Madie Convos

It's been a bit of a stressful day--or month, really, but I'm trying to take it one day at a time, so I'll just retract that part (only not really, because I feel like wallowing just a bit, and I want you all to share in the misery that is sleep deprivation). But posting things to my new Pinterest board, "Stupid Stuff on a Stick" is helping me feel better.

These Madie convos will also help me feel better--and you too!

The other night, as we're getting ready to take Madie up to bed.
Mike: "Madie, do you want one of us to take you up or do you want to go by yourself?"

Madie: "One of you take me up."

Me: "Who should take you up? Me or Dad?" I lean back and "inconspicuously" point to Mike while mouthing, 'DAAAD. DAAAD.'

Madie: "What?" I continue mouthing and pointing. "What? What'd you say, Mum?" More mouthing, slightly whispering. Madie gets a look on her face that clearly says, 'You're insane.' "What, Mum? I can't hear you." Madie continues playing with her dolly on the floor. "Mum, will you take me to bed?"

~~~~~~~~~
Today I found out that one of Madie's preschool teachers was in a minor car accident the other day. She's okay, but won't be in for a few days so she can recover--she complains of some soreness (I assume from whiplash). On the way home, I mentioned this to Madie.

Me: "Hey Madie, did you know Ms. Meagan was hurt in an accident?"

Madie: "Oh. Did the floor hurt her?"

Me: "You mean did she fall? No. She was hurt by her car."

Madie: "Is she squashed?" (We've been going over the importance of staying out of the way of cars, hence the term 'squashed'.)

Me: "No, no, she's okay, she's just a little hurt. But I was thinking maybe we could think of things to do to make her feel better. Do you have any suggestions?"

Madie (after a moment): "We could bless her. And then all her owies would get better."

*Cue melting of Mumma's heart.* We have been praying for Aunt Kaitlyn and Aunt Holly lately and it was sweet that Madie realized that the power of prayer can have an effect on the wellbeing of others.

Well, as usual, I was right. I do feel better.

Leche, Crazy Girl

I just have to write some of these down so we'll have them for future reference.

So far today I have heard from the mouth of my eldest:

"Mum! Look!"
"What?" I look.
She gathers the pages of a book in one hand and proceeds to flip through them only using that hand.
I look astonished. "WOAH! That's cool!"
"Yeah! I'm like Gaston!"

Later...

"Mooooom!" She comes running round the corner of the kitchen. 

"What?"

"Mom! I need a bandaid!"

With concern, "Why? What happened?"

"Because I got a owie!"

"Let me see." I look at her finger. "I don't see anything."

"No I do!" She goes to the wall and knocks her knuckle against it. "See?"

"Oh, right." I get her a bandaid. 

"I need two." 

"But you only have one owie."

She starts to take off to the kitchen, "Wait here, I gotta go get another owie."

Ai adai! This girl has me thinking in Micronesian, that's how crazy she is!

Tread On, Worn Down, Stressed Out, and Thrilled

Let me tell you a little about my day. I'll try to keep it in a nutshell, but I make no promises--especially since it starts last night...it's been a long one.

I found out last night some sad news. I won't go into detail since the rest of this post would seem odd, if not inappropriate. Just know that although sad, it was also expected and in many ways (to me at least) relieving. With this news though--however lacking in shock I may be--came a lack of sleep. I fell asleep two hours later than usual. This morning, I was opening my door at 6:45 to greet the baby boy I've been watching all week. Normally he pouts for a bit after being dropped off, but this morning I had to literally pry him off his mother. 

"Sorry, he woke up really grumpy this morning," she said. 

"Oh, not to worry! Come, little guy, let's be happy!" I said cheerily as I pulled him screaming from his mum. 

He cried for a half hour. Madie--who had been happy and perky when I put her to bed 12 hours earlier--also awoke slightly disgruntled. But who can blame her--she was woken by a wailing 11-month old. 

The real fun began when another friend knocked on the door at 8:40. 

"Madie! Your friends are here!" I chirped. Addison and Madie knew each other well and I was sure this would entertain her. Everything was great for the first hour: Madie, Addison, and Emma (Addie's older sister) watched some Winnie the Pooh while I picked up, showered, etc. and Kaleb napped. But sometime right before we hit the home stretch before their mum showed up it all fell apart. Kaleb woke up still not happy; Addie kept experimenting with Kaleb's face ("What will he do when I poke him in the eye? What will he do when I pinch his cheeks?"); Emma kept informing me of Addie's misdeeds even as I witnessed them; and Madie kept screaming at everyone to STOP TOUCHING HER THINGS! (Like the animal crackers Addison and Emma brought.)

My friend probably thought Armageddon had started in the small upstairs apartment in which I live. An hour later, with both her daughters gone, Madie and Kaleb fed and down for their afternoon naps, I thought I would enjoy a relatively quiet afternoon. But Kaleb and Madie woke very much in the same moods as before. Kaleb cried over any reason he could find, and Madie gave him plenty of reasons to cry. But a few hours later, as Kaleb's mum came to pick him up, I again had the feeling I would be enjoying a nice evening, with my husband home and a daughter who no longer had anyone to be stingy to. Again, I was proven wrong. 

I thought I'd go nuts if I had to listen to Madie scream or cry one more time while I was making dinner and Mike was in the bedroom listening to his lecture, so she was shut in her room. Shut. I don't usually close the door when I put her in her room since she can't open it up again when she's calmed down. But today I felt it would be safer for everyone if her door was closed.

At the end of dinner--and my rope--my neighbors knocked on the door.

"Here we are!" 

"Yes! Here you are! Come here, Vahan," I said as I reached out for their 11-month-old son. I had forgotten I'd agreed to watch him for an hour. Normally he's a very relaxed kid, though, and I was ready for a happy baby. They closed the door and he started crying. Of course.

And of course, Madie was as stingy with him as with everyone else. In a fit of rage over not being allowed to steal Vahan's own toy from him, she threw a block across the room, so I foot-balled her and flossed and brushed her teeth. When I set her down to undress her she screamed, "Poo-poo!" So I stripped her and sat her on her toilet seat and in the middle of my heated lecture to her on sharing (what can I say? I'm my father's daughter.) I heard it. I heard it!

An unmistakable and continuous tinkling.

It was like a church bell at noon.

I stopped mid-sentence and she stopped mid-cry. I smiled big while she gave me a startled stare. 

"Oh! Madie! Oh, Madie! Give me five!" She grinned and gave me five. Then five again. "Do you want THREE POTTY CANDIES!" (Yes. I've been bribing her for a week now, and to no avail.) 

"YESH!" she shouted.

With the potty candies distributed I lifted her up and wiped her clean. Oh, finally! FINALLY! This is it folks! That first one has got to be the hardest one, I'm sure of it. And I know Madie--now that she's done it once, she'll do it again and again. Oh happy day! All my trials have been redeemed! Who knew I just needed to get her so upset she would stop thinking about it?! EUREKA! Glorious day! And now, it will be recorded forever in the annals of Watkins Family History. Let the headlines read: 

"On September 21, Lady Madeleine Pees!"

Names Adjusted

We're watching another family this week while the parents are helping out at a girls' camp. They have four kids: Lucy is 11, Cole is 9, Aly is 5, and Jenny is 4. We've been watching them since Monday and Madie has been pretty clingy since Tuesday. I figured it was mostly due to suddenly having to share mum with four other kids. I think I was wrong.

This morning before Aly and Jenny were up, Lucy, Cole, Madie and I were all eating breakfast. Madie was goofing around with Lucy like they were best friends, and Cole was cracking up from the counter. The older kids finished eating and went off to their respective activities. Madie finished and I got her down. She was toddling around the kitchen while I read.

Enter Aly. Before she left, Aly's mom told me that Aly loved little kids but that love was often a little too much for them. And Jenny does whatever her sister does; the combination is intense. She wasn't lying.

I didn't want to do it, but I did. After the first half-hour I told the girls the reason Madie's breath speeds up and she searches for the nearest exit whenever they enter a room she's in is because of situations similar to what I found when I came in from outside this morning: Madie pinned into a corner with two little blondies hovering over her either threatening to hug her or demanding she tickle their armpits. 

The 3 Ms and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Today has been...well, frankly I've sat here for quite some time thinking of how to describe it and nothing seems to be appropriate for a family blog.

Madie was cute enough when she first woke up but decided about an hour into the morning to make it a miserable one. She threw fits for two hours. Two. Hours. When we decided to head to the DMV she threw such a massive fit I told Mike I would just stay home (I was going to go to the mall, Mike was going to the DMV). As soon as I said it I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach: the last thing I wanted was to stay in an apartment that needed cleaning with a Mad Madie. After cleaning up a bit, I locked myself in the coat closet until Madie toddled off in a puzzled, silent search for me.

Hey, don't knock it. It works.

Shortly after letting myself out, Mike knocked on the door and said he left something. We were all noticeably more controlled--Mike had let off steam in the car, apparently--and he asked if we should try again. Madie went into her car seat without a hitch and we were all lulled into false and fragile security.

I left Mike at the DMV in Tracy and drove a couple minutes down the road to Marshall's. Let me tell you some things about myself you may have guessed but might not already know:

1. I don't like Tracy. It's dirty, miserable little town with almost no self-sustenance. It's a parasite on the back-end of the Bay and would be much better if it were just torn down and allowed to be wild.

2. I don't particularly like Marshall's. I've been in a couple and just never found anything I really liked, but I'm usually willing to give it a shot if it's been a while. I haven't been in this one, and I haven't been in any for a number of years.

3. I hate DMVs.

While I was shopping at Marshall's, I was delighted to find a white tanktop I could use as an undershirt--mine is becoming bizarrely thin at the top and I can't figure out why--I also found a couple of other items that caught my fancy, but before I could start making my way to the dressing room, Madie decided she wanted to throw another tantrum. She threw herself on the dirty floor and cried angrily at me for not letting her push the cart into the clothes racks. I stood there and looked at dressed. We finally agreed on her being carried, since pushing the cart wasn't an option, nor was sitting in it.

I told the little Filipina woman at the dressing rooms how many items I had and she showed me to a curtained room. When I stood Madie on the ground she flipped out. She cried the whole time I was trying things on--I ended up only trying two, it was that much of an ordeal--and at one point when she calmed down to take a breath I hear through the curtain the voice of the Filipina woman:

"You know why? You know why?" I finally realized she's trying to talk to me. I didn't answer.
"It's because you make her too accustomed to being carried at home." I thought of all sorts of quips, but decided it was best to pretend I hadn't heard anything. Madie started crying again and I started changing back into my clothes. Again, as I was preparing to get out of the stall she tisked me and suggested I feed the poor baby. On my way out, she took my clothes and caught me by the arm--this lady was determined--"You shouldn't carry her at home, you know?"

I thanked her for her profound parental wisdom and skipped happily away, realizing the answer to my tot's tantrums.

On the way home Mike announced the car couldn't be registered in California for less than two thousand dollars until we proved some tax thing or other--you can add "I hate taxes" to the list.

Now there's a fly circling my head. In my house. I hate those things.

But I love cooking and trying new things, and I love whoopie pies, so off I go to experiment. Let this be National Whoopie Pie Day. Please? For me?

Wonderful, Wonderful, Wonderful, WONderful Day!

With today's weather, I think it's safe to say that fall is officially coming in. Yes, it may bounce back and forth for a few weeks, but summer is dying, dying...and soon to be dead. I give it two weeks to live.

It was almost perfect today: cool but not cold; breezy, but not blowing dirt in my face. The only downside was the sky didn't have that completely clear fall look where the late afternoon sun almost makes it seem like you can pick out each particle in the air individually. Of course, considering it hasn't rained for three months, the overcast and the little drops I felt were welcomed. I've enjoyed NorCal, but I miss summer rainstorms. (Arizonians, don't use your occasional monsoons to try to bring us down. It's not going to work.)

Thus I change the blog background! Yes, it is time. Time for thinking of birthdays and holidays and parties.

On a completely different topic, guess what I just figured out and confirmed today! A lady who works at the library--one of the nice ones--is an inactive member of our ward! I noticed the name signed at the end of my visiting teaching check-up was Sandy (I won't give the last name) and that her email mentioned libraries. I thought, "Hmmm...I know a Sandy who works at the library. But I don't know of any woman in our ward with this name." Tonight at a Relief Society service project, a woman asked me if I had done my visiting teaching. I told her yes and asked her if she knew this woman. She told me they were neighbors but that she's been inactive since they met thirty years ago. (She suggested that the husband might have been offended at something.)

Man, dedicated to her calling. That is incredible! Inactive for thirty years and still keeps her lists updated enough to check up on whether or not I did my visiting teaching! Both I and the family of women I teach are brand new this summer!

Sven Next Door

One thing that I will miss about apartment life (if I ever get out of it, that is) is the never-ending sources of entertainment at my disposal. The complex we live in now is probably the best in this regards and any other. In others, we've had the pleasure of listening to our neighbors upstairs and down (running, jumping, a baby in a child-less relationship often heard crying, among other noises probably not appropriate for a family blog).

But in this complex, we have windows. Windows that look into other windows.

As long as I've lived in apartments I've felt that the least I deserve in return are interesting neighbors. You know, like in Rear Window. Okay--maybe not the guy who kills his wife or the woman who commits suicide. But somewhere along the lines of the piano player and the ballerina. So far all I've had are noisy people who live above me.

But after 5 years of apartment life, I have finally been rewarded with Sven.

Sven is the name Mike assigned to the Scandinavian man who lives in the apartment directly across the lawn from us and whose two biggest windows face our own. We were first introduced in the middle of a story I was telling the sister missionaries at dinner in our living room--

"And then...Oh my gosh! That man is in nothing but a speedo! Well, I think it's a speedo..." The sisters burst into laughter. He simply threw his curtains aside and stood there at the window in almost all his glory.

Since then we have had the pleasure of seeing middle-aged, overweight Sven shirtless on a number of occasions--and I'm counting my blessings.

Do You Still Love Me??? :)

I was going to leave you

the last lemon square,

but it looked so lonely

without the others.

I couldn't bare to watch

its powdered yellow face

in the corner of the pan.

So I ate it

in one bite.

A big head-nod to anyone who can name the poem this was loosely modeled after.

Eating My Words and Wanting More

As all young mothers, I have a list of things I said I would never do, and now, even just 9 months into it, I find myself slowly slipping. (Well, I guess not too slowly, since I just said I'm only 9 months into it.)

(Of course, there are still things I will never do because I find them to be shady, dishonest, and harmful to children. But that's a side note.)

Anyway, back to the story at hand. I had decided shortly before Madie was born that I was not going to allow myself to be made foolish--even when no one was looking--by my baby. I would not, for example, army crawl out of her bedroom if I heard her stirring while I was in there.

Of course, this I have not done. Army crawling is for those who really have a scrap of self-respect left. Instead of army crawling when I heard her sigh in her sleep and turn a little, I dropped to the floor like a cockroach hit out of the air. I lay as still as could be, hardly daring to breathe, and definitely not daring to glance over Madie's ultra-low, make-shift crib to see if there was any legitimacy to my concern. I craned my neck to get a look at the door. Ajar, yes, but only about 8 inches. I wriggled my way towards it, head-first, on my back. I turned onto my side so I could fit through the width of the door. I put my arms through first, and slowly worked my way through. When I got to the hallway, I crab-walked to the bathroom, so I would be out of her sight if she was looking (if she was even awake) through the doorway. I stood and came face-to-face with the mirror.

If my reflection were like Mary Poppins', she would have smiled condescendingly. As it was, I rolled my eyes at myself and went into the living room to take a nap.

Creeeeeeeepppppppyyyyyyyyy!

So THIS is probably the creepiest thing you'll see this year, and we just got started!

I mean, it's not that I don't feel a little pang of disappointment when people ask how old my son is, even though it's overwhelmed by a much larger pang of pity for the stupidity of the observer for not being able to recognize the delicate, feminine bone structure and Jersey-cow eyes and lashes--she is clearly a girl! Either way, I would NEVER put one of these creepy baby wigs.

I can be pretty vain. I realize that. I try not to be, but there are certain things I'm vain about. I just figure as long as I don't waste away in front of the mirror and as long as I don't project my vanity onto others (*ahem* like my child!) then I'm okay. I also figure, the baby doesn't care! She's clueless! It's not like an old friend of mine who was tall and very slender and kept her hair cropped very short--she too looked feminine, but in the audience of a darkened theater a performer calling for a participant addressed her as "sir." Yikes! Poor girl. She was old enough to feel embarrassed. Honestly, when people say, "Oh, you are just the cutest little boy!" my girl cracks a big, toothless grin with a string of drool. If you're lucky, she won't spit up all over you.

Swim Update

Since my goals were for the end of the month, I didn't want to update until then. Sadly, I didn't reach my goals for this month, which were, in case you don't remember, to swim twice a week and to be able to swim four laps without having to stop for long breathers.

I almost reached that second one. I was able to swim four laps without stopping in the middle of any of them to breathe, but my rests at the end of the second and third are still fairly lengthy.

The first two weeks I made it swimming twice a week no problem. If I missed an early morning, I went on Saturday afternoon. But last week I came down with a bit of something, which made it so hard to get up and do anything more than take care of the baby at 5:30 in the morning. The Friday I was determined to go I slept straight through my alarm and woke up just in time for water aerobics (which is not what I do). I did go and lift weights though, which I figure is necessary cross-training.

This past week was midterms, aka: a TA's nightmare. Not only do I have to take my own midterms, but I also have to grade/input other students' midterms. Lame. Anyway, again, I didn't have the energy to swim at all this week.

So, goals for November:

1. Swim twice a week... really this time

2. Swim five laps in a row

3. Learn how to do one of those flippy things at the end of each lap.

Oh! I almost forgot, there are these two old men who swim 2 miles a day or something like that. They had these paddles on their hands, and I asked about them (they're for muscle gain), and one of them kind of took me under his wing. He taught me how to stroke, and gave me a pair of pretty nice goggles he says he never uses. Basically, I have an old-man mentor who popped out of nowhere, so according to Hollywood, I'm destined for greatness!

Freshmen Say the Darndest Things

The following are actual lines from an English 101 class I TA for. I have all the papers I'm taking these from right here with me, except one, but believe me, I remember exactly what it says. The prompt isn't always important, but I'm including it anyway for the ones that do. I'm also including my comments and, in rare cases, the comments I wish I could've written. I have made NO variations to what they've written in these quotes.

Prompt: What do you think the difference is between an educated person and an uneducated person?

"For all intensive purposes..."
I believe it's, "for all intents and purposes"

Prompt: What is your favorite book and why?

Sheila B. Favorite book: Bloody Jack, by L. A. Meyer
"You can always tell if a book was well written because it will be turned into a movie."
"Always" and "will" are absolutes. I advise you not to use these.

"I bet if every story had a character this loveable, there would be better books around so you wouldn't have to resort to classics for good reading."
I don't think people really "resort" to classics. I think they just like them. Also, there are some great contemporary novels. I bet you'd love them.

Cherie L. Favorite book: Twilight series, by Stephanie Meyer
"The love in this love story feels so real, the feelings that the characters feel instantly grows onto the reader."
LOTS OF FEELING GOING ON HERE.

Jennifer G. Favorite book: Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer
"This is a type of fairytale that isn't for 5 year olds, but it is a kind of fairytale that's only found in the super natural world."
How do these two clauses relate at all?

Jake R. Favorite book: Sahara, by Clive Cussler
"Then in the present day Dirk and Al are trapped between some terroriests and an evil corporate Executive are polluting the Nile, which is spreading towards the ocean."
What exactly is going on? And who exactly is involved?

Rebecca K. Favorite book: The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, by Anne Brashare
"Turns out her father was preparing to be remarried to beautiful blonde woman and her two children."
(Aside from the grammatical corrections): He's going to marry her two kids?

Kayla B. Favorite book: The Chamber, by John Grisham
"...it makes since that this fear will be different for each individual..."

AND THE WINNER IS...
Jon W. Favorite book: Twilight series, by Stephanie Meyer
His closing sentence is: "A book that will leave you crying at the end to finding out that you are not actually Bella."
So, you didn't want to be like the main MALE character of the book? You want to be like Bella? (This one left me in utter perplexity, but I refrained from making any actual comments.)

New Dishes!

So, while we were in Arizona, Mike and I looked online for some new dishes. I have a very small set that is missing a couple of pieces, and Mike has almost a full set of eight, but they're pretty old and again, some are missing. We figure we'll be able to sell his at least for a little bit, even just $10 or $20. He's gotten some good use out of them, so we wouldn't be loosing anything really. Besides, we had all this money and these gift cards - we might as well use it!

Anyway, we found some that we LOVED on Overstock.com, but they only had one set of 16. The set wasn't too too expensive, so we started looking on other sites for another. We found one on a site called Gifts1234.com or something like that, so, we bought them both. We loved the set. We were so excited to get them when we got back up to Grandma Clark's on our way back to Idaho.

When we got to Grandma's, there were no dishes. She said she'd give us a call when they came. Weeks went by, and still nothing. Finally, we contacted Gifts1234 and asked them what was up. They told us they hadn't shipped them because THEY DIDN'T HAVE ANYMORE! I just thought, are you kidding me? Mike was very put out with them. He contacted Overstock, who had at least sent us a confirmation of the purchase, and asked them why we hadn't received anything. They proved their incompetence by announcing to us that they didn't know what could have happened, and that they couldn't track the shipment. They promised to call us, but Mike told them not to bother, we didn't want the dishes anymore. Don't worry - we didn't lose any money.

So, we used the dishes we had, which aren't all too bad, and I was fine with just using those. Mike however, has been saying he still would like some new dishes. (Hey, if he wants them, I'm all for it!) Then we found, in the bottom of some box not yet unpacked, a pile of cash and forgotten gift cards! CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY! We headed out to IF yesterday to run some errands and then attend a young man's graduation from the drug rehab ranch Mike used to work at. We cashed in the gift card to BB&B, and bought some dishes we both really like from Target using the cash and some Target gift cards. We love it! Plus, since we bought the pieces all separately (plates came in packs of four and bowls in packs of two) we didn't have to spend money on pointless mugs. (Why do dish sets do that? I don't want to serve dinner with a bunch of mugs on the table. Mugs are for casual hot chocolate parties. Who cares if they match?!)

Anyway, here's a picture of the pieces in the set. The closest plate is just a little salad plate, and the further one is that actual dinner plate. We were both really happy to find this set. And it turned out to be quite a bit cheaper than the online buys, not even taking into account the cost of shipping.

Gypped

Ya wanna hear a funny story? Here’s one:

After going to IF to spend the $150 in Target gift cards people so kindly gave us, we excitedly brought our loot home. I was in the bedroom unpacking some box or another, and Mike started in on the Target bags in the living room. We had bought a Clear2O – the much-more-reasonably-priced equivalent of the Brita Water Pitcher. He opened the product’s box and called out, “What the? Malie!” I came to the living room, and asked what it was. He held up a wrapped wedding gift. “So?” I said, thinking it was one of ours. He held up the Clear2O box and showed me the insides. It was full of crumpled newspaper and, until a moment before, the wrapped gift which looked very much like a book.

I was like, “Wow! Someone really ripped Target off.” Then, as it sunk in, “How do we even prove this wasn’t us?” Mike immediately jumped on his phone and called Target. He explained what we found and they told him to bring it in sometime soon and they would refund us. (Thanks heavens!) A bit later, Mike opened our new storage ottoman to stuff a blanket inside and found it filled with a bunch of – get this – little girls’ school supplies. Hello Kitty notepads, .5 mechanical pencil refills, pink mechanical pencils, pens with big tufts of feathers on the end; you name it, it was in there!

So Saturday we took them all back to Target. (Not the ottoman of course, just its contents.) We walked up to Customer Service and unloaded. The kid was like, “Oh, that’s not cool.” His manager walked in and asked what was wrong. The kid showed him all the junk. The manager said they’d been have problems with people filling storage ottomans with stuff and then buying them. The wedding gift, he had to admit, was a new one! He called up another manager and told her it was time to start enforcing a “check-inside-storage-ottomans-at-register” rule. No kidding!