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.

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.

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.

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.

Completely random, but WHY HAVE I NOT SEEN THIS?!

*I feel the need to clarify that I am being totally facetious. I got an e-mail from Bryce's mom asking if I liked Snoop Dogg, and then Jenny's comment made me realize perhaps my sarcasm didn't shine forth the way I intended. But really, a movie this "awful" has to be seen by someone. Any volunteers?
Description from Netflix: "Jimmy Bones (Snoop Doggy Dogg) is a tough but fair pillar of his community who works hard to keep drugs out of the hood. Unfortunately, that doesn't stop fellow community members from turning on, murdering and then burying him in the basement of his home. Two decades later, the children of the man who betrayed him are about to turn Bones's property into a nightclub. Though his house is gone, Jimmy is not -- and through his spirit he vows revenge!"

Warning...

... depending on who you are and how you feel, this post will contain a word that you may not like.  It's not a curse word, but some people see it as one, and it's not one you want to hear come out of your child's mouth.  Unfortunately, I say it a lot.  

Yesterday morning, Bryce went to work a little late, so he was with us for breakfast.  It would have been quite nice if Ewan hadn't decided to make it the morning of tantrums, screaming, crying, whining, yelling... you name it.  It was quite bad, and at one point I said, "Ewan, I just don't understand what is going on.  Why are you so upset?"  

He whirled around and screamed at the top of his lungs, "Because everything you say PISSES ME OFF!!!!"

Unfortunately, we laughed.  Hard.  I may have snorted.

Cute little smart a**

Yesterday was my most challenging day as a mother of three so far.  I was tired and had been coughing all night, Corgan was having his own little screaming contest - trying to compete against himself.  Fynn was particularly needy, and Ewan was overly tired.  By the time Bryce got home at almost 7:00, I had lost my sanity, found it, only to lose it again (and again).  There were several times when Corgan was crying, Fynn was whining for something, and Ewan would ask me to do something.    A couple of those times, I turned to Ewan and said, "I'm not an octopus!  I don't have eight arms!  I can only do one thing at a time!"  After the second time, he got annoyed and asked, "Why do you keep saying that?"  I told him there was so much for me to do, and if I had eight arms I could do it all at the same time.  For an example, I said, "Everyone is crying!  Corgan's hungry and I have to feed him, plus Fynn needs a diaper change and you want me to fix your Transformer..."  He looked at me like I fell off of the short bus and said, "That's NOT eight things."

*Sigh*

Okay, yes, I am totally busy, shouldn't be on the computer, but I couldn't let this go undocumented for one second. I looked over at Fynn a little bit ago, and he had put Corgan's newborn hat from the hospital on Elmo's head. He held him up against his shoulder and started patting Elmo's back. Then he took him to his room and said he was "night night" and he shut the door.

Which reminds me, have you ever seen the following video from Sesame Street? Totally worth the time.

Pathetic

I don't need to tell anyone how pitiful men are when it comes to getting sick, do I?  I mean, most of us have seen  "Man Cold," right?  Well, Bryce is no exception and when he gets a sore throat, he has a habit of wrapping it up in a scarf or whatever he can get his hands on.  Tonight he used a scarf I received as a gift a few years ago.  He walked into the living room, Ewan took one look at him and asked, "What is that?!"  Without missing a beat, I told him it was Elmo skin.

So the question is...

... should I tell Ewan the truth or use it to get him to obey me...? - 

Shopping for socks at Target, standing in front of a huge wall full of them.  Ewan pulls one of the empty metal hanging rods off and says, "Uh-oh, Mommy, this came off."  Having my hands full with all three boys and not being able to go hang it back up, I said, "Well, um, just lay it nicely on the floor under the shelf."  Panic washed over his face as he frantically tried to get it back up and he said, "No, Mommy!  If I leave it there, someone will find it and they will call the police and the police will come looking for who did it and then they will get me!"

For you children of the 80s

If you don't know or don't remember A-ha's awesome song Take On Me and its even awesomer video, shame on you, and right this second - visit this link for a refresher. I'll wait.

Wasn't that a fun 'lil trip down memory lane?

Okay, now enjoy this "literal" version. Hilarious.

(Posts like this are the risk you take when you are up with heartburn at 1:00 am.)

Spotted on the way home from doctor...

... written in dust on back of 18 wheeler:

"I like boobies.  Driver can perform breast exams for free."

Quote of the Day

From a very incredulous Ewan:

"Daddy is very good at getting us money.  But every time he goes to work, I don't see any money..."

"Just like that one scary Transformer does..."

When I had Fynn, Ewan was so completely awesome.  Other than a little nail-biting in the beginning, he never showed any ill-adjustment or jealousy at all.  He loved him from the moment he saw him and has ever since.  I took that for granted, I think, and with this baby, I've mostly worried about how Fynn is going to take it.  He'll only be 22 months old when Corgan is born (whereas Ewan was almost three at Fynn's debut) and he's just a much more jealous type than Ewan ever was.  

But I suppose now that Ewan is older, he understands more and I might have a little more to deal with than I had anticipated.  Today, Ewan said, "When our new baby is here, I don't think I'm going to like him very much."  I asked him why, and he told me he wanted things to stay just as they are, "...with Fynn, and you and Daddy.  Fynn's a great brother."  I told him Corgan would be a great brother, too, and I told Ewan what a great brother he himself is.  

There were a few moments of silence, and then he said something that was extremely difficult not to laugh at, and I absolutely could not let myself laugh, because this was obviously a very important discussion.  So I was barely able to hold it in when he said, "It's just that... some babies make my teeth chatter."