C-DAWG!

Buckle in - this might get lengthy. This sweetest of all sweet boys in the whole world is our Corgan, also known as C-Dawg (to which he actually responds better.)

It does not escape my notice the unfortunate timing of my blogging "hiatus." It fell during many key early moments in Corgan's life, and I therefore feel that my record for him is incomplete, and unfair given the attention I've given to documenting the other boys' happenings. I am going to try to remedy that, and I must tell you that just looking at this picture as I type, I've got a big ol' lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. All I want to do is go wake him up, cuddle him and squeeze him. I just love him so, so much. However, he would never let me do such a thing.

Corgan has always been very different from my other boys. I often describe him as being like The Girl with a Curl:

"There was a little girl who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead;
When she was good, she was very, very good,
And when she was bad she was horrid."

I hesitate to say he's ever "bad," but that little rhyme always has entered my mind where he is concerned. He's just always been very excitable, easy to upset, and always does things that completely baffle us. Minor examples from early in his life were that he could not walk until he was 19 months old. (I was much less concerned with this than strangers and minor acquaintances were, trust me.) He had also started out saying words, and then he just stopped talking. It was all screams, all tantrums, all the time. I've been around kids my entire life, personally and professionally, so I know what is typical and what is extreme. Trust me when I say his behaviors become extreme. Screaming bloody, horrible murder in public - for no discernible reason. Throwing himself down in tempers - for no discernible reason. He's overly aggressive and rough. And he's also often not involved with what we are doing. He kind of moves along in the periphery of our family, or whatever group we may be with. The below picture, which I love, demonstrates this. It wasn't a stolen moment of him smelling flowers. This was all he did, just moved along as the whole family walked, in his own little world, investigated the environment, and often had to be called back into the fold, as he traipsed on his merry way. I can't get more specific, it would take ages, but he has definitely been a challenge. I have, until recently, chalked it up to being difficult, like me, and hoped he would grow out of it.


We were able to get somewhat of an answer because of his constant ear infections. The poor boy couldn't hear very well. Once we had tubes put in, things calmed down considerably for a few months, he started to say one or two words, but then that was it. The extreme behavior started again, and he wouldn't talk - never even calling me "Mama." I finally decided these things were not going to correct themselves over time, so I called ECI: Early Childhood Intervention. After several evaluations and meetings, more evaluations and more meetings (occupational therapists, speech therapists, child psychologist, child development specialist, etc.) he was diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder, more specifically, he is a "sensory seeking child." SPD "is the inability to use information received through the senses in order to function smoothly in daily life.... an umbrella term to cover a variety of neurological disorders." A child like this often can't translate cues in his environment to modify his behavior. For example, the child will pull the cat's tail, and get scratched, but he can't connect the two, so he continues, baffled at the cat's response. This is something I am still learning about, having only gotten a few chapters into the recommended book, The Out of Sync Child by Carol Stock Kranowitz. Brief examples from the book followed by Corgan's similar behavior:

• "Craves fast and spinning movement and may not get dizzy. Moves constantly, fidgets..., is a dare-devil and takes bold risks." Corgan often does not know his own strength. In an effort to be physically stimulated, he will hit us (not to be naughty), throw things, run into things. This all he thinks is absolutely hilarious. He enjoys grabbing Duncan and pushing his head down really hard. He does like to cuddle, but isn't still for it. He just constantly moves and shifts. Also, the story from my last post about him just riding his tricycle off the steps, that's very typical. And I watched him do it - it wasn't an accident - he very purposely did it.
• "Craves bear hugs and being squeezed and pressed. Seeks heavy work and more vigorous playground activities than others." Once he was officially diagnosed, they gave us a vest that is very tight for him to wear occasionally to give him some of that stimulation throughout the day. It is amazing what an impact this has had. He loves it and often asks to wear it. We've also discovered that when he is having one of his melt-downs, if we just grab him and SQUEEZE HIM so tight in a bear hug and apply firm pressure as we massage his back or arms or legs, he calms down pretty quickly. It is now very common for him to run to us asking for a "SKEEEEEZE!" They have also recommended a weighted blanket which will give him that stimulation at night, to help with mornings, which are very rough 99% of the time. But these blankets are quite pricey, so that will have to wait.
• "Seeks visually stimulating scenes and screens for lengthy times. Is attracted to shiny, spinning objects and bright flickering light, such as strobe lights or sunlight streaming through blinds." Now all kids love them some TV, so at first this was a weird one for me, especially since Corgan actually doesn't like to watch TV much. He used to like Yo Gabba Gabba, but now he doesn't care. (It'd actually be a big help if I COULD get him to watch some TV.) But then I realized something about the lights. He's fascinated with lights, turning them on and off obsessively. And something that I finally JUST connected to all of this was the way he will get a light-up toy or flashlight, and shine it on a wall or the cat, or most often Duncan's face, and he cracks up so hard he starts to cough - just because of seeing the light's reflection.
• "Welcomes loud noises and TV volume... May speak in a booming voice." Ewan and Fynn have always been very sensitive to noise, and both were completely terrified of the vacuum and lawn mower. Not Corgan. He's obsessed with the vacuum and the lawn mower. We have to keep him from getting too close. He also likes to see how loud and high-pitched he can get his voice to be, and revels in my not-so-favorable reaction.
• "May taste or lick inedible objects, like Play Do and toys..." Yes, all kids eat play-do, but Corgan will put absolutely anything and everything in his mouth, still. He'd eat anything if I'd let him, except for the actual food I put in front of him!

There are many more examples, but these are the ones I can best describe. Since he has been receiving therapy from the different therapists listed above, things have really taken a complete turn. There are still many challenges, but he is learning and using words at an exponential rate, we are able to curb more tantrums than we ever could before, and I finally feel not so helpless. Things had gotten so bad that sometimes I had to close my eyes or look at pictures to remember him as a little baby so I could extend my patience just a little bit more.
One of my best friends, Scarlett, was visiting from L.A. Her parents own some land and several horses, and she and her sister have ridden their entire lives in competitions and taught lessons. It was mentioned by one of the therapists how horse-back riding is sometimes used for children like Corgan for speech therapy. As Scarlett took him around on this horse, she told me he really blossomed and was chattering and she could tell a big difference in his demeanor as they walked along. I wish I could afford to enroll him in some sort of program. He sure does look at home on that horse.

Besides all this, he is a very sweet, very smart and fun little boy. He loves to play with his trucks and cars and he loves the exercises they have given us for him. Strangely enough, even though his speech is many months behind schedule, he knows all of his ABCs and some of his numbers. He loves Duncan and will rub his head and say "so soft." His favorite person on this planet is Bryce. He LOVES his Daddy like I've never seen from any other kid I've ever been around. If Daddy is home, I am persona non grata. But that's ok. He loves me deep-down, and nothing makes my heart skip a beat more these days than when Corgan calls out, "Mama!"

Happenings that Should Only Take Place in Horror Flicks or Gross-out Comedies

I used to be able to find stuff to write about all the time. Now that I'm trying to catch up with this blog and keep up, I don't find much I want to say. You'd think with four boys, two dogs, four (and a half) kitties, etc., that the hits would just keep on coming. I still plan on doing a post for each boy, but time is limited and chaos ensues to keep me from sitting for long stretches to write. Well, the last two days have made sure to give me enough fodder for a good ol' longish post.

My fish, Russell Brand, was inadvertently killed by the flea fogger we set off this weekend. All rodents and fishies were herded into the safety of the laundry room, but Bryce overlooked dear Russell. Alas, he was flushed to a watery grave this evening.

Last night, Bryce was working, and after successfully putting all of the boys to bed (yay for Duncan sleeping in his OWN BED all night every night), I was ready to get a wee snack and paint my nails and chill to some Devil Wears Prada. I had just freed "the twins" from their constricting prison, so I was flopping free and I walked into the kitchen where I felt a substantial SPLAT against my chest. Down into my shirt. And it was moving. I looked down straight into the loving eyes of one of these "little" bastards: That's a Texas tree roach for those of you not in-the-know. And they're big. Like... as long as your finger. They come out in full force in the summer and sometimes I catch one, saddle it up and let the mouse take a ride. As if it couldn't possibly get worse - a giant ROACH, for crying out loud - but they also fly. So, yeah, one of these guys had decided to go to second base with me. After inventing a few new cuss words on the spot, I watched as he scurried under the sink. I checked my pulse and decided not to call 911, then promptly put it out of my head to prevent roach dreams.

Bryce's schedule is the night shift this week, so he's here every day until 2:00. Neither one of us could sleep well last night, so we agree to trade off naps this morning. He got the first nap, I took the second. He lets the kids snack more than I do, and it's often I'll come home from an errand or out of my room from sleeping in, and the kids are carrying boxes of crackers/cereal/cookies, crumbs scattering everywhere. This morning, it was Corgan carrying around a box of Cocoa Puffs. I came to put Duncan on the floor, and started picking up the cereal that had fallen so Duncan wouldn't find them and gag. All was well... until... I picked up a Cocoa Puff that wasn't crunchy. And it wasn't as... sweet... as said cereal. Ladies and Gentlemen, I had picked up a turd. It seriously was the same size and color as the cereal all over the floor. But it was a turd. Corgan's diaper had failed in its duty to serve and protect our family from stray turds. While picking up a foul brown ball was not in my plans today, I can say I'm very glad I found it and that the baby's mouth didn't.

And finally, tonight, Corgan sneaked the tricycle into the living room while my back was turned and rode it straight down the steep double step into our bedroom. His nose was bleeding. And it bled a lot. And bled and bled and bled. Then it bled some more. I was thisclose to taking him to the ER fearing he'd broken it; it was bleeding too much for me to even look at it. It did finally stop, but not before soaking his shirt and mine. I also had some charming bloody sneeze spatters all over me. He's fine now, but the tricycle might have suffered some injuries as it was thrown with great force out into the front yard.

Here's hoping for a calmer rest-of-the-week.

Sisters and babies!

Happy birthday to my cute nephew, Jonah, who is one today, which I totally cannot believe. He's my younger sister's son, their first baby, and he has Amy's red hair. He's a handsome little man, and I can't wait to see him again!

Jonah

And something I can't believe even more is that today Corgan is eleven months old! I feel like I was in the hospital with him last week! He is just about ready to pull up to stand, but he's so stubborn and he gets so frustrated that he gives up. It's pretty cute! All of my boys kind of waited until the very last minute for every milestone, so I know he'll get there. I CAN'T BELIEVE he'll be one year old next month! Time is stealing my boys away from me!

Corgan

On that note, because I was behind on my blog earlier this month, I didn't document the birth of another nephew, making me an aunt for the 24th time. Camden McKay Myers was born to Ashley and Jon, their fifth child, on Septemeber 10, and we are so excited he's here! Belated congratulations to Ashley and family! I can't wait to get to know him!

Camden

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

... start writing again. Really. I think I can. I WILL do it. It may take me a while to get back into the writing groove, but I will try. Since I don't have anything spectacular to report right now, I think I'll just give some wee updates on different topics and post a few pictures. Then we'll see what I can come up with tomorrow. Or the next day. Or, you know, sometime.

Ewan is incredible. He is loving kindergarten, and announced yesterday he has a girlfriend named Sarah. For the past two days, all he has talked about are the superhero team he has formed with Sarah, Natalie, each of us, and the cats. For Halloween, he wants to be AntMan, a hero he made up after an ant bit him (mimicking what he'd seen on Spiderman when Peter Parker is bitten by the spider.) Ewan is incredibly smart, and excessively sensitive. I love him madly and am so glad to be his mommy. I'm afraid he's more like me than I would like to admit, and that equates to being a major challenge. He requires more patience and care than the other two put together, but I know through prayer and faith, it'll all be worth it.
Fynn is hilarious and fun and stubborn and frustrating, and acts like a turd much of the time. He's in his testing phase, which means he ignores nine out of ten words that come out of my mouth just so he can see how I'll react. Unfortunately, I haven't been strict enough on him - not like I was on Ewan. Being pregnant and having Corgan when Fynn was so young really threw a wrench in my parenting philosophies and one year later, we are still recovering. But I'm trying to get the reins back, and hope to be raising a polite, kind, obedient little boy soon. I mean, within reason. He is a little boy, after all. And a very cute one at that. His face is so angelic, it belies the growling attitude he has most of the time. But he's still my little cherub who loves to play ball and cars, be a superhero, and copies everything his big brother does. Everything.

Corgan is quite a big boy. His height and weight are in the 95th percentile. He actually only began to army crawl about one month ago; the doctor said when they are tall and big like that it is harder for them to get their heft around. Today for the first time, he can go from crawling to sitting up all on his own. And he's ready to start pulling up to stand. It's possible he'll be a slightly late walker, but I'm not concerned. He loves the kitties and meows back at them. He actually had a two minute long conversation with momma kitty Ruby today. It was very cute. He says "dada" and is working on "mama" which usually comes out "nana." He's still more blond than his brothers, and I kiss his feet and squeeze his thighs regularly. I can't believe he'll be one year old in a month. I mean, didn't I just have him last month?

The animal kingdom is alive and thriving in my home. Well, maybe not thriving. Two months ago, a hamster escaped its cage and was found the next day - rather, a piece of her was found the next day. I guess Ruby was hungry. In addition, Ruby has severed the tails of two, count them, TWO different gerbils, as well as murdering another. The survivors, short stub tails notwithstanding, are doing well. One of them has become my friend, squeaking at me and letting me pet her. The other gerbil... Well, I just can't help wishing SHE had escaped her cage instead of the hamster. I actually have a pretty funny story about that, but I'll save it. I went a little crazy after the deaths of the gerbil and hamster, and replaced them rapidly. So the current (and final) tally is two gerbils, two mice, and two hamsters. I can't help it; I like the furry little buggers.

We have kept two of the kittens from Ruby's litter, two little boys we named Oliver and Mudflap (Ewan named him after a Transformer.) They are sweet little guys, and I love them so!


Lucy, a cat I bought with babysitting money when I was 16 years old, had to be put to sleep last week. She had a tumor behind her tongue that couldn't be removed without removing her tongue. So she was basically going to starve to death either way. I went to the veterinarian with my dad, who has been her constant companion since I left and got married, and I was with her until the end, which wasn't easy. I tell you, that cat has absorbed more of my tears in years past as she gave me love and comfort - during an awful heartbreak, through getting over it, moving away from home, coming back with my tail between my legs, through meeting Bryce and watching him leave on a mission, through the two years waiting for him to come home...
I feel badly for my parents, who had gotten quite attached to her, more attached than I've ever seen them to any other animal. But I'm sure she's happy, and I feel confident she's somewhere with my little Flex, playing and being friends.

Me, I'm still fat and trying to motivate myself to work out and lose the stinkin' weight. I had a setback in the middle of July when I injured my knee and had to have surgery. It's still not back at 100%, but I'm doing physical therapy, and hope to be back to normal very soon. Then I won't have any more excuses. Ewan said to me the other day, "Mommy, you need to lose weight. Every day you look like you have a baby in your belly. I call you 'needing to lose weight' mommy." It didn't hurt my feelings, it made me laugh. But when my five year old can tell I'm unhealthy, it's very convincing. For too long I've thought, "Hey, I'm young, I have time, I don't have to worry about disease or diabetes, yet." I realized finally that I am working my way through my 30s, and I don't have time anymore.

Bryce and I had our garage converted into a bedroom for us. Our home is very small - 850 sq. ft. give or take, only two bedrooms, and we were sharing a room with Corgan. There were days Bryce would come home and I'd be laying on my bed having a claustrophobic fit. There was just room for nothing, and often when I needed a moment to myself, Corgan would be napping and I couldn't go in there. I'm grateful for our house, and we have a nice, huge backyard, but we really needed our own space. So now we do, and it's lovely. Thanks to *you know who you are* for this wonderful room, and thanks to Shannon for helping me put it together.

This is already too long - the perils of not keeping up. I hope you stuck through to this point. Hopefully I will be up and running more often, humor intact. And now I need to catch up on all of your blogs! Now - good night!

Summer Survival

Ewan has a need to entertained constantly. Despite his reading abilities, he is not a child who will go sit quietly and read for an extended period of time. He has never enjoyed playing alone much, and besides wrestling Fynn in great matches that rival WWE Smackdown, he can't find anything to do. I tolerate the wrestling as long as I can, until Corgan is sleeping or my ears start to bleed, but he just won't/can't stop. He just moves constantly at lightning speed. From one end of the house to the other, over and over again. He truly can not even sit still for a short conversation or even to one sentence. And he has become quite belligerent - talking back, telling me no, questioning literally every tiny thing I say. I've taken the kids swimming, let them play out back in the water and mud, play in the sprinklers, taken them to the play area at the mall, and turned on more PBS Kids than should be legally allowed. But he's bored stiff. He really is just too smart for his own good, and I can't keep up with him! Mary Ann has offered to take him some or to watch the other boys while I take him places, but he can't be going somewhere constantly. He won't read, won't play blocks, loses interest in his Transformers very quickly now... I'm at a loss. He blossomed so much while in PreK, and I just can't wait for him to start kindergarten. He really needs that structure, constant learning, and something new every day. It's going to be a long summer. (That's not to say I won't bawl my eyes out when he starts, but, hey - methinks I'll get over it quickly.)

Corgan has two teeth now, yay! And they are the cutest teeth I've ever seen. Fynn is just busy being Fynn, talking in longer sentences every day. Not much else to report besides some cat in the neighborhood is a mourning dove assassin and I am finding their carcasses in the yard several times a week. It's been real swell.

I will go ahead and be quite frank here on my blog - I think it helps me. I've been in major denial about my weight until last week when I stepped on the scale on a whim. The wind was knocked out of me when I saw that I now weigh 194 pounds. I about fell over. With all three pregnancies, I managed to keep my weight right under 200 up until delivery day, so to see myself that close and NOT be about to deliver a baby, it freaked me out. I've cut waaaaaaay down on my Coke habit (love referring to it that way) and my abiding love for Cinnabon Cinnamon Bread. I admit I've fallen off the wagon the last two days, but it won't stop me. I'm doing it this time, by gosh! I even bought some fun exercise DVDs geared to kids and their moms. Should be fun!

'Sup?

I was just about to head to bed, but remembered I wanted to try and post something every day, just to get back into the groove. So read at your own peril, it's really just me trying to fill some space. Things are going well over here at the Taylor household. Bryce and I are finally starting to feel like we are catching up financially due to his second job. So we're breathing a little easier, which is always a good thing. Ewan is already bored senseless since school isn't in session, and some of those interesting behaviors of his that had largely disappeared with pre-K attendance are now back with a mighty vengeance. It's going to be interesting getting through to the new year. Fynn is feisty, feisty, feisty. It's funny to look at your children and see yourself manifested in them. I thought Ewan was exactly like me, with some of his anxieties and behaviors, but I realize that Fynn is also exactly like me in a different way. Just ask my mom - apparently I came out of the womb practically hissing in feistiness. That's Fynn for you - it's me all over again. Corgan is now sitting up on his own, but he absolutely refuses to even attempt a crawl. It's frustrating because the Baby Olympics are in a month, and he's behind in his training.

We've had another pet death, our gerbil, Piper. I really don't know what happened. She was just dead. I feel bad for Sophie, her cage mate, because they were just the best of friends. You can't put another gerbil in with one that is already established, because they'll fight. But they are quite social creatures, so I'm sure she's lonely. Poor thing. You may think I'm totally crazy, but Flex's death bothered me so much that instead of getting my cat fixed as planned - I pimped her back out for another litter. She's starting to get all round on the sides. (Don't tell the animal activists, they'll picket my house.) I just want a kitten that doesn't have to have a territorial fight with Ruby over the house. We've already had two cats abandon us because we brought Ruby home. So this way, they know each other from the beginning! Sorry, I'm just a total cat freak. I may even keep two kittens. Just to make up for the trauma of losing Flex the way we did.

By the way, if you haven't already, got to Primp and Tell to enter our latest giveaway. It's a good one!

Okay, I'm already going to bed an hour later than I promised myself, so auf wiedersehen.

Happy 6 months to C-Dawg

The Corganator rolls over both ways, shrieks like an owl just to hear himself, cries a lot over his teeth, is fascinated by the kitties, laughs and grins like the Cheshire cat, adores Ewan and is being really stubborn about sitting-up practice. Oh, and he reeeeeallllly loves his mommy. And I love him. *Sigh*

On a related note, happy 7 months to baby cousin Jonah!

Just because I'm bored and it's cute

This is a picture of Ewan when he was one year old - his first Easter. I accidentally flipped to this last night in a photo album, and was shocked at how much I see Corgan in this little face. And I can't believe Ewan isn't this little baby anymore.

Glorified Online Picture Album

I realize this is what my blog has become, but I'm okay with that. My energies are going to other places right now. At any rate:

One of the fun things about having boys is getting spectacularly goofy shirts like this one that remind me of stuff my brothers would have worn.

I know he's only two, but I swear he's never going to grow out of using his ice-cream bowl as a hat. Maybe I should stop taking pictures of it. It perpetuates the myth that it's amusing.

Huh. I guess it is amusing. And cute. Until I have to clean it up. You should have seen his booster seat. Maybe he does it for the afternoon bath that inevitably follows.

We never found the third white kitty that disappeared. I really am completely flummoxed as to what could have happened. Here are the two white survivors. They have markings like a Siamese. One of them will have a permanent home with us. Probably the boy.

Yeah, enjoy it now, Mama Kitty. The vet is calling your name.

Mary Ann has staked her claim on this little guy. He is quite cute. Wait, it's a girl. I think.

Hodgepodge

Saturday, we wanted to get out of the house, and since the Wisteria are blooming everywhere, I really wanted to go to the Botanical Gardens. My grandmother had Wisteria growing all over her back fence, and in the spring, you could smell it the second you pulled up in her driveway, and the backyard would just be a wonderland of purple. She's been gone for nearly twelve years now, and whenever I see Wisteria, I think of her. (I think of her with many flowers, actually.) I have some growing in my yard, but they don't bloom yet because it's a young vine. Watch - the first year we are out of this house, they will explode. We were looking for them at the Gardens on one of the paths, when Ewan and I both said, "I smell grapes!" We turned a corner, and BAM! there they were. It was gorgeous. They are right next to the roses, and the combination of the two scents made me feel like I was sitting RIGHT THERE in Grandma's backyard, talking about flowers and babies. She lived only a few blocks away, and when I was babysitting my nephew Chandler, Amy and I would put him in the stroller and walk over there. He'd play by her little fish pond while we all talked.

From a distance - look how high they climb.

Strolling

I wrote a poem years ago about sunbathing with turtles. I would post it here, but I'm sure it's not as good as I thought at the time.

A reluctant pose from Ewan. His favorite part of the excursion was sitting and being able to play with his new Transformers.

Another reluctant pose.

I didn't even ask him to sit for this. He just wandered over to this tree like it was a professional shoot, and he was a model. Then he started ripping daffodils out of the ground.

My attempt at photography.

Mommy and a 5-month-old Corgan. Let this serve as his 5 month post.

I could not resist posting this, with Fynn's arm around Corgan like real chums. I love these boys so much. Continuing on the 5-month-post vein, Corgan is growing so much. He "talks" all day and shouts out to hear himself. He's rolling from stomach to back, and almost from back to stomach. He usually ends up turning a 180 in the attempt.

Corgan

On Friday night, we had the Saunders and the Bowers over for a little Wii tournament and pizza. When you combine Ewan, Fynn, Ben, Brady and Natalie together, the chaos that ensues is far worse than any accounts you'll hear of the L.A. riots. It's loud, and I mean LOUD. We laid Corgan down for the night, and we were all amazed at how well he stayed asleep through all of it. Our house is quite small, so the chaos was basically right outside the bedroom door. But he slept right through it. I may know why - I stepped in to check on him at one point and found him covering his ear.

I thought this was a girl thing...

Needless to say, Ewan is now sporting an incredibly short buzz cut. We couldn't do it as short as he cut it, or he would have been bald. How he cut that close to the scalp without cutting himself, I'll never know.

And just because they are so cute, pictures of the other boys for fun.
If he's not wearing his Superman cape, he's wearing his backpack, usually with a baseball hat.

Growing up.

A bonafide PreK-er

Bryce and I have wanted Ewan in Pre-K for a long time. He attended one at a recreation center last Spring, but had some anxieties about it, and didn't want to go back in the Fall. For those of us who know us well, Ewan has some issues feeling very anxious and timid a lot. But he's so smart, and he is so very bored here at home. I haven't pushed preschool on him, because last year, it was not pretty. And, um, we can't afford it. However, it has become more and more apparent that he needs it. After talking to our Primary pianist, Mary (now 1st counselor, yay!), we found out we actually qualified for him to attend for free.

First thing this morning, I enrolled him, and he was able to attend this afternoon. There were a few moments that made me afraid he was going to panic, but he did very well, and came out with a huge smile. I'm excited about it for him, although I was a little peeved when after asking him what they did today, he said, "I don't remember. We watched Cars." Is there an emoticon for severely irritated and distressed? Or rather, a "What the hell?" emoticon? Anyway, he assured me it was only the last part of the movie, and right before they dismissed. I'm hoping it's because it was Friday... I mean, even though it's free, I can stick Cars in the DVD player here at home. We're going to give it a week and see how it goes. A bonus for me, though: He gets dropped off at 12:20 and is dismissed at 3:20. Fynn's nap is from 1:00 to 2:45. Corgan sleeps whenever he's snuggled with me. Do you see where I'm going with this? Mommy gets a nap, now! YAY!

Fynn was very upset when we dropped Ewan off. I'm not sure if it was because he was going to miss Ewan or because he got a glimpse of all those toys in the classroom. After nap, I told him we were going to pick up Ewan, and he was so mad when I didn't walk out the door right that very second. He was screaming - he wanted his "Ooowah."

To celebrate the occasion, Ewan got this brand spankin' new Transformers backpack. Alas, he doesn't actually need it for Pre-K...

But he doesn't love it any less, especially since it came with this super rad bifold wallet. With a real dollar bill inside!

After taking the above pictures, I look down to see this. You think he wants his picture taken with his backpack, too?

It was pretty cool being here with Fynn alone for awhile. It's so hard when I'm juggling the three of them, and Ewan requires a lot of intervention and involvement. But today, I was able to spend quality alone time with him while Corgan was asleep. He's so fun and is talking so well.

Ewan and Corgan are great friends.

Four month old blondie

Corgan turned four months old on Sunday. He has become the most smiley, laughing little boy ever. When Ewan and Fynn were babies, they didn't cry much, but getting a smile out of them was like pulling teeth. With Corgan, he's quite the crier, but when he's not yelling, that baby can GRIN. And he laughs so much. I discovered at my parent's house the other day that if I hold him in front of the mirror, he will talk to himself and giggle. I tried to capture this on my camera today as my friend Vanessa held him. The picture is awful and it won't upload anyway, but I assure you it is quite cute. Also, I don't even know what to think of this - but his hair is growing in very light - almost blond so far. My other boys have such dark hair, so it's kind of strange to see him looking so different! I'm pretty sure he wasn't switched at birth. I guess I just figured they would all look so much the same. It's going to be fun to watch the differences emerge. I should have a better four-month picture, but he was so cute sleeping on the couch with his mouth open and tongue hanging out. He makes it so hard not to squeeze him as hard as I can. Which would be very hard, indeed, because his cuteness fuels my strength.

Unloading the camera

Ewan and Fynn got new baseball hats.  Fynn sleeps with his every nap time.  I found him like this the other afternoon.  Trying to shield the light from his eyes?

Chillin' on a Sunday afternoon.

I think she wants some gerbil meat.  Must be a pregnancy craving for protein.  Yep, she's pregnant.  Want a kitten?  You know I'll end up keeping one.

If only Corgan had been next to Fynn instead of Bryce, and I would have had perfect little stairsteps.

Do these belong to you?  I washed a load of laundry and these were in the bottom of the washer when it was done.  I have never seen them before in my life.  Neither has Ewan.  Fynn can't tell me what I need to know.  I cannot figure out where they came from.  Please let me know if they are yours, and I shall return them.  I guess the exchange rate for a pair of socks is two play butter-knives.