Keeping it REAL.

So we were awesome this week. We attended our first ever Real Salt Lake game. Well, really our first soccer game ever. Transformative, I tell you. I am contemplating becoming a soccer fan. Contemplating. It's that or quidditch. Because I kind of felt like Harry Potter should be swooping in on a broomstick to take the ball with sll the red and gold. Not to mention the lion mascot. But soccer is awesome too. I am now a soccer expert. I know everything about everything. See, you kick the ball into the other teams net. And sometimes this pesky ref steps in and makes up rules about offsides and fouls and stuff. If these rules help our team, they are good rules. If they help the other team, they are dumb rules and the ref is a biased scumbag. If you're mean you get a yellow card. (They don't actually give it to you, they just hold it in the air. If they actually gave it to you I would collect them and show people how awesomely bad I was on the soccer field.) If you're really, really mean, you get a red card and you can't play with the other kids any more. See, I catch on quickly. Anyway, it was a great game. Because we won. At the last second. Which is intense and awesome and the other team sat down and cried because of our clear superiority. Not even kidding. Mostly Jessie and I enjoyed googling rules and heckling the diehard fans who kept standing up in excitement whenever the ball got near the other goal. You would suppose that since Jessie served a mission in South America, he would come home with a deep and abiding love and knowledge of the game, but you would suppose wrong. He doesn't know anything. Don't tell him I told you because he has a reputation to maintain with the menfolk. Point of the story: you should go see a soccer game. Feel the adrenaline. Sing the Cougar fight song. Or the Real fight song, whichever.

You'll always be two years older than me, sucker!

 Ha! Insert pathetic excuses for inability to blog here. Moving on, it's time, a week late, to honor our venerable patriarch on the anniversary of the commencement of his life journey. This year I thought I'd share with you, in honor of his 28th, the many roles of Jessie Warner. In no particular order:

 

A husband to a wife who gets a little crazy. The patience of that man...is not quite equal to Job. But close. Really close. He could be Job's second in a duel.

 A father to some rambunctious children. Who love him more than me. Stinkpot. But really, who can blame them? Look at that face. Also he bribes them with candy and entertainment.

An able businessman and marketing rockstar. Or so he tells me. Okay, other people tell him and then he tells me. But seriously folks, the finest working mind of our generation.

Our mode of transportation. So we got him his very own identification so the police don't impound him if we leave him parked illegally outside the library.

 Food and drink taster extraordinaire. A most discriminating palate. He makes sure we don't eat crummy food. Because that would be embarrassing.

 Class clown. His job is too make sure we never take ourselves to seriously, and to cheer us up when we run out of fruit snacks and ice cream. He is relentless in this duty.

 Horsey whenever the situation may require. Such as when our van breaks down and we need to get to the county store. Or when the girls need to practice roping and shoeing.

 Our victor and champion in all circumstances. Always fighting for the little people. Since we're all littler than him, that's handy for us.

 The scariest monster you'll ever meet, consuming and tickling small children in a single bound. Except when you catch the monster crying in a corner because no one likes him. But if you assure him he is your best friend ever and sit in his lap and feed him a cookie, he usually feels better and might go back to eating you or your sister.

 Shepard to our little flock, although he is more accomplished with chocolate and timeouts than crooks and fences. Also the sheep have him wrapped around their finger and more often lead him around. But he's the leader in spirit or something like that.

Strong man for all difficult situations, good for opening a can, chasing a spider, or carrying car seats and sleepy children. And he doesn't even have to work out.

I just added a picture of him in a tux because I can. And because he makes it look good.

So you see, we would be quite lost without our brave leader, and we're pretty glad he decided to be ringmaster of this little circus. Happy birthday Senor Warner, and may the odds be ever in your favor! :-)

A birthday shoutout: The princess

So it's about time I got on here again. I'm starting to wonder how people find time to blog with three children. Well, not time so much as motivation and brain power. I find my world renowned wit and addicting writing skills are easily banished after a day tending to the elementary needs of three little munchkins, not to mention helping them to self-actualization and other higher functions. I know you all weep for my infrequent intrusions into your life, but never fear. I seem to be getting slightly better at getting these done with multiple dependents, so maybe in about twenty years I'll have figured out how to blog, too.

Anyhow. Moving on to exciting things. We actually got around to taking semi nice and professional (aka, our neighbor with our camera in the backyard) pictures on Easter, with everyone in clean Sunday clothes, so gear up for one of our infamous and popular picture extravaganzas, coming soon! But first, it's time for that time honored tradition of honoring Warner birthdays in the internet world. This time our VIP is this little imp, only not so little now:


Our little firstborn is four years old now, and she couldn't be more thrilled. She likes to remind me that she's big, and they're so many things she can do, like go to Minnesota unaccompanied and drive race cars at Daytona. Oh, and get dressed by herself.


Apparently we go to rock concerts on a regular basis. But seriously. We're pretty happy with this girl. When she's not being a diva and keeping me at the end of my rope, she's being adorable and grown up and hysterical. She lives in her own special world, where Easter is important because Jesus was born from an egg and babies get birth marks from the markers they play with in utero. She loves to help cook, or in other words, sample and stir every dish I make. And she's a great big sister; when she's not smothering or sitting on her siblings, she's making them giggle and smile and fetching diapers.
She had a great birthday full of macaroni and cheese, friends, way too many presents, pizza, puzzles, candy, and yes, tears, because it wouldn't be a day with Madeline without a little drama. Perfect day. We're addicted to our little teenager, her smile, her ability to make us laugh, and her sensitive spirit. Our little princess keeps us on our toes and we wouldn't trade her for the world. Although we do rent her out on weekends for your entertainment. Also she scrubs walls.

Happy birthday Madeline! Remember: 4, not 16. Thanks.