Beats cursing

Ewan's favorite movie all last week was "The Last Mimsy." Tonight while he was walking with a plateful of fish sticks, they all slid right off of the plate and onto the floor. Looking down at them in dismay and frustration, suddenly he exclaimed, "THE LAST OF ALL MIMSYS!!!"

Of course, I laughed.

He looked at me very sternly. "I wasn't saying that to be funny."

Good things

To make up for my earlier rant, and to put myself in a better mood after Fynn threw up again all over his crib and bedding, and Ewan had an accident on the floor, I'll now post some things that are good right now and that I am grateful for.


1. John showing up to pick Ben up a little early, bearing an ice-cold 20 oz. Coke. And he didn't even take me up on my offer of $1,000,000.

2. My new table and chairs, which I plan on posting about soon. Too long I endured a peeling table from Goodwill. No more. Ikea to the rescue. My kitchen looks so nice.

3. The dogs are staying in the yard. For now.

4. The littlest baby is moving more and more every day and making his presence known.

5. We are getting a brand-new, FREE double stroller from some incentive program at Bryce's work. YAY!

6. Fynn is napping. Hopefully to wake up puke-free this time.

7. No one else is sick (crossing fingers).

8. I think I figured out what happened to the fish. Pretty sure it swam way up into the shell in the bowl and got stuck. Which, you know, is sad, but at least I know. Whether it was suicide or not, I can't be sure.

9. On my table are several good fashion magazines just waiting for me to peruse.

10. Bryce promises to not be late from work.

11. I dreamt I had adopted another rabbit. Woke up to find it wasn't true. Always a bonus.

*** Updated to add one more great thing - Just now, I flipped on the TV to see if Oprah had anything good on, and Ewan, sitting on the couch coloring next to me, randomly said, "Yeah, Oprah's a fake." He swears he never heard anyone else say it, that he made it up himself.

Boring, I know, but that's all I had for now, without getting totally sappy. Which I don't like to do. So there you go.

Quest for the Holy Grail

Ugh, it's late, and I want to be asleep.  But I remembered I needed to check Ashley's blog for Chloe's birthday pictures, so I popped up really quickly.  While I was looking, I was reminded of something that happened at the party that irritated me.  One of the people asked the sex of my baby, and when I told her, she said, completely dismayed, "OH YOUR POOR THING!"  And she didn't mean anything by it, and it's not like it's a lone incident.  It's just the cherry on top of lots of comments I've gotten, both from strangers and from acquaintances, who I know mean well, and it's not really offensive as much as "IHHH!"  (Ashley knows exactly how that should be pronounced.)

Anyway, it boils down to this:  when did giving birth to a girl become the Holy Grail of pregnancy?  I admit I wanted a girl, but it was more for naming purposes than anything.  I have the hardest time naming my boys, and I have the perfect girl's name all ready to go.  But I'm thrilled we're having another boy!  It's gonna be so fun (hard, but fun).  I always knew I would have tons of boys.  But people will ask me, "Do you know what it is?"  And when I tell them it's a boy, they always look so deflated and disappointed.  "Oh, well you'll get your girl next time."  Um, what?  This is a person who is coming to be a part of our family, and he belongs here!  That's totally awesome and exciting and just indescribable!  Boys are so cool.  One of my favorite sounds in the world is a little boy imitating a race car, or roaring like a tiger.  I love their cowlicks and skinny legs.  I love their dirt grimy hands when they cover mine.  And I love when Ewan, in perfect imitation of me and every member of the Anderson family, grabs my arm or hand, squeezes as hard as he can while gritting his teeth and says, "Squeeze you 'til you pop!"  They are just awesome, and in case there was ever a question, once I found out it was a boy for sure, it was like, "Oh, of course, I knew you were coming.  We've saved a place for you."  

Even if I have to call him "No-name Taylor."

Help me name the baby!

Obviously, I love Irish/Gaelic names.  I love both of my boys' names so much.  Ewan Bryce and Fynn Christian.  Both Bryce and Christian are family names, and I kind of wanted to follow that same pattern, but I might have to break it this time.  I love the name Liam, but after a little research, I really feel like it's gotten too trendy for me.  My whole idea was to name him Liam Kelly.  That's just not going to work for me, now, even though here he is constantly referred to as Liam.  The other name I found that I like is Cael or Caelan.  But I need a middle name!!!  I can't think of anything.  And obviously I can't do Cael Kelly.  So, if you know of any good middle names for that, or if you know of any good Irish names I'm not thinking of (that aren't too popular), shoot me some ideas.  With both kids, when I finally "heard" their names in my head (thanks to Ashley for helping me put Ewan and Bryce together.  And I fell completely in love with the name Fynn after seeing the Ethan Hawke version of Great Expectations when it first came out.) I swear it was like angels singing, they were so perfect.  I want the same experience for this one.  It's part of the reason I wanted a girl; I knew I was going to have such a hard time finding another boy's name I love.  Mary Ann is on her way this morning to Ireland for a lovely trip.  She's also going to keep her eye out for me.  Maybe a baby name book right from Ireland...

Mean mommy

Yesterday, I fixed a nice dinner, one that was full of things Ewan normally loves to eat.  Pork chops, corn on the cob, macaroni and cheese.  But Ewan has been in this odd habit lately of suddenly saying he "hates" his favorite foods, and refusing to eat.  Sometimes he'll have eaten at least 3/4 of a meal, then suddenly put his fork down and say, "This is gross!"  So last night at dinner, he pulled this little trick, and as he often claims to be hungry right before bed to get a piece of buttered toast, we told him there was no way he was getting anything.  We were also about to go visit my parents, so we told him no cookies or snacks there at all.  

Surprisingly, he didn't beg for any snacks there, even when it was discovered they had Oreos.  But he suddenly got it into his head that they were going to fix him a "nice dinner."  We kept telling him he couldn't eat anything there, but he could have some of our nice dinner when we got home.  He kept begging and pleading, "PLEASE!!  I want to eat a nice dinner HERE!!!"  I repeated my refusal several more times, and he finally stopped asking.  Toward the end of our visit, Fynn was getting quite hyper and destructive, Ewan was getting hyper, and at one moment at the end of my rope, I said, "Okay, we're leaving, you two are..."  I was planning on saying "driving me crazy" or something like that, when Ewan turned to me.  

"Starving?" he suggested.

Amateur photographer, mud pies, and crazy people

*Note* I'll have you know that I am this close to throwing my computer through the window because it will not properly publish my font. Everything is all squinched together. Pardon the strain on your eyes, and also my cussing, which maybe you didn't hear, but trust me, it happened.

Ewan is currently ground from any video or computer games. Today, as a substitute, he decided to take some pictures. Usually he takes pictures of the wall or a box of crackers, but today he actually got some good shots of Fynn. Later in the day, he wanted to dig for worms, but our neighbors lovely pit bulls were trying to climb the fence to eat our dog, so we decided to go play in our side yard instead. And it was a total MUD PIT! So naturally we took our shoes off and had a grand old time. Well, except for Fynn, he didn't like the feeling of the mud so much, so he steered clear.

Taken by Ewan while playing Door Peekaboo

Those big, soulful eyes are full of tears because I was on an important phone call and had put him down because he was screaming in my ear. Also taken by Ewan.

Sitting in the mud pit.

Standing in the mud pit.

He got much dirtier after this one.

Tonight we went to the ball game with the Saunders, Bowers, Kirchmanns, Grimmetts and Grundbergs. That was a lot of fun, and the kids did really well. (Again, I'll be stealing pictures from the other people present, so those will come later.) The only dark spot on the whole evening was the bat*%$! crazy woman who sat next to us. All the kids were pretty much communal property among all of us families, the whole "it takes a village" thing, and Ewan and Natalie were sitting in two chairs next to me. Some young couple wandered over the the seats next to them, and at first I thought this lady was just overly friendly as she started chitchatting with the kids. A little annoying, but nothing compared to when I looked over and she was giving them cotton candy! Now, I don't care if my child has cotton candy, we were going to buy some for him, but where on Earth did this lady hear it was okay to offer someone else's children, that you don't know, candy? I was very aggravated, but was trying to be nice, so I just thanked her. And she continued with the questions, working her way to asking them their names. Bryce and I were both getting very uncomfortable, but nothing prepared me for when she started TICKLING MY SON. Seriously. Tickling him. Um, yeah, don't touch my kid. So I start figuring out in my head how I'm going to lure him away, when that woman pulled out a camera and was taking pictures of both of them. That was the final straw, and I had to work up my courage to get them away NOW. Luckily, Natalie saw Bella and wanted to be with her, so that worked out. But I had to physically pick Ewan up and put him in my lap to get him away from her. She and her companion apparently got the hint, because they immediately left and went back to whatever hole they came from. But seriously, how many grossly inappropriate things was she going to work into a ten minute period? So we had to have the talk with Ewan that even though strangers may seem nice, we just don't know, and that all the things she was doing were not appropriate. I am mad at myself, though, because I should have immediately said, "Please don't tickle him." The cotton candy thing I could have overlooked, because we were right there, and she was eating it as well, but the rest was so far over the line, and I hate that I even hesitated to offend her. But I finally did, and I know Natalie also got a good lecture from her mother about it once I told her what happened. It's a lesson to be learned by me to stop caring about offending other people.

Garden of Children

I'll have to post pictures of this later, since I couldn't find my camera and have to mooch pictures off of Shannon again.  (Thanks, Shannon!)  But today Ewan had his preschool program, as well as Natalie, and it was cheesy and goofy and the cutest thing I've ever seen.  I just couldn't believe I had a KID up there, singing songs and performing.  I mean, what happened to Ewan the baby?  And all the kids lined up were so stinkin' cute that I wanted to get a giant ball and do some Preschooler Bowling.

Run like the wind

For Ewan's preschool the other day, as a wrap-up party for the Alphabet, they were to go dressed as a letter of the alphabet. Now, I'm not creative, not even a little bit when it comes to things like costumes and such. My brilliant idea was to get an old white t-shirt and write W words all over it. He originally wanted to be the letter Z, but Mr. Z supposedly is covered in zippers. If I sewed, and if I wasn't a procrastinator, I would have gone and bought a jillion zippers and covered an outfit with them. As it stands, I ended up having to call Ashley for a lightning bolt idea. And in under 30 seconds, she had one. (She's so good at that!) She said, brown pants, blue shirt, blue "cape" (i.e. baby blanket) and he would be Mr. W as The Wind. He loved the idea and even managed to keep his cape on throughout all of preschool.
Last night's baseball game was a raging success, although the immediate aftermath was a little dramatic. I had told Bryce to bring me back one of those awesoem ballpark hotdogs, so he did. I guess at some point in the car, Ewan squished it a little, and Bryce told him that it was mine, and that wasn't nice. Ewan began to worry a little. When I opened the door, he looked fine, and told me, "I accidentally squished your hot dog." He looked so worried, which prompted me to exclaim a little too loudly, "Oh, honey, that's OK!" Well, he started wailing. And wailing. I've never heard anything like it, it sounded like Marley's ghost moaning through a megaphone. He told me, "I don't like squishing other people's food!" It was so bad it took us thirty minutes to get him calmed down and into bed. He was just so tired. But I laid down with him before he fell asleep, and he told me about all these people he met. He was especially excited that he met a Canadian. For months, Bryce has told him about how Canadians talk funny, especially how they say "soory." One day he even talked for an hour describing to us different ways Canadians say various words. It was hilarious. Truck was something "trubaskado." Bryce had painted such a funny picture in his head that Ewan didn't realize Canadians are people. He has referred to them as Canadian aliens, or some sort of animal. So for him to meet a Canadian and see he was actually a human being, well, it was a big moment.

Uncle Troy, Ewan, Bryce

T-ball

Uncle Troy

Mmmm... Coke.

Report Card

Ewan had his four year check-up today.  Aside from a serious panic-attack on his part regarding shots, in which he screamed at the top of his lungs and it took me and two nurses to hold him down, it went really well.  The nurse was very impressed because she couldn't trick him on his hearing test, his eyes were perfect, and he's in the 95th percentile for his height.  The only drawback is that he is slightly anemic, which isn't that big of a surprise, because ever since his long bought of fevers a few months ago, his appetite has been very poor.  He barely picks at his meals and declares himself full after eating less than half.  But I had a good talk with him today about it, and he ate all of his dinner tonight and was asking for more.  The doctor also said anemia is fairly common when they are big like him.  It's like he's growing faster than he can keep up with.

Fynn is finally trying out some words.  He says mommy, daddy, cracker, diaper, dog, and cookie.  There's something else in there I'm forgetting...  Everything with him is so good right now, and he's growing so fast.  The only problem right now is that his rash has spread over his entire body.  Bryce and I had the idea that maybe he was allergic to milk, so we only gave him soy milk for a couple of days, but then we got lazy.  The two days he was off of the milk, his nose stopped running (which it has done chronically for several months), and the rash on his face wasn't nearly as bad.  But we didn't really notice how much until the third day when we gave him milk again.  Within hours, his face looked like hamburger meat and his nose was running like a faucet again.  So, we're pretty sure it's a milk allergy.  It makes since, since he's had the rash for nearly three months, starting when he was 13 months old, which was around the time I weaned him and put him on cow's milk.  Now we're experimenting again, two days off milk and his face looks much better.  I'm keeping his appointment with the dermatologist for now, though, and we'll see what happens.  If this is 100% a milk allergy, my entire manner of cooking and eating has to change.  And I'm so lazy about that stuff, it's going to be very hard.  Milk is in EVERYTHING.

As I'm sure you can tell, I just haven't been into the blogging lately.  I feel like any humor I had in it is gone, motivation is kaput, and I don't even enjoy being on the computer as much lately.  Those of you with blogs may have noticed I don't comment as much, or as often.  I'm just not on very much anymore.  I'm contemplating deleting this blog, but I am not sure.  I won't do it before I've printed everything out.  I'll keep you posted, if you are interested.   

Ewan reads Thomas

Bryce and I could listen to this for hours.

A rash of bad luck...

About two months ago, Fynn sprouted a tiny little rash next to his nose. I didn't think much of it, maybe some dry skin, so I wasn't too bothered. But then it started to spread, and get angrier. We held off until his 15 month checkup, where we were told it was impetigo. The doctor prescribed a very mild oral antibiotic, and said to call her in ten days if it didn't improve. Well, it did improve, for about four days, when it came back even worse. The doctor then gave him a much stronger antibiotic, one that smelled like a dirty pair of underwear and gave him the worst diaper rash he's ever had. It did, however, make his rash a bit better. For about five days. So now I have to take him to a pediatric dermatologist, one that doesn't have an open appointment for another month. I'm so frustrated, and need to try to figure something out. Today was Fynn's first day in a month that he has been off of any antibiotic, and in just 24 hours, the rash has gotten twice as bad. What's he going to look like in a month?! If you have a strong stomach, check out these image results of impetigo. While Fynn's isn't anywhere near as bad as most of these, that's also because he's been under some treatment. I'm nervous about what will develop after a month of no treatment. This may be a bit of a rambling post, but I'm so sad for Fynn, who seems to have been born under an unlucky star. He has had more extremely high fevers in his 15 months that Ewan has had in four years, he's had his leg broken, a pressure sore developed, bad reactions to vaccines... The list goes on. When is the poor boy going to get a break? And me, too?

On a lighter note, here are some cute pictures of the man in question:
Ewan told me, "Fynn's thinks he's eating spaghetti!" When I went into the room, he had a mouthful of yellow yarn. Unfortunately, once I had the camera, he refused to look at me, but he was very proud of himself, and I thought it was funny that Ewan thought of spaghetti.

"I can eat yogurt by myself, thank you very much."

Thanks to Grace for these cute pictures she took at lunch last week. I love this coy look of Fynn's.

And, as mentioned before, this is Ewan's current signature look.

"What a week I'm having!"

That line is from Splash, when Eugene Levy has been through a week of broken limbs, being hosed down in the street, and falling down stairs. He says it with the best whine, I can totally hear it now, and it perfectly captures how I'm feeling. I love that movie. Have I ever told you about my love affair for Tom Hanks? Another time, then.

Let's start with the fact that for three weeks, one of my kids has been sick. Two weeks ago, Fynn spent nearly five days with a fever up in the 103s. I finally got him all better, in time for Ewan's birthday party, when Ewan popped up with a high fever the following Tuesday. As of this Monday, his fever hadn't even started to get better, so off to the doctor we went, and she determined he did actually need antibiotics. But it took three days before they started to show effectiveness, three days of Ewan having screaming, crying panic attacks because he couldn't breathe and because his fever was so high. Fynn's well-baby checkup was on Wednesday, and he was vaccinated. I've never had trouble with their vaccinations before, but last night, Fynn had a 104.2 fever. Now, I'm usually pretty cool and collected about illness, but fevers make me completely panic. Not to mention one that is 104.2. So while he was getting love and cold water from Daddy, I was doing some research online (not a good idea in this case) and I the first website I found had hundred of accounts from parents whose children had received the very shot Fynn received. Accounts of very high fevers. Seizures. Autism. Death. I went into the bedroom and said, "You will give that baby a blessing RIGHT NOW." He did, and I was completely astonished at how quickly that fever cleared up. It was like a magic wand had been waved. I've never had such a faith reaffirming experience in my entire life. He still has a fever today, but not nearly as high, and hopefully it will clear soon. So after having spent three days this week at Target pharmacy, hopefully we'll all finally be well at the same time.

I have to interject here to say that in the middle of typing this, Fynn was done with his lunch, so I walked over to him to take him out of the highchair, bumped into one of my very pretty plates hanging on my wall and it broke (one with sentimental value that I've had for ten years.) Just thought you should know.

Last night, we received some extremely distressing news about members of our family, which I won't go into, but it's not good, so there's that. Besides the illness, family problems and broken plates - on Wednesday I got into the car to go pay for Ewan's preschool, and the battery was dead. Bryce hasn't gotten home early enough to fix it yet this week, so I've been driving his car. After discovering this morning we were out of bread, I decided to do the weekly grocery trip. Kids all strapped in, halfway down the street, I realize I'm driving on a completely flat tire. In fact, driving on the rim. (But I have an awesome mother-in-law, who immediately came and sat with the kids so I could take her car. Thanks, Mary Ann!) Thursday Ewan threw a royal fit and refused to go into preschool, which resulted in us sitting in the parking lot for nearly half an hour because neither one of us would back down. I did finally win, after several times threatening to dismantle all electronic fun-ness out of the house.

Yucky sidenotes:  my dog peed on the rug, 3/4 of the way into the book I've been reading all week, I realized it actually stinks and can't finish it, and the news about the pregnant man was all over everything.  Ensuring that if I don't have morning sickness, I'll still be nauseated.

Forgive me for being a downer, because I will end on good notes - we got good news about the pregnancy, Ewan is finally better, the sun is shining, my testimony in blessing was strengthened, Mary Ann rocks, and I have eggrolls and Coke in my fridge. And it's FRIDAY. Things are looking up.

Daddy's got a new tax deduction

For those of you who have not caught on, I am expecting another baby in November.  I haven't made any official announcement until now because I was waiting to see the doctor to make sure all is well.  And it is.  I had three miscarriages between Ewan and Fynn, so I've been pretty pessimistic and nervous.  This morning at the doctor, I was sure I was going to throw up from nervousness.  But everything looks beautiful, and Ewan is especially excited.  He swears it's going to be a girl, won't accept that it could be the other option.  I'm a little more worried about how Fynn will take it, as he gets very upset if I even love on Ewan.  It should be interesting!

Bragging rights

Okay, so I try not to brag.  I like to tell about how my sons are growing and learning, and how beautiful I think they are.  I mean, everyone thinks their kids are smart and beautiful, and not everyone necessarily wants to hear another parent going on and on and on about said beauty and smarts.  But I was actually astonished by something Ewan did today, and I really wanted to share.  Technically, I'm bragging on his behalf, because it's certainly not my accomplishment.   He has been practicing sounding words out for a while now, and we'll be in the store, and he'll randomly tell me what package says, or the title of a book.  Usually pretty easy words.  And lately, he's been "reading" some of his Thomas books to me, but it's 99.9% memorization.  I've been curious how much he was actually reading, versus memorizing, but he's heard all of his books so much, it was hard to tell.  Well, we got five free books off of a cereal box offer, and up until today, he wasn't interested in having them read to him at all.  Tonight he picked one of them as part of his usual three bedtime stories.  First I was reading to Fynn, while Ewan sat quietly looking at his books.  Keep in mind, I have NEVER read this book to him, it's called Things that are Most in the World.  I looked over from my perch with Fynn, and Ewan was READING that book.  Really reading it.  He got stuck on a few of the bigger, strange words (like "teensie-weensiest) but otherwise he read that book all to himself.  I almost fell out of my chair.  We showed him long ago how to sound things out, almost on a whim, and not expecting him to catch on yet, and haven't worked with him much otherwise.  This is something he has largely taught himself.  I am so proud of him, and it literally made my day.  

Birthday party

Okay, so this totally has nothing to do with this post, but I had to share. I'm sitting here at the desk, on which sit two of our fishbowls. I kept hearing a very light "tap, tap" on glass. I look up to finally see one of my fish, the one we call Stuart, tapping its mouth on the glass in my direction. Over and over again, and loud enough that I'd swear he had teeth. Then it would stop and stare at me. I usually feed them at night, so I suppose he was impatient. Now that's he's fed, he's swimming around happily. Cool. He communicates.

Okay, to get off of that tangent, today was Ewan's birthday party, and he had a really good turnout. He had lots of friends and family over, and received a king's ransom of Thomas the Tank Engine stuff. I kind of feel bad, because Fynn was totally shafted on his birthday - I didn't plan the party well enough among other things. I know he's only one and doesn't know the difference, but it's the principle of the thing. Next birthday for him is gonna be AWESOME. Thanks to everyone who came and showed Ewan so much love. We appreciate all of you and you made it such a wonderful day for him. Anyway, after the party, Ewan and I went on a date to see Horton Hears a Who. We had a lot of fun, and here are some pictures from the party. (I did have some more cute ones of his other friends, but wasn't sure if their mothers would want me publishing their pictures on here. So I'll e-mail some to those moms whose kids were there.)
Playing with his cousins, Hayden and Chloe, whose hair looked totally red in all the pictures by the way. (I'll send them to you, Ashley.)

The cake. Ewan loves when they crash, so I made it crash in the chocolate. The effect was especially genuine seeing as I actually dropped it into the cake.

He was so excited about "Mighty Mac."

Pizza, picnic style. The kids had a blast just running around and being free on this gorgeous day.

Mom?

Things I've been horrified to hear coming out of my mouth since Ewan started preschool:

1.  "HOP UP!  You don't want to be late for school!"

2.  "Tell me what you want for breakfast, I'm not sending you to school without food in your belly."

3.  "You are NOT wearing THAT to preschool."

Confessions of a harried, sleepy mommy

I'm feeling a bit ornery and irreverent tonight. It's been an interesting 24 hours for me, the details of which I'll spare you. Because, trust me, it's NOT interesting.

We started our day by going to story-time at the library. Ewan loves it, although he does get a little overwhelmed at times by the very loud zeal with which the librarian, a man, reads the stories. He particularly is intimidated by the stuffed iguana puppet that Mr. Bob takes around the room to nibble on the fingers of the wee ones. Today we were running late, and I got myself a bit frazzled trying to get the kids out the door on time. So when we had stepped three steps into the children's section in the library and Ewan refused to go one step more, I was more than a little perturbed. I tried gentle, loving persuasion at first, but when that didn't work, I resorted to idle threats. "Ewan," I said, oh so calmly through my teeth, "if you decide to go home right now, and this was a wasted trip, I will never, ever again bring you to story-time. No matter how much you ask me or beg me, we won't ever come again." To which he grabbed my hand, walked to the staging area, and a grand time was had by all. Especially the very loud Mr. Bob.

Afterward, because Fynn's hair grows at warp speed and is so thick that I've been considering auditioning him for a Pantene commercial, I took him for a hair cut. The lady who cut his hair was seriously one of the nicest people I have ever met. So we had a nice chat while she cut his hair and I casually debated internally over her sexual orientation.

Then we went to McDonald's. (Yes, Bryce, we did. We really did.) And on to Sarah's for some spur-of-the-moment chatting. When we came home, I was so pooped (sleep deprivation due to this awful bug I can't quite shake...) I went into a vegetative state on the couch. I was excited when Fynn discovered the box of leftover chicken nuggets in my purse because it meant he would be occupied. For the rest of the night, I've found random pieces of chicken nuggets around the house, including one fully intact that came spilling out of my purse while I was digging for change. (For what else but a Coke?) Add to the nuggets the chunk of waffle Fynn carried around for an hour after my lazy breakfast-for-dinner, and the dog had quite a feast to Hoover up when I let her in.

Just felt like sharing.

My heart walking outside of my body

Last week I enrolled Ewan in a real, live preschool.  He will be attending twice a week for three hours.  I did this because he is so bright, and because he seems to be completely bored out of his mind here at home with me.  He plays better by himself than ever, often inventing, narrating and acting out Thomas the Tank Engine stories with the few trains he has, but he still gets very bored. I wanted him to be around some different kids close to his own age, and have some structured activities and learning experiences.  We were participating in a "co-op" preschool with some mothers in the ward that met once a week.  That worked really well for awhile, but lately it just hasn't been panning out as well, and I felt Ewan needed more of a classroom setting.  Today was his first day, and can I tell you how strange it felt to leave him there? Just the oddest, unusual feeling.  And there was a minor battle with the teacher about whether or not he should be in the four-year-old class.  He turns four on the 20th, and I know all moms say this, but he really is very smart and is beyond anything they would do in a 3-year-old class.  After a little back-and-forth between the teacher and I, she agreed to try it for one day.  He was ecstatic to go, and ecstatic to have me leave.  I've just never left him with anyone other than a babysitter I trusted as much as myself.  It helped that Natalie was there, and that I watched Shannon leave her, so I know everything is okay.  But still, it was just surreal and kind of sad.  Like I'm pushing him out into the real world.  I know, I know, I am totally melodramatic.  

I have rare time to myself because Bryce took Fynn to his follow-up appointment with the orthopedist in Fort Worth.  So I think I will curl up with a good book and perhaps some Coke.  (At 9 in the morning?!  Not really, but I thought about it.)  But first I think it's time to go have a good cry.

No title will do this justice...

This may not mean anything to most of you, but it certainly means a lot to me.  For a little background, I began writing little stories from the moment I could print.  I even have a story somewhere that looks like Egyptian hieroglyphs because the print is so poor.  It's about a farmer who can't find the pig to make his bacon for breakfast, and after a frantic hunt around the farm, decides he'll just have pancakes instead.  (Apparently I wanted to be a part of PETA when I grew up.)  My grandmother in particular was very supportive of my desire to write, buying me scrapbooks in which to keep my stories.  One of my big regrets is that thus far in my life, I haven't fulfilled her dream for me, and my dream for myself.  I am still in the midst of the longest bout of writer's block ever, as I say often.  

Recently, Ewan will start talking nonstop; usually it's a story about Thomas the Tank Engine. The plots will get pretty complex, and so I'll ask him where he saw the episode or the book that the story came from.  Several times he has told me, "Nowhere, I made it up."  Then yesterday I had the movie "Becoming Jane," which I was going to watch later, and he asked me what it was about.  I told him it was about a lady who wrote stories.  I further explained, "All the stories I read to you, someone made those up in their head and wrote them down for all of us to listen to."  His face lit up, and he became very excited.  And then he told me, "That's what I would like, to be a writer."  My heart went all pitter-pat, then lodged itself in my throat as I told him, "I would love that."

He's just never expressed any thoughts or desires about what he would someday like to be, and the look on his face showed me he was very serious, and very excited that that was something he could actually do.  And I believe someday he will.

A balanced diet

Doughnuts in our house are a rarity. I think I can count on one hand the number of times we have gone in our five years of marriage. (I mean, I know I drink a lot of Coke, but something about doughnuts... the sugar, the fat... while tasty... ick.) So when Bryce came home with a $25 Krispy Kreme gift card they gave him at work, I decided to take the boys for breakfast this morning. There was one left on the table in the box, and I thought it was safe out of reach. I left the room for a minute, and came back to find this:

Then this:


It was every so slightly reminiscent of this last picture. When we very first moved into our house, our oven didn't work for a month, and we were living on take-out and T.V. dinners. Our new neighbor had bestowed upon us a caramel-apple-pie-cheesecake, which we discovered Ewan devouring. He was only 18 months old and he'd gotten the fork himself, and was being very resourceful and serious about his endeavor: