Madeline started coughing and wheezing and generally ratcheting up the cranky right after her birthday. And Kimberly started a runny nose. And then I realized I was dying. So it's been a fun week, and really my first experience trying to manage a sick household with two kiddos. Fun times all around. And here are the awesome things I learned:
-Even being sick doesn't make Kimberly excessively cranky. As long as she gets naps when she wants them, she will still be giggly and smiley and good-natured. Oddly enough, constipation on top of sickness doesn't turn her into a bawling mess either. We're going to try grounding her or taking away her driving privileges next, but I'm pretty sure she'll just roll right through those too. I don't know whose child she is, but I'm liking it.
-Madeline CAN be more dramatic. I really thought we had reached the upper limits. Also, if she's sick enough, she will even lay still for up to an hour a time. I thought sickness making children more mellow was a myth perpetuated by mothers of sick children who lie to others in a self-deluded attempt to handle things themselves. I was always convinced sickness was only manifested by kids getting crankier and rowdier. Good to know this is not always the case.
-You can lay on the couch for hours at a time, doing nothing but making sandwiches and changing diapers, and your kids will probably survive. Also your house may even be standing afterwards with only minor cosmetic damages. When Madeline was a baby I was convinced I would never be able to sleep while I knew any of my children were awake, for fear they would die or write a rap song whilst I was off duty. Now I know this is false. Because Madeline only writes songs about shopping, and rarely if ever actually dies, no matter how many times she may threaten to do so.
-Jessie will do the dishes and make dinner, and entertain bored children if these things are not done when he gets home. Without being begged or paid. And he won't even give you a guilt trip or try to cash in on it later. Basically, what I'm saying is that I might have several bouts of "sickness" over the next few months or years. Maybe a chronic, fleeting illness. That is totally real and definitely out of my control. And appears at about 5:00 every day. There's an illness like that, isn't there? If you know what it's called, definitely let me know. So I can tell Jessie.
Fortunately, it looks like we're all feeling better today, with only a few remnants of cracked voices, raw nostrils, and lingering coughs. So we'll probably live. All except Jessie. Who was the only one who didn't get appreciably sick. So I'm expecting him to break down and die any hour now. Probably just in time for his birthday. We always like to get him big, dramatic presents like that.
-Even being sick doesn't make Kimberly excessively cranky. As long as she gets naps when she wants them, she will still be giggly and smiley and good-natured. Oddly enough, constipation on top of sickness doesn't turn her into a bawling mess either. We're going to try grounding her or taking away her driving privileges next, but I'm pretty sure she'll just roll right through those too. I don't know whose child she is, but I'm liking it.
-Madeline CAN be more dramatic. I really thought we had reached the upper limits. Also, if she's sick enough, she will even lay still for up to an hour a time. I thought sickness making children more mellow was a myth perpetuated by mothers of sick children who lie to others in a self-deluded attempt to handle things themselves. I was always convinced sickness was only manifested by kids getting crankier and rowdier. Good to know this is not always the case.
-You can lay on the couch for hours at a time, doing nothing but making sandwiches and changing diapers, and your kids will probably survive. Also your house may even be standing afterwards with only minor cosmetic damages. When Madeline was a baby I was convinced I would never be able to sleep while I knew any of my children were awake, for fear they would die or write a rap song whilst I was off duty. Now I know this is false. Because Madeline only writes songs about shopping, and rarely if ever actually dies, no matter how many times she may threaten to do so.
-Jessie will do the dishes and make dinner, and entertain bored children if these things are not done when he gets home. Without being begged or paid. And he won't even give you a guilt trip or try to cash in on it later. Basically, what I'm saying is that I might have several bouts of "sickness" over the next few months or years. Maybe a chronic, fleeting illness. That is totally real and definitely out of my control. And appears at about 5:00 every day. There's an illness like that, isn't there? If you know what it's called, definitely let me know. So I can tell Jessie.
Fortunately, it looks like we're all feeling better today, with only a few remnants of cracked voices, raw nostrils, and lingering coughs. So we'll probably live. All except Jessie. Who was the only one who didn't get appreciably sick. So I'm expecting him to break down and die any hour now. Probably just in time for his birthday. We always like to get him big, dramatic presents like that.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
To the trial and blessing of my life.
Tomorrow, I gain a three year old. Or, to paraphrase a popular saying: I'm not gaining a three year old, I'm losing a two year old. We can only hope the three year old model will come with a bit more maturity and a bit less drama. I'm betting not. But despite the fact that she regularly has us gnashing our teeth and scoping out behavioral schools (for children, not dogs. Unless they'll take her at the dog schools. She'd have a great time chasing the dogs), we've become rather attached to our little Madeline and her antics. She regularly keeps us in stitches. In honor of her day of birth, here's a tribute to our little trouble maker. With pictures! Oh, the excitement!
Once upon a time there was a young, stunningly good-looking couple who were eagerly anticipating their first delightful progeny. And of course had no idea what they were getting into.
After a lot of unimportant laboring and stuff, there was born to them this pretty little specimen of babyhood. She was sweet. Innocent. Adorable. Totally in charge of their lives. Also naked quite often, but when you're counting your age in days or weeks, no one minds much.
She grew in cuteness and fatness and loudness. Especially in loudness. The young couple wasn't getting much sleep, or silence, but they forgave her because she was very skilled in the art of making friends and brainwashing. She lived the high life. New outfits ten times a day, all the food she wanted as long as it was milk, and her very own personal photographer.
Over time she developed that terrible power that parents fear and dread: mobility. And became even cuter, if that was possible. And got in heaps more trouble. But her parents continued to bail her out of jail time after time, because they loved the little stinker.
Then, the girl began to walk and talk and use her powers of persuasion and seduction to swindle her parents out of a lot of money and presents. And "uh oh" became the word of the day. But her happy smile and ability to show off in all environments kept her popular with her fans and movie critics.
Realizing she could no longer glide by on her looks and engaging personality, Madeline began to develop her other talents, becoming accomplished in sports, music, and awesome hair styles.
Understanding that knowledge was the key to a happy future, she also undertook to improve her mind, save her soul, and plan for her eventual coup of world governments.
She also worked on her culinary skills, although she refused to make any recipes that did not include goldfish, chocolate, or salad. Her fame as a homemaker and domestic diva soon surpassed even that of her super-star mother, no mean feat.
Despite her meteoric rise to fame, wealth and greatness, she still took time to enjoy family, the outdoors, and the simple things in life. She was never demanding or ridiculously hard to please. Unless it happened to be any day of the week except Thursday. And very often on Thursdays as well. Because there is nothing special about Thursday.
After three years of tireless effort and a little bit of luck, her many notable accomplishments included, but were not limited to: Dressing herself with style, sisterhood, memorization of the Rapunzel CD, partial toilet training, horse-back-daddy riding prowess, knowledge of the ABC's, numbers 1-10, and an odd smattering of colors, her own reality television show airing exclusively at Warner Studios, and a loving heart and precocious spirit.
The happy parents agreed that while the first three years had only narrowly been survived, they were happy years that could never be traded. Madeline had endeared herself to all, accomplished everything that could be reasonably expected of an independent and stubborn toddler, and avoided all sticky ends with her charm and exasperating cuteness. The moral of the story: We love Madeline. In all her mischievous glory. Happy birthday, punk. Mommy loves you.
Once upon a time there was a young, stunningly good-looking couple who were eagerly anticipating their first delightful progeny. And of course had no idea what they were getting into.
After a lot of unimportant laboring and stuff, there was born to them this pretty little specimen of babyhood. She was sweet. Innocent. Adorable. Totally in charge of their lives. Also naked quite often, but when you're counting your age in days or weeks, no one minds much.
She grew in cuteness and fatness and loudness. Especially in loudness. The young couple wasn't getting much sleep, or silence, but they forgave her because she was very skilled in the art of making friends and brainwashing. She lived the high life. New outfits ten times a day, all the food she wanted as long as it was milk, and her very own personal photographer.
Over time she developed that terrible power that parents fear and dread: mobility. And became even cuter, if that was possible. And got in heaps more trouble. But her parents continued to bail her out of jail time after time, because they loved the little stinker.
Then, the girl began to walk and talk and use her powers of persuasion and seduction to swindle her parents out of a lot of money and presents. And "uh oh" became the word of the day. But her happy smile and ability to show off in all environments kept her popular with her fans and movie critics.
Realizing she could no longer glide by on her looks and engaging personality, Madeline began to develop her other talents, becoming accomplished in sports, music, and awesome hair styles.
Understanding that knowledge was the key to a happy future, she also undertook to improve her mind, save her soul, and plan for her eventual coup of world governments.
She also worked on her culinary skills, although she refused to make any recipes that did not include goldfish, chocolate, or salad. Her fame as a homemaker and domestic diva soon surpassed even that of her super-star mother, no mean feat.
Despite her meteoric rise to fame, wealth and greatness, she still took time to enjoy family, the outdoors, and the simple things in life. She was never demanding or ridiculously hard to please. Unless it happened to be any day of the week except Thursday. And very often on Thursdays as well. Because there is nothing special about Thursday.
After three years of tireless effort and a little bit of luck, her many notable accomplishments included, but were not limited to: Dressing herself with style, sisterhood, memorization of the Rapunzel CD, partial toilet training, horse-back-daddy riding prowess, knowledge of the ABC's, numbers 1-10, and an odd smattering of colors, her own reality television show airing exclusively at Warner Studios, and a loving heart and precocious spirit.
The happy parents agreed that while the first three years had only narrowly been survived, they were happy years that could never be traded. Madeline had endeared herself to all, accomplished everything that could be reasonably expected of an independent and stubborn toddler, and avoided all sticky ends with her charm and exasperating cuteness. The moral of the story: We love Madeline. In all her mischievous glory. Happy birthday, punk. Mommy loves you.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Our Semi-Annual Visual Spree.
So I decided it was time for some pictures. For those fans out there who wonder why I blabber so much instead of shutting up and just putting up baby pictures, which are, I admit, infinitely more uplifting and awe inducing than my eloquent and ever stimulating literature. So I will post some random photos, regale you with way too much information, and happiness will abound in our kingdom. I warn you, they are in no particular order, as I am super super lazy. But I tried to put some cuteness first for those of you who just don't want to suffer through all the commentary. Heck, if you just want the viewing pleasure and are actually someone I know and not a creepy stalker person, head on over to Facebook for all this and More! Limited Time Only!
Some baby cuteness. I really am regretting not getting every last thing we own in pink now that we have two girls. So much for my super smart bi-gender planning and preparedness. Pink strollers and car seats really are more fun than any other color.
Some Easter dress action. My mom found these matching ones and I was going to actually wait until Easter to have the girls wear them, but I have no patience. We had a baptism so they broke out the goods early and we do not apologize for our Easter Dress Heresy. Because they looked cute, and only relatives saw them, not anybody in the ward, so it'll still be a surprise, right? Except that I'm publishing pictures for the world to see. Because I like to sabotage myself like that.
The baby sits! And it is so exciting! Every time we sit her down and she stays up there is much exclaiming and to-do. Even though she's done it about a hundred times. We are all about the enthusiasm and emotional support over here. Don't get me started on how awesome it is to cheer for every toilet success for the past four days as if she won the NCAA tournament. (Madeline, not Kimberly. I only wish Kimberly was so progressive.) So forgive us if we need to come over and be a little cranky at your house sometimes. All this positive energy is really wearing. My cheeks hurt from smiling. (Name that movie!)
So remember how I said we were getting organized? This is our first attempt. It holds cans. The cans roll. It is awesome. I feel it is noteworthy that a useful craft got completed around here. Not that I did it. Jessie put together the whole thing. I just busted out the spray paint to feel like a contributor. Now we only need to make about twenty more to make our pantry pretty.
Madeline is into picking her own clothes these days. I had to share her unique style. Don't worry, I don't let her leave the house like this. Usually. Okay, sometimes. I just get past caring when I'm wiped out from the Happy Potting Time Cheering Squad. I have no energy left over to teach color coordination. One step at a time.
More Easter cuteness. Those faces pretty much sum up our life. Either over the top exuberance, or grumpy drama. Usually the faces are reversed though. I don't blame Kimberly for getting in the occasional grumpy face when she's being strangled though. At least Madeline's world is not ending, as it is ninety percent of the time.
Here's a freebie to those of you who stuck around. This one didn't make it onto Facebook, for obvious reasons. This is what mornings look like around here. I didn't think a photo could adequately capture my feelings, but this one comes pretty close. Oh, the humanity.
That's a wrap, folks. We can only muster up so many photo opportunities around here before we start feeling a little too on top of things. We'll probably avoid taking pictures for a month to avoid strain. Thanks for being a part of public debut. We do it all for you.
Some baby cuteness. I really am regretting not getting every last thing we own in pink now that we have two girls. So much for my super smart bi-gender planning and preparedness. Pink strollers and car seats really are more fun than any other color.
Some Easter dress action. My mom found these matching ones and I was going to actually wait until Easter to have the girls wear them, but I have no patience. We had a baptism so they broke out the goods early and we do not apologize for our Easter Dress Heresy. Because they looked cute, and only relatives saw them, not anybody in the ward, so it'll still be a surprise, right? Except that I'm publishing pictures for the world to see. Because I like to sabotage myself like that.
The baby sits! And it is so exciting! Every time we sit her down and she stays up there is much exclaiming and to-do. Even though she's done it about a hundred times. We are all about the enthusiasm and emotional support over here. Don't get me started on how awesome it is to cheer for every toilet success for the past four days as if she won the NCAA tournament. (Madeline, not Kimberly. I only wish Kimberly was so progressive.) So forgive us if we need to come over and be a little cranky at your house sometimes. All this positive energy is really wearing. My cheeks hurt from smiling. (Name that movie!)
So remember how I said we were getting organized? This is our first attempt. It holds cans. The cans roll. It is awesome. I feel it is noteworthy that a useful craft got completed around here. Not that I did it. Jessie put together the whole thing. I just busted out the spray paint to feel like a contributor. Now we only need to make about twenty more to make our pantry pretty.
Madeline is into picking her own clothes these days. I had to share her unique style. Don't worry, I don't let her leave the house like this. Usually. Okay, sometimes. I just get past caring when I'm wiped out from the Happy Potting Time Cheering Squad. I have no energy left over to teach color coordination. One step at a time.
More Easter cuteness. Those faces pretty much sum up our life. Either over the top exuberance, or grumpy drama. Usually the faces are reversed though. I don't blame Kimberly for getting in the occasional grumpy face when she's being strangled though. At least Madeline's world is not ending, as it is ninety percent of the time.
Here's a freebie to those of you who stuck around. This one didn't make it onto Facebook, for obvious reasons. This is what mornings look like around here. I didn't think a photo could adequately capture my feelings, but this one comes pretty close. Oh, the humanity.That's a wrap, folks. We can only muster up so many photo opportunities around here before we start feeling a little too on top of things. We'll probably avoid taking pictures for a month to avoid strain. Thanks for being a part of public debut. We do it all for you.
Monday, April 4, 2011
I'm a big kid now...and Madeline's growing up too
We've entered another delightful phase of potty training. And of course I have to blog about it, because this is my revenge for the torment she put me through along the way. In twenty years, when Madeline is appalled at how much personal information about her bodily functions I published for the world to see, I'll just smile and know that she got hers. On the bright side, Madeline has pretty much potty trained herself in the past three days. She knows when to go, she goes in without being reminded, she does everything herself, and she's as proud as a peacock. Incidentally, we didn't try any new tactics on her. She just decided it was time. Which drives me nuts, but I'm not going to complain too loudly since she's doing it. My kid is using the bathroom for its intended purpose! The excitement level around here is somewhere between giddiness and awe. If she keeps it up for a few more days we'll probably be breaking out the caviar and sparkling apple cider.
However, it's not all rainbows. We now have several new problems: in our enthusiasm to get her excited about the process, we slowly upped the ante from stickers to candy to wrapped presents for successful potty outings. Now that she has more control over the process, she manipulates the system to produce a success about twenty times a day. And bankrupting our present factory. So now we have to figure out how to ratchet down the magnitude of the rewards without inducing a potty strike. Because Madeline would totally go back to peeing her pants every single time on purpose just to teach me a lesson. She already has a fit if she gets the wrong present or if we don't accept without hesitation her declaration that she has successfully gone for the fifth time in twenty minutes. (On a side note, we're having a great debate about the fine line between letting her know we trust her and still facing the reality that a two year old's definition of "going potty" might be different than ours. Oh, the fun philosophical debates! Who knew potty training was so full of deep questions?) We also have to figure out how to get her from Pull-ups into regular underwear, because she has hysterics if we suggest the idea. Basically, we're just not going to mess with the situation for at least a week, because we're much too relieved that she's finally made some progress and might be totally potty-trained by kindergarten. Maybe. I won't hold my breath.
However, it's not all rainbows. We now have several new problems: in our enthusiasm to get her excited about the process, we slowly upped the ante from stickers to candy to wrapped presents for successful potty outings. Now that she has more control over the process, she manipulates the system to produce a success about twenty times a day. And bankrupting our present factory. So now we have to figure out how to ratchet down the magnitude of the rewards without inducing a potty strike. Because Madeline would totally go back to peeing her pants every single time on purpose just to teach me a lesson. She already has a fit if she gets the wrong present or if we don't accept without hesitation her declaration that she has successfully gone for the fifth time in twenty minutes. (On a side note, we're having a great debate about the fine line between letting her know we trust her and still facing the reality that a two year old's definition of "going potty" might be different than ours. Oh, the fun philosophical debates! Who knew potty training was so full of deep questions?) We also have to figure out how to get her from Pull-ups into regular underwear, because she has hysterics if we suggest the idea. Basically, we're just not going to mess with the situation for at least a week, because we're much too relieved that she's finally made some progress and might be totally potty-trained by kindergarten. Maybe. I won't hold my breath.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Only Fools Rush In
Ah, APril Fool's Day. We sort of have a love/hate relationship of sorts. I adore the idea of April Fool's. I would love to get a reputation as the best prankster ever. But somehow the day rolls around and I just can't bring myself to play any good jokes. I'm either afraid people won't take the joke well, or can't think of anything good, or don't want to put the effort into a really masterful plan. So as much as I'd love to tell you I'm out to get you, you're probably pretty safe from me. Unless you care to leave your facebook password for me, in which case I'll try to cook up a little something just for you.
Jessie is a big fan of pranks. Apparently when he lived up at BYU Idaho, he and his roommates were notoriously cruel to their friends of the female persuasion. Once they left a garbage can full of milk and cereal leaning against their door. I told him he ought to have been locked up. He also thinks taking all the labels off of their food cans is hilarious. I think it's a waste of food. Apparently this is why I never pull off any great April Fool's jokes. When I was little, my sister and I put all our stuffed animals in trash bags and stuffed them in the shower so my dad couldn't get ready in the morning. We thought that was pretty clever. But then my dad decided to pull a joke of his own and made us believe he was livid about it and that we were going to be grounded for about a year. I blame him for my inability to pull a good joke. It was traumatizing. Which is why I can't bring myself to play any jokes on Madeline either, because I don't want to screw up the holiday for her.
On a related note, I was very disappointed when I checked facebook this morning to see that none of my friends were unexpectedly pregnant, moving, or dead. Things have gotten better, but really people! Let's have some drama! Only about 1/4 of you are having some sort of relationship or disaster related crisis, and I submit that number is much too low. This is why technology was invented. Come on.
And speaking of technology, I leave you with this little nugget of technological wonder. Just know that when my phone contract expires, I'm totally getting me one of these:
http://www.pomegranatephone.com/
Happy April Fool's everybody! Enjoy your merriment! I'll try to get into the swing of things. And scare the living daylights out of someone. But only because I care.
Jessie is a big fan of pranks. Apparently when he lived up at BYU Idaho, he and his roommates were notoriously cruel to their friends of the female persuasion. Once they left a garbage can full of milk and cereal leaning against their door. I told him he ought to have been locked up. He also thinks taking all the labels off of their food cans is hilarious. I think it's a waste of food. Apparently this is why I never pull off any great April Fool's jokes. When I was little, my sister and I put all our stuffed animals in trash bags and stuffed them in the shower so my dad couldn't get ready in the morning. We thought that was pretty clever. But then my dad decided to pull a joke of his own and made us believe he was livid about it and that we were going to be grounded for about a year. I blame him for my inability to pull a good joke. It was traumatizing. Which is why I can't bring myself to play any jokes on Madeline either, because I don't want to screw up the holiday for her.
On a related note, I was very disappointed when I checked facebook this morning to see that none of my friends were unexpectedly pregnant, moving, or dead. Things have gotten better, but really people! Let's have some drama! Only about 1/4 of you are having some sort of relationship or disaster related crisis, and I submit that number is much too low. This is why technology was invented. Come on.
And speaking of technology, I leave you with this little nugget of technological wonder. Just know that when my phone contract expires, I'm totally getting me one of these:
http://www.pomegranatephone.com/
Happy April Fool's everybody! Enjoy your merriment! I'll try to get into the swing of things. And scare the living daylights out of someone. But only because I care.
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