<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694</id><updated>2011-07-08T02:39:27.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maxers</title><subtitle type='html'>The boy who loves to live.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>30</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-1000433731957379099</id><published>2010-09-12T21:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T22:10:23.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Zero Fusses</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2vw4t8XZI/AAAAAAAAAF8/SRvRJeD351Y/s1600/maxposer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2vw4t8XZI/AAAAAAAAAF8/SRvRJeD351Y/s400/maxposer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516258372992392594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a ham!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This kid loves the camera and loves taking pictures or getting his picture taken.&lt;span style=""&gt;  He will ask to get his picture taken and strike a silly pose.  And I'm seeing a trend of wearing his favorite blue shirt.  I love it!!!  &lt;/span&gt;He started preschool a few weeks ago.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was so nervous that it would be such a hassle and struggle to even get him to go.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He has such a hard time with sunbeams that I anticipated the same fight.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;His first day went better than I expected (only one fight w/ another little kid that didn’t want to clean up when Max wanted to).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And now the first thing he says when I pick him up is, “Mom, I went to preschool with NO FUSS!”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Or I’ll ask him how his day was and he’ll say, “I had ZERO FUSSES”.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He absolutely loves it and is excited to go and learn.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He loves his teachers and I think it makes him feel like he has his own thing instead of just following in Lukas’ shadow.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He wants so much to do what Lukas does and now he finally gets his chance.&lt;span style=""&gt; I couldn't be more proud.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He LOVES Scooby Doo.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Every day I hear, “Mom, do you want to play Scooby Doo?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ll be Shaggy and you be Scooby.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now say, ‘Ruh Roh Raggy, I’m rungry’.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And I have to talk in the Scooby voice until he says “pause” then I get a few seconds of a break and he’ll “unpause” so we can finish playing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I must say it gets old quick, but if it keeps him happy I’ll gladly oblige .&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Funny things he says or does:  One Sunday Pat was helping to pass the sacrament.  Max noticed and said rather loudly to Lukas, "Look, Daddy's at the food table!!!" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He recently discovered hand sanitizer.  I got him his own little one to put in his backpack for school.  Now he gets it out and uses it all the time because he "touched something dirty."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We will be playing and he'll think something is so funny, so he'll say, "Mom, you're crackin' my brain."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2vTbonD0I/AAAAAAAAAFU/ZxAZuv_HCpA/s1600/cutemax.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 253px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2vTbonD0I/AAAAAAAAAFU/ZxAZuv_HCpA/s400/cutemax.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516257866969190210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2vTgGccyI/AAAAAAAAAFc/DuuwiIO3TZg/s1600/manyfacesofmax.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 276px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2vTgGccyI/AAAAAAAAAFc/DuuwiIO3TZg/s400/manyfacesofmax.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516257868168065826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2vUhSmapI/AAAAAAAAAFs/Carcmy0OmZs/s1600/maxplayground.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2vUhSmapI/AAAAAAAAAFs/Carcmy0OmZs/s400/maxplayground.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516257885667355282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2vVJBFmxI/AAAAAAAAAF0/FJyntcMpODA/s1600/maxsandcastle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2vVJBFmxI/AAAAAAAAAF0/FJyntcMpODA/s400/maxsandcastle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516257896331320082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2vUJbKTQI/AAAAAAAAAFk/ar2szI8pFzo/s1600/maxbike.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 285px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2vUJbKTQI/AAAAAAAAAFk/ar2szI8pFzo/s400/maxbike.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516257879260810498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-1000433731957379099?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/1000433731957379099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=1000433731957379099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/1000433731957379099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/1000433731957379099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2010/09/zero-fusses.html' title='Zero Fusses'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2vw4t8XZI/AAAAAAAAAF8/SRvRJeD351Y/s72-c/maxposer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-4860962630028303465</id><published>2010-08-30T22:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T22:07:05.894-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of Tiny Sprouts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2xJ5yDCXI/AAAAAAAAAGM/aqMvXNtcX-w/s1600/maxpreschool.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2xJ5yDCXI/AAAAAAAAAGM/aqMvXNtcX-w/s400/maxpreschool.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516259902286399858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Max had his first day of preschool today.  Lucky for him (and me) his teacher is one of my dearest friends that I roomed with at Ricks (Brendy).  I thought it would be such a struggle for him and that I'd have to fight him tooth and nail to get him to agree to go and then behave.  I envisioned kicking, screaming, whining, begging, bribing.  And really all I had to do was tell him that he was going to preschool and the rest was easy!  He got dressed, got his back pack, grabbed some milk (his staple) and was ready to go!!  It was truly a miracle.  I'm so happy and thrilled.  I thought for sure I was going to get a phone call half way through saying he was hitting other kids and losing control.  On the contrary, he behaved himself and did totally awesome.  I cried tears of joy that day.  Maxers is growing up.  &lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-4860962630028303465?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/4860962630028303465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=4860962630028303465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/4860962630028303465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/4860962630028303465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2010/08/first-day-of-tiny-sprouts.html' title='First Day of Tiny Sprouts'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TI2xJ5yDCXI/AAAAAAAAAGM/aqMvXNtcX-w/s72-c/maxpreschool.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-8393812745904817728</id><published>2010-08-09T00:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T00:43:19.979-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Max at 3 1/2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TF-xhgnoKxI/AAAAAAAAAFE/-B2aMgGkQxw/s1600/ouchmax.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503312458919979794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TF-xhgnoKxI/AAAAAAAAAFE/-B2aMgGkQxw/s400/ouchmax.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Holy Cow, am I really posting another picture of Max with an owie? This kid has had more bumps and bruises than any other kid I know. We had a neighborhood BBQ outside and Max took a nasty spill while being pushed on a play car. It was bad. No stitches though, but very puffy and a very black eye. He got tired of people asking what happened to him and gets very grumpy when you say anything about it. Stinker. We are really working with him on how to be nice to people (he gets very shy) and being social. He usually ends up playing with Lukas and his friends and so he doesn't have any friends of his own. He still will not go to Primary and sits with me and goes to class with me. I don't know what to do to help him. He will start preschool in awhile, so we'll see how he does there. Despite his social problems, he is the sweetest, cutest boy. He loves to say, "Mom, do you want to cuddle with me?" "Can we have some you and me time?" "Of course I will." "Oh, don't worry Mom, I won't." He absolutely LOVES watching any and all Scooby Doo movies. He likes to dress up with Lukas (Robin is his favorite) and he is so good riding his big wheel. He will turn on the hose every time he goes outside, despite me telling him not to. He likes to build "sand sculptures" in the sandbox. He LOVES milk and says, "Do you mind getting me some milk?" to which I respond, "Sure as long as you go potty first." And he runs off with a smile. He wants so much to be big like Lukas. It will be so good for him to start preschool. He is a softie that just needs a little TLC to smooth his rough edges. He really has a tender heart and if you get upset with him or tell him something that he doesn't like, he'll start to cry and say, "Don't be mean to me." It's hard to not get mad at this little guy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-8393812745904817728?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/8393812745904817728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=8393812745904817728' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/8393812745904817728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/8393812745904817728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2010/08/mr-max-at-3-12.html' title='Mr. Max at 3 1/2'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TF-xhgnoKxI/AAAAAAAAAFE/-B2aMgGkQxw/s72-c/ouchmax.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-7030193558367305437</id><published>2010-07-21T15:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T15:29:49.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fight Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdzqY4QyII/AAAAAAAAAE8/6ovw7lpnvpM/s1600/maxblackeye.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdzqY4QyII/AAAAAAAAAE8/6ovw7lpnvpM/s320/maxblackeye.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496489042299111554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Max and Lukas fight like brothers!  This time it got physical.  Lukas gave Max a black eye. {Lukas had the Buzz wings on and Max did something to make him mad so he swung the wings around and hit Max right in the eye. Ouch!}  I don't know how to make them get a long, so I made them go to their room together until they were friends again.  They were in there for awhile, and pretty soon they were playing and having fun together.  Just like me and my brother.  How funny that we do just what our parents used to.  {And Max had an Airbender tatoo to make him feel better.} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;On another note:  Max has a sweet tooth...I wonder where on earth he got that from??  I will find him eating frosting, cookie dough and any candy that is laying around.  His favorite is Swedish Fish or Starburst or Rolos.  His teeth are going to fall out. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Max will dress himself and everything ends up backwards, including his underwear.  Silly kid.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;He LOVES Zoey.  He is so sweet to her and will whisper in her ear "I love you sister."  She is lucky to have him!  He will kiss her and hug her and sing her songs in the car.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This kid is an night owl like me.  He will stay up late (11 p.m. some nights) and sleep in until 10:30 or 11!  And there is nothing you can do to get him up before then either. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I was practicing flash cards with Max and he knows ALL his colors (except pink which he calls purple).  And he knows a lot of his shapes.  He is ready for preschool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-7030193558367305437?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/7030193558367305437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=7030193558367305437' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/7030193558367305437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/7030193558367305437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2010/07/fight-night.html' title='Fight Night'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdzqY4QyII/AAAAAAAAAE8/6ovw7lpnvpM/s72-c/maxblackeye.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-3443224049103635988</id><published>2010-07-21T15:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T15:18:33.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Photographer</title><content type='html'>Max is getting good with the camera.  He borrowed it from me to take these pictures...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdx1DtMkFI/AAAAAAAAAEs/b35tHK2jik4/s1600/zpeu.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdx1DtMkFI/AAAAAAAAAEs/b35tHK2jik4/s320/zpeu.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496487026570858578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdxzqRA2cI/AAAAAAAAAEM/G21Zvy3KAHk/s1600/candy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdxzqRA2cI/AAAAAAAAAEM/G21Zvy3KAHk/s320/candy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496487002561894850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdyIuJOLDI/AAAAAAAAAE0/e1AgaAHQwxE/s1600/janece.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdyIuJOLDI/AAAAAAAAAE0/e1AgaAHQwxE/s320/janece.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496487364380208178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdx0g8PXdI/AAAAAAAAAEk/FNIsMeezi3o/s1600/wolfie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdx0g8PXdI/AAAAAAAAAEk/FNIsMeezi3o/s320/wolfie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496487017238715858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdxz_cl3cI/AAAAAAAAAEU/xfo30EYzyU8/s1600/lukas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdxz_cl3cI/AAAAAAAAAEU/xfo30EYzyU8/s320/lukas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496487008247602626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdx0MRQXmI/AAAAAAAAAEc/htgQBiEjIQw/s1600/pat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdx0MRQXmI/AAAAAAAAAEc/htgQBiEjIQw/s320/pat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496487011689717346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-3443224049103635988?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/3443224049103635988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=3443224049103635988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/3443224049103635988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/3443224049103635988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2010/07/mr-photographer.html' title='Mr. Photographer'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/TEdx1DtMkFI/AAAAAAAAAEs/b35tHK2jik4/s72-c/zpeu.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-1484273391068753289</id><published>2010-04-23T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T11:47:58.367-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Maxers</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/S9HqhM0k7oI/AAAAAAAAADo/TXUd37z6Sec/s1600/soccerbros.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; 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	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-priority:99; 	mso-style-qformat:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin-top:0in; 	mso-para-margin-right:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	mso-para-margin-left:0in; 	line-height:115%; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;We thought it would be fun to sign Max and Lukas up for a little indoor soccer league.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They are on the same team with all their little neighborhood buddies.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is so fun to watch them play.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They have games on Saturdays and sometimes during the week we’ll go to the church to practice just for fun, so they get the feel of it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Max loves to kick the ball, but gets easily frustrated when the game is going on and the ball isn’t just for him or doesn’t come directly to him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He doesn’t understand why he can’t pick it up with his hands either.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He is doing so well just showing up for the game in his little jersey, so I’m thrilled!!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He sits out most of the game and pouts, but there are times when he’ll go in and run after the ball (only to be frustrated that it’s not coming to him).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;His coach is so cute with him (our next door neighbor, Holden’s daddy).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He’ll hold his hand and help him chase the ball.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Max’s new word is “dude”.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Every toy or action figure is a dude.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;He has recently started having accidents again.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Just when I thought we were doing so well and he was getting so big.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He’s regressing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe it’s the baby coming??&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I just don’t know.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;He drinks so much milk.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I could just hook him up to an IV with&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;milk and he’d be happy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;When he wants me to say something, he’ll tell me what to say.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;“Mom, can I have milk?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Say, ‘Sure’”. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;He asks me every day if I’ll play army dudes or Batman &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;or ninja with him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He loves to pretend and play boy things. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;He has a hard time in social situations, but is slowly getting better.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If I don’t make a big deal about it, he does better and if he’s ignored (by others) it is better, too.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Primary has been hard.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He doesn’t want to sit with his teach or class and usually throws a fit if I force him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I teach a class myself, so it’s hard to have him sit with me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This Sunday he decided on his own that he was going to sit with his class and he did for ALL of sharing/singing time!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was so proud of him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I overheard Max say, “What the hell?”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;the other day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Looks like someone needs to watch their language around the kids.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oops. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Max loves to twirl around and get dizzy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He’ll laugh and say, “Mom, I feel busy”.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you ask Max what he wants to do he’ll say, “Play a game.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He loves to play tic tac toe or our “Horton” game or connect 4.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He’ll go to the game closet and pick a game to play and he’s actually pretty good. Max always asks if I want to play a game with him and I tell him that I am tired, so he says, “We can play a resting game.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And he’ll always bring it to the couch and we can sit there together and play it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wolfie recently went to the vet to get neutered and had to wear a big plastic cone for a week.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Max always felt so sorry for him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When we could finally take it off Max kept saying, “I’m so happy Wolfie has his comb off.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He really has grown to love Wolfie.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He pets him and tries to do tricks with him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Me- “Max, why did you pee your pants?”  Max- “Because I just couldn’t stand it.”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;      &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;Max wakes up happy all the time and is generally in a good mood in the morning.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;He came up to me the other day and said, “Mom, I have something for you.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then he proceeded to give me a big hug.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then he said, “I have something else you’ll like.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And he gave me a kiss.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;SO CUTE.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He is always checking for Zoey's umbilical cord.  He'll ask, "Mom, what is that...her extension cord?"&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/S9HqlxWZw1I/AAAAAAAAADw/qdZ-Lmo49YQ/s1600/soccerteam.jpg"&gt;  &lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 219px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/S9HqlxWZw1I/AAAAAAAAADw/qdZ-Lmo49YQ/s320/soccerteam.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463405757600482130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/S9HrCT3twfI/AAAAAAAAAD4/4AptC_kyyX0/s1600/maxandzoe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/S9HrCT3twfI/AAAAAAAAAD4/4AptC_kyyX0/s320/maxandzoe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463406247903347186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/S9HrDOFi22I/AAAAAAAAAEA/qon4LQBVAYk/s1600/april+002.jpg"&gt; &lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/S9HrDOFi22I/AAAAAAAAAEA/qon4LQBVAYk/s320/april+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463406263530609506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-1484273391068753289?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/1484273391068753289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=1484273391068753289' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/1484273391068753289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/1484273391068753289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2010/04/more-maxers.html' title='More Maxers'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/S9HqhM0k7oI/AAAAAAAAADo/TXUd37z6Sec/s72-c/soccerbros.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-7477478147644219909</id><published>2010-01-17T17:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T17:42:10.352-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Max at 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/S1O8UcN0EVI/AAAAAAAAADg/G-oQp3MiIbk/s1600-h/max.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/S1O8UcN0EVI/AAAAAAAAADg/G-oQp3MiIbk/s320/max.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427889035269116242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Max is getting so big and talking so much.  His mind is really working things out and trying to figure out life.   I can't believe he's 3.  I love to listen to his voice and all the things he schemes up.  He still melts my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;He loves to snuggle with me.  I'll lay on the couch and he'll come lay his head on the pillow and cover himself up.  He asks me to "scoop over" for him.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Every morning he wakes up fairly happy and asks for milk and dinner.  (Which really he means breakfast).  So I ask him what he wants to eat and every time he says, "I want eggs and bacon and toast and noodles."  But when I do make him eggs, they just sit there, so I just fill up the milk and he's happy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He still says "W's" for his "R's".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He wants to be big.  He wants so badly to go to preschool and be in karate and do what Lukas does.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He loves to say, "What the heck!"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He has such a hard time going to play group and his primary class.  When people give him attention, he covers his face with his arm and sinks into my lap.  ??&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He is still the biggest trouble maker ever.  He makes messes faster than I can stop him.  And he always blames Lukas.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When he is in trouble for doing something, he'll cover his bum and say, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" for fear that he'll get spanked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When he gets mad, he'll hit, bite, kick, scratch and let you know that he is not happy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He is doing better at sleeping in his bed all night and he'll fall asleep pretty fast every night. Still no naps, though.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If Lukas is getting in trouble, he'll start to cry right along with him.  "No, he's my bludder.  Don't do that to him!"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He likes to sing songs like; Twinkle Twinkle, or Book of Mormon stories, or Christmas songs.  He's so cute with his little voice.  I love it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He loves my "New Moon" and will talk about Jacob and Bella.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He says "Actually" a lot ("Actually, I changed my mind") and "Correct?" (That is Lukas' book, correct?"  I guess it's more like "coe-wect".)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He talks about our baby coming and seems to be excited.  We'll see when she gets here...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Max is obsessed with flashlights.  Anytime he sees one, he'll turn it on and never let it go.  We've been through dozens I'm sure.  I find them later, dead and broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When we're at a store, he'll run under a clothing rack and say, "Mom, say, 'Where's my Max'?"  And then I do and he'll jump out at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;His favorite thing to do is push himself on the office chair through the house.  Up and back up and back.  All day.  It drives me crazy b/c it's so loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-7477478147644219909?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/7477478147644219909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=7477478147644219909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/7477478147644219909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/7477478147644219909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2010/01/max-at-3.html' title='Max at 3'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/S1O8UcN0EVI/AAAAAAAAADg/G-oQp3MiIbk/s72-c/max.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-6171010495410638687</id><published>2009-11-10T13:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T13:20:14.690-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Max Turns 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SwMTglizU1I/AAAAAAAAADY/gUXwo4lHLj8/s1600/bdaymax.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SwMTglizU1I/AAAAAAAAADY/gUXwo4lHLj8/s320/bdaymax.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405185428329550674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had such a fun time with Max's birthday. He wanted a Batman birthday, so we happily obliged. Pat had to work during the day, so I took the boys to lunch at their favorite restaurant ("Red Robin, Yuuuuuummm!") Later, he had a superhero friends party and then a family dinner. He was spoiled with gifts! Mostly he had fun running around being a boy, just what he does best!! &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SwMTTT_pLoI/AAAAAAAAADQ/Jk6JhFS-u-4/s1600/superfriends.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SwMTTT_pLoI/AAAAAAAAADQ/Jk6JhFS-u-4/s320/superfriends.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405185200280383106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SwMTSWHEcoI/AAAAAAAAAC4/FggFtZtMwfE/s1600/bdaycake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SwMTSWHEcoI/AAAAAAAAAC4/FggFtZtMwfE/s320/bdaycake.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405185183668531842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;\&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SwMTTOW4PII/AAAAAAAAADI/jndqOmUt0Ys/s1600/familymax.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SwMTTOW4PII/AAAAAAAAADI/jndqOmUt0Ys/s320/familymax.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405185198767225986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SwMTS2MtfkI/AAAAAAAAADA/8lJ8llDb9Rg/s1600/candle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 228px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SwMTS2MtfkI/AAAAAAAAADA/8lJ8llDb9Rg/s320/candle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405185192282127938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-6171010495410638687?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/6171010495410638687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=6171010495410638687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/6171010495410638687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/6171010495410638687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2009/11/max-turns-3.html' title='Max Turns 3'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SwMTglizU1I/AAAAAAAAADY/gUXwo4lHLj8/s72-c/bdaymax.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-1554100434764218836</id><published>2009-10-19T17:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T17:03:49.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I picked up Max today from a neighbor's house.  I was asking him about what he did and he said, "We played Cops &amp;amp; Rogers.  I was a Roger."  It made me laugh out loud. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz5V8SWsMI/AAAAAAAAACg/N3kRg77AjVU/s1600-h/handcuffs.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz5V8SWsMI/AAAAAAAAACg/N3kRg77AjVU/s400/handcuffs.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394460609038692546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other things Max does that brings a (sometimes) smile to my face:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;He loves his brother.  So much that when Lukas was getting his shots and was freaking out, Max was pushing me away so I couldn't get to Lukas.  He was almost crying saying, "Don't mom, don't hurt my bludder!!"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He has a cute little slur and says his "r"s like "w"s.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I absolutely LOVE his voice and how he talks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He always says, "Guess what?"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He is ALWAYS in trouble (making messes, throwing things, hurting the dog or his brother, not cleaning up his spills, saying potty words)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The first thing he says when he wakes up is, "Good morning Mommy.  Can I have milk with dinner?  I want eggs and milk and bacon."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He has started to sleep ALL night long (which is a miracle, believe me) and stay in his bed until morning!!!  Yipppeeeee!!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He is such a good eater and will try anything (I think just to show off to Lukas who won't try anything.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He has such a good memory.  He remembers things from last year or from months ago.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When he is sad, he pouts, puts his head down and covers his face with his arm.  It's too cute.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He quotes "Nacho Libre" and will say, "Take it eeeasy" or "Good Luck" or "Would you like to join me for toast?"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lukas will ask to borrow something of his and his response is always, "Sure."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He'll ask if he can have or do something and when we say yes, he jumps up and down and says, "thank mom"!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He started going to an all boys playgroup in the neighborhood.  It makes him feel so cool, since Lukas has preschool.  This is his thing!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If we're walking somewhere, he'll go in front of me and say, "Ahh, this is a long walk."  And then lift his arms up so I'll carry him.  Even if it's just to the mail box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-1554100434764218836?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/1554100434764218836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=1554100434764218836' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/1554100434764218836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/1554100434764218836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-picked-up-max-today-from-neighbors.html' title=''/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz5V8SWsMI/AAAAAAAAACg/N3kRg77AjVU/s72-c/handcuffs.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-430926045630330010</id><published>2009-08-28T16:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T16:31:11.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gone Missing!</title><content type='html'>Have you ever had that panic filled moment where one of your kids is truly lost. You can't find them anywhere and you've looked everywhere?? That totally happened to us last week. I thought Max went outside and Pat was outside and said he couldn't find him out there. We were running through the house calling his name, searching everywhere. He never hides from us and he only goes so far, so when he didn't turn up, we were freaking out. Our neighbor Whitney got in her car to drive around the neighborhood. I ran in the house one more time to see if he was in the basement or somewhere I didn't think to look. Here's what I found in the office chair (that was facing the back of us, so I had no way of telling he was in it. The duster gave it away.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz2pd2wmXI/AAAAAAAAACA/Qux5MrT3OLI/s1600-h/sleepingmax.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 325px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz2pd2wmXI/AAAAAAAAACA/Qux5MrT3OLI/s400/sleepingmax.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394457645932386674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-430926045630330010?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/430926045630330010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=430926045630330010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/430926045630330010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/430926045630330010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2009/08/gone-missing.html' title='Gone Missing!'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz2pd2wmXI/AAAAAAAAACA/Qux5MrT3OLI/s72-c/sleepingmax.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-1646876319253911166</id><published>2009-08-17T16:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T16:34:03.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz3RTHieSI/AAAAAAAAACI/OA6ksdfXLhM/s1600-h/max.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz3RTHieSI/AAAAAAAAACI/OA6ksdfXLhM/s400/max.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394458330244741410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just got back from Fish Lake. Pat and Lukas were gone running an errand and I was home with Max. We were relaxing on my bed, watching a movie. I noticed Max had some coins in his mouth and I got after him to take them out. (This is common with him. He is always holding money in his hands.) He was laying down with the coins in his mouth so I reached over to grab them out. As I did, they fell back in his throat and he started choking!!! I was freaking out trying to get him to cough them out. He was gagging, but then started breathing/crying again. I called Pat in a panic to find out what to do. I gave Max some water to drink and he seemed fine, just a little frazzled. When Pat got home we took Max to Insta Care to make sure he would be alright. They took an Xray of his chest and sure enough there was the dime in his tummy. He just had to pass it on it's own and he'd be fine they said. That Max, he gives me gray hairs!!! He did so good at the Dr.'s office and on the Xray table. I guess he's used to doctors by now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-1646876319253911166?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/1646876319253911166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=1646876319253911166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/1646876319253911166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/1646876319253911166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2009/08/we-just-got-back-from-fish-lake.html' title=''/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz3RTHieSI/AAAAAAAAACI/OA6ksdfXLhM/s72-c/max.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-7362789087451361106</id><published>2009-07-28T15:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T16:05:48.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stitches Again!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SndtL_kjHHI/AAAAAAAAAB4/9JV0dw6UTLY/s1600-h/stitches-III.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 354px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SndtL_kjHHI/AAAAAAAAAB4/9JV0dw6UTLY/s400/stitches-III.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365877533845953650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in the garage this morning trying to clean things up.  The kids were outside playing as well.  Max came in the garage and was touching Pat's bike that was hanging up.  If fell, of course, and slashed poor Max's face on the way down.  He got stitches above his eye in almost the exact spot where he got them last time.  He is getting better at holding still and not freaking out as much when the Dr. is stitching him shut.  He is one tough cookie!  I'm just glad his eye is okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-7362789087451361106?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/7362789087451361106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=7362789087451361106' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/7362789087451361106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/7362789087451361106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2009/07/stitches-again.html' title='Stitches Again!'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SndtL_kjHHI/AAAAAAAAAB4/9JV0dw6UTLY/s72-c/stitches-III.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-6496584014181134762</id><published>2009-07-07T22:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T08:31:34.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maxers the Menace</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SlQzXur3PYI/AAAAAAAAABw/vD-lKbbSPi4/s1600-h/maxers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 361px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SlQzXur3PYI/AAAAAAAAABw/vD-lKbbSPi4/s400/maxers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355962339612376450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know Max has always been my "hand-full" child.  I never knew it would just keep going.  Here are just a few things he's been up to: (and they're not all bad)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;He loves weapons...guns, swords, knives, ropes...anything he can swing, hit, stab, shoot.  (We're talking toys, of course.  The day he's old enough to have a pocket knife will be the day he moves out of my house!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He loves quarters and pennies.  Any change, really. He will hold it in his hand all day.  He won't let it go or put it down.  Even at night when he's sleeping.  Same with his weapons actually.  Lately he's been sleeping with a quarter and 2 dimes, a sword and a pistol (that he is "borrowing" from Holden).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He gets really frustrated.  When he does, he makes this awful growling which sounds a lot like the Hulk.  Hmmm, maybe I shouldn't have let him watch that with us...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He is practically potty trained.  Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought he'd catch on this fast.  And what's even better, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he&lt;/span&gt; decided he wanted to.  I didn't even push it at all.  Although he likes to tease me and spread his legs apart and say, "Mom, I'm peein'."  Which causes me to shriek and grab him as I run him to the potty.  He usually tells me when he has to go.  :)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He will drink water from anywhere.  The street gutter, the swimming pool, the bath tub, the dish water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If he wakes up and I'm not there, he will come find me.  He doesn't cry and whine the way Lukas does.   He just finds me and crawls into bed wherever I am.  And when we are in the same bed, he has to be touching me.  If he's not, he wakes up to again find where I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Whenever I give him a treat, he always asks me to give him one for Lukas.  I will give him a sour patch kid and he'll say, "Where's one for Lukas?"  And if Lukas isn't doing what we're doing, he'll ask, "But what's Lukas doing? Where is he?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He is obsessed with the drain in our street.  It's right in front of Whitney's house and she is always saying, "Don't throw anything down there."  So what does he do?  Whatever is in his hands, he will throw it down there.  Even his beloved sword and pistol.  (Both of which we retrieved for him.  How whipped are we?? Duh.)  He has stripped naked and thrown his underwear down there.  He likes to throw rocks down there, too.  Poor fish and ocean.\&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He loves baby Hadlie (Whitney's baby).  He loves to touch her little baby feet and he will kiss her and want to touch her face.  I've never seen him act like this with something smaller than him.  He talks in a sweet voice and will say cute things to her.  Hmmm, maybe I could have another baby...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He knows where my chocolate is stashed and he will share it with everyone around.  And he prefers the dark chocolate (I stash both in my bedside table.) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He thinks there are buttons on his shoes, that if he pushes, will make him go faster.  Sonic fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He whails on his older brother.  He is tough and Lukas screams like a girl when he comes after him.  He'll take him down in seconds if there is conflict.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He will laugh at any word that has to do with going potty.  And he says them constantly.  Everything is "poop".&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Pat wrote down some things he's observed about Max.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;He fell asleep with a grape in his cheek.  It was stiking out like a little chipmunk.  It was hilarious.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He loves to take showers with his brother and one time dumped mommy's economy size body wash down the drain.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He peed and pooped all over the floor at IKEA and Pat cleaned it up!  Gross!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He can be so sweet and loves to give kisses and gives good hugs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He will open his car door after he's been buckled if we don't lock it first.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He loves to eat just like his dad.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He likes to dance on command.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He is very curious and gets into everything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He almost peed in the ac vent on the floor (luckily Mommy caught him before it was too late!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He is good at showing his reverent mode (Daddy did an FHE on how to be reverent).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-6496584014181134762?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/6496584014181134762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=6496584014181134762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/6496584014181134762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/6496584014181134762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2009/07/maxers-menace.html' title='Maxers the Menace'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SlQzXur3PYI/AAAAAAAAABw/vD-lKbbSPi4/s72-c/maxers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-8453817519149623055</id><published>2009-06-24T16:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T16:38:08.334-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The end...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz4Vc9vrDI/AAAAAAAAACY/dzz1Ew9Dn-o/s1600-h/theend.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 383px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz4Vc9vrDI/AAAAAAAAACY/dzz1Ew9Dn-o/s400/theend.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394459501119122482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz4Uwna-DI/AAAAAAAAACQ/sA_Ktnot5hk/s1600-h/maxers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 176px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz4Uwna-DI/AAAAAAAAACQ/sA_Ktnot5hk/s400/maxers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394459489214330930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of diapers is in sight!  Way to go Maxers for being a &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;big boy&lt;/span&gt; and going on the &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;potty&lt;/span&gt; (almost) every time!  You owe it to your big brother who teaches by example and gives you lots of praise!  I love having boys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-8453817519149623055?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/8453817519149623055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=8453817519149623055' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/8453817519149623055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/8453817519149623055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2009/06/end.html' title='The end...'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Stz4Vc9vrDI/AAAAAAAAACY/dzz1Ew9Dn-o/s72-c/theend.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-4210276661722986258</id><published>2009-06-15T23:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T00:24:36.710-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Max at 2 1/2</title><content type='html'>Max is getting so big.  Here are some things he's doing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;He gets frustrated easily.  If he gets in trouble, he immediately calls me names..."You're stupid", "You're awful", "You liar".  Anything he can think of.   He also likes to hit.  It makes me sad.  If he's mad at Lukas, he says the same things and then hits, not just once or twice, but until Lukas can't take it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He is addicted to quarters.  He has to have his "money" with him in his hand or pocket wherever he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He likes to hold little objects.  When he wakes up in the morning and I make his bed I find all kinds of things:  plastic toys, balls, hangers, money, his fishy (plastic), water gun...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He thinks "poop" and "pee" are the funniest words ever.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He loves to unroll his window in the car and let the wind blow him away.  Lukas hates the wind, which is partly why I think Max likes it so much.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;At church whenever we get ready to sing a hymn, he'll say, "Is it home time?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He'll be crying and upset and I'll ask him, "What's wrong?" to which he replies, "Anything!"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He can be so sweet and say, "Thanks mom, thanks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He climbs all over me, smothering me with hugs and squeezes.  He's hard to fight off.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He constantly falls and gets hurt whether there is something there to trip on or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When his nose is runny, he'll come crying to me saying, "I have a bloody nose!"  He's had quite a few in his day.  He also loves to bring me his boogers.  :P&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He likes to drink the bath water.  Eeeeew.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He is now obsessed with worms.  He loves to hold them and find them in the dirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-4210276661722986258?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/4210276661722986258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=4210276661722986258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/4210276661722986258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/4210276661722986258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2009/06/max-at-2-12.html' title='Max at 2 1/2'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-6562985146115989301</id><published>2009-06-14T09:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T00:21:21.517-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shiner</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SjdH3LzTvDI/AAAAAAAAABg/D2JaIoBNKqE/s1600-h/max+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SjdH3LzTvDI/AAAAAAAAABg/D2JaIoBNKqE/s400/max+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347822095912123442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Max has done it again. Another owie. We were at a restaurant Friday night and he tripped and hit his face on the bench right below his eye. It was very puffy and red and now it's turning purple and blue. That kid takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'. (That's his sad face.) AND, we are painting a bathroom and as I was cleaning up I noticed paint on the couch. Yes, Max put his hand in it (and trust me, we were so careful to not let him anywhere near it, yet somehow he got to it) and it's all over one of our couch cushions! ! Then later he was playing with red play doh and it's now rubbed deep into the carpet. I could scream at that kid, but how can I? He's too cute. And he just doesn't get it. He doesn't know how much trouble he's getting into. And he says, "Sorry Mom, sorry" in the cutest lisp I've ever heard. (Do ya think he needs a haircut? My Dad keeps calling him Maxine.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-6562985146115989301?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/6562985146115989301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=6562985146115989301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/6562985146115989301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/6562985146115989301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2009/06/shiner.html' title='Shiner'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SjdH3LzTvDI/AAAAAAAAABg/D2JaIoBNKqE/s72-c/max+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-8108057019029427465</id><published>2009-05-03T22:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T22:51:19.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>T R O U B L E</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Sf6CT9YcMXI/AAAAAAAAABY/tuCPGJ178DA/s1600-h/max.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 338px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Sf6CT9YcMXI/AAAAAAAAABY/tuCPGJ178DA/s400/max.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331842288259445106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was faster with the camera to capture all the trouble Max gets into in a day.  In fact, I need to be documenting more of his messes b/c it's shocking, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;His newest thing is to play in the bathroom.  He loves to climb up on the sink and put his feet in, turn the water on and get all wet.  Then he'll somehow get water into his mouth, onto the counter, on the floor, all over the mirror. And he loves to get soap on his hands to wash them.  He'll do it like 3 times in a row.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;This is my least favorite...he'll be eating a snack, dinner, or drinking something and he'll chew it but not swallow it.  I'll notice like 5 minutes later and he still hasn't swallowed so I have to take him to the sink, if I'm lucky enough to be by one, and make him spit it out.  GROSS!  This happened once while shopping and all I had was a baby wipe for him to spit in and it looked like throw up.  And you know how I feel about throw up!  EEEeeeeeww!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He climbs daily on the kitchen table and lays on it with his head hanging over so he can see underneath or he'll push the chandelier and make it swing back and forth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He throws his food half way across the room leaving a lovely trail and then just laughs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He takes my squirt bottle (again with the water) and will squirt anything in sight, including my stair master, the TV or DVD player, the floor, the mirrors (his favorite) or his brother.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He gets bloody noses like nothing I've seen.  He had 2 in one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have to hide my chapstick b/c he steals it, takes the lid off and rubs it all over everything, but mostly his face.  Then he digs his fingers in it to get more out.  What kid doesn't love tasting it too?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He won't get out of the car once I unbuckle him.  He likes to jump from seat to seat, turn the radio on, hit the hazard button.  Then when I go in the house to drop my stuff off, he lays on the horn and it honks for like a minute and everyone in the neighborhood looks out their window to see what's happening at the Mendoza's house.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;At the grocery store when I'm placing everything on the belt, he grabs a packet of Starburst or those sucker push pops and unwraps them and starts chewing or eating them.  Nothing I can do but buy it at that point.  He's got it all figured out.  Don't ask first, eat first!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Yet after all this he somehow still melts my heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-8108057019029427465?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/8108057019029427465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=8108057019029427465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/8108057019029427465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/8108057019029427465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2009/05/t-r-o-u-b-l-e.html' title='T R O U B L E'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/Sf6CT9YcMXI/AAAAAAAAABY/tuCPGJ178DA/s72-c/max.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-2864759927789096196</id><published>2009-02-22T17:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T18:00:30.278-08:00</updated><title type='text'>27 months</title><content type='html'>Max is just talking so much these days.  I wish I could remember to write down all the funny things he says to me.  Like at church we were looking at a book and I said, "Can you find the rake?"  And he said, "I don't know what a rake is Mommy."  Duh!  Anyway, he is adorable and big trouble, too.  He screams until he gets what he wants, he tackles Lukas and hits him on purpose (usually when taunted) and he does not obey.   We are still having sleep issues, too.  He wants toys and treats from the bedtime fairy, but doesn't understand the concept of staying in his bed all night.  He usually goes to bed fine, but gets up in the middle of the night and wanders the house screaming or just comes right into our room to sleep.  He wants to go to preschool with Lukas and doesn't understand why he can't yet.  He LOVES Buzz Lightyear and all superheroes.  He doesn't like nursery or being left behind.  He has to be wherever mommy is.  He likes to be outside and opens the door as often as he can.  If there is snow on the ground it is bound to be in his mouth within seconds.  He likes to ride his little scooter and it's cute to watch him push off.  He has gone potty on the toilet a few times, but I just haven't pushed potty training yet.  He is going to get it right away when I do, though b/c he watches Lukas do it and wants to do what Lukas does.  I want to video tape him talking b/c he has a lisp and a stutter and he doesn't know how to talk quiet.   It's pretty dang cute.  I can't belive he is getting so big.  He weighs 33 pounds and Lukas weighs 35.  2 years and 2 pounds apart.  Funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-2864759927789096196?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/2864759927789096196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=2864759927789096196' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/2864759927789096196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/2864759927789096196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2009/02/27-months.html' title='27 months'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-5149890729046715068</id><published>2009-01-01T22:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T22:55:30.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SV26NjBff0I/AAAAAAAAABQ/x5r57jrNmUM/s1600-h/dec+042.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286586279505395522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SV26NjBff0I/AAAAAAAAABQ/x5r57jrNmUM/s400/dec+042.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aside from the awful sleep habits, Max is so cute. He picks up a lot from Lukas and is absorbing so much. He loves Batman, Transformers, Spiderman and Kung Fu Panda and will mimick all his moves. He can be so silly and crazy with his brother. He has a bit of a mean streak and will hit kids younger or smaller than him. He's trying to find his place in the world. He gives the sweetest kisses and hugs. He is accident prone and trips, falls, and gets bonked all the time. He still has his lisp when he says his s's. He wants to go wherever Lukas goes and is very independent. He is still a good eater and loves his milky. The kid talks so much! I need to capture the cute things he says. I don't want him to get bigger. He's too cute!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-5149890729046715068?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/5149890729046715068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=5149890729046715068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/5149890729046715068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/5149890729046715068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2009/01/aside-from-awful-sleep-habits-max-is-so.html' title=''/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SV26NjBff0I/AAAAAAAAABQ/x5r57jrNmUM/s72-c/dec+042.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-6665296069282163803</id><published>2009-01-01T22:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T22:46:22.757-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep Woes</title><content type='html'>Max has been out of his crib for about 3 months now.   And for about 3 months I have not had a solid 8 hours of sleep.  The little turkey wakes up EVERY NIGHT several times.  I'm so tired that it's become a habit that he just climbs in bed with me and Pat.  Then Lukas wakes up and sees he's all alone and then HE comes in our bed.  So there are 4 bodies in our little queen-size bed.  I sleep horribly and then am "Mom the Grouch" the next day.  It's been a challenging few months.  Nothing makes me more frustrated than bedtime.  So, since it's a new year it's time for change.  Time for action. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Consistency&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Routine&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;No giving in!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The gate has gone up (I just can't lock the doors, it's too mean!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Love, not threats.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is night one and it took us an hour and a half before the kids fell asleep.  They say the first few days are the hardest.  We'll just have to be tough and we can get through this.  They will stay in their beds and sleep through the night.  I keep telling myself this.  It's just a matter of when...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-6665296069282163803?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/6665296069282163803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=6665296069282163803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/6665296069282163803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/6665296069282163803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2009/01/sleep-woes.html' title='Sleep Woes'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-7182920129280803137</id><published>2008-10-29T17:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T21:31:40.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy</title><content type='html'>Every other word that comes out of Max's mouth is "Mommy".  Hey Mommy.  Hold me Mommy.  Mommy look at that.  Okay Mommy.  Whatever he says ends in mommy.  It's quite annoying after the 10th time (in one minute).  Sometimes we'll be in the car and he'll just say my name and I'll answer him and he'll just say my name again!!!  Silly boy.  He is really getting so big.  He talks in sentences and we can really understand him and what he wants.  He is so cute and on the same note soooooo dramatic.  He has a big voice and a loud cry.  He is still a cutie pie, but he and Lukas DO NOT play well together.  Lukas tries to tell him what to do, and Max runs away screaming until they are both screaming and in shambles.  It is exhausting.  Max gets into trouble faster than I can keep up, too.  Like at he store.  Or at home.  Or at church.  Anywhere, really. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's broken, Mommy, fix it.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;This is my wallet.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I want Milk, Mommy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lukas took toy from me!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lukas hurt me!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I sleeping all day.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; I hungry, Mommy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-7182920129280803137?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/7182920129280803137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=7182920129280803137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/7182920129280803137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/7182920129280803137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2008/10/mommy.html' title='Mommy'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-6068169847046783430</id><published>2008-09-25T12:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T12:58:41.559-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Okay</title><content type='html'>As cute as Max is, he is an ever bigger troube maker.  He likes to scream whenever Lukas is near him just to get him in trouble. He pushes the kitchen chair up to the counter where he climbs up and gets in the candy jar or plays in Simon's water and scares him half to death.  He is a fiesty little guy and when he doesn't like the way things are, he'll throw things and hit whatever is in his sight.  It's so funny to hear his litle voice when I tell him, "Max, go put that away.  Be nice."  You'd think he'd cry or scream, but usually what comes out of his mouth is an "okay" with shrunk, defeated shoulders.  It's so cute!  Okay.  Max lay down.  Okay.  Eat your lunch.  Okay.  Go get a diaper.  Okay.  He gets into everything and yesterday got into my sand vase in the upstairs bathroom and there was sand everywhere!!!  It was a nightmare to clean up!  And the little stinker kept me up all night.  I don't know how to break him of his habit of waking up at 3:30 and waking everyone in the house up.  I need my sleep, Max!  C'mon!  Despite it all, one little squeeze from that guy and I'm putty in his hands.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-6068169847046783430?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/6068169847046783430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=6068169847046783430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/6068169847046783430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/6068169847046783430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2008/09/okay.html' title='Okay'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-3974011224909659872</id><published>2008-09-14T22:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T22:35:49.409-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Sweetie</title><content type='html'>I find myself kissing Max 100 times a day because he's so cute!  I just love his pudgy hands and the way he runs and dances.  He really communicates well.  He smiles and laughs and my heart just melts.  I know he's growing up too fast, so I am enjoying every minute of this stage.  He's still innocent and cute, but learning to talk and just being a little man.  He has the cutest curl in his hair and he will hug me and give me this sweet little kiss....*sigh* he's got me wrapped around his little finger!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-3974011224909659872?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/3974011224909659872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=3974011224909659872' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/3974011224909659872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/3974011224909659872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-sweetie.html' title='My Sweetie'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-7614762606025690768</id><published>2008-09-11T09:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T09:57:52.219-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Little Man</title><content type='html'>I am so in love with Max right now!  I don't want him to ever get bigger.  He is just the cutest thing ever!  His curly brown hair and that dimple in his cheek.  So dang cute!!!  He woke up this morning so happy and the first thing he said was, "play date".  I don't know why, I don't think he knows what a play date is, but he does watch Blues Clues and he was sleeping with a little puppy that looked like Blue, so maybe that was it.  He identifies so many things and speaks so clearly.  He has that lisp when he says his s's.  Lukas just had a bday, and so he sings "happy birday to you. tcha tcha tcha.  happy bday lukas. cha cha cha."  then he makes a blowing noise, like he's blowing out the candles.  It's adorable.  I need to get that on video. And if he's saying two words, he'll pause between the words.  Like he'll say "lukas __ shirt" and he'll pronounce every letter.  I just love him at this age.  He copies Lukas a lot, which can be good and bad, but they are starting to play more together. He can count to ten in english and spanish.  It's fun to see how much he picks up on and how much he talks.  He's a little man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-7614762606025690768?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/7614762606025690768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=7614762606025690768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/7614762606025690768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/7614762606025690768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-little-man.html' title='My Little Man'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-8583255050014569933</id><published>2008-08-28T20:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T20:31:13.927-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Talker</title><content type='html'>Max is talking so much. He can communicate easily with us and let us know what he likes and dislikes. He has gotten really good at throwing tantrums and just standing there screaming until we do what he wants. If he is mad, he usually throws whatever he has in his hands or whatever you are trying to give him. Then when you pick it up and give it back, he usually accepts. He also melts our hearts when he says, "luv vu" and when he gives hugs and kisses all on his own. I just love how he is so solid and can throw his weight around. He has the cutest hands and chubby wrists. He has a dimple to die for and the cutest smile ever!!! I taught him baby sign and he still remembers &lt;em&gt;please&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;more&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;milk&lt;/em&gt;. But he talks a lot with words. He clearly says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I get out (like if he's in his crib).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Unclip me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can't see.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mom, look at me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I spy my eye, sumting boo. (I spy with my little eye, something blue.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Basement or outside or downstairs (then with a gentle tug of my hand will lead me there)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stop it!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Na na nah na na nah na na BATBAM (batman theme song).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Panda, ka chow! (with a kick move)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Today I told him we're going to the store and asked if he wanted to come. He smiled and said, "IKeya" then more clearly said, "IKEA". He likes to go to my favorite place!!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pee-you. Stinky, change you. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I like it. (But really this memeans I don't like it).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lukas hurt me. or Lukas toy. (Lukas hurt me or Lukas took my toy from me). &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Play Noggin. Watch it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bear Blue House. Welcome, welcome to house. (We get the DVD Bear in the Big Blue House at the library and it's his favorite.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Twinkle, tinkle star. (He loves this song and can sing it most of the way through with help). &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Jesus sunbeam. Again, he loves this song and can sing most of it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tommy here. (Lukas friend Tommy comes over a lot).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ike keem. (Ice Cream)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Candy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Posicles (but he says it with the cutest lisp).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dinosaur.  ROAR!  Scawy.  (Scary).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I scawed.  (scared).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Yata (pinata)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We like to offer incentives for good behavior and for special occasions so after we tell him what he has to do to get the treat we say, "deal?" and he'll say "deal" back.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-8583255050014569933?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/8583255050014569933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=8583255050014569933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/8583255050014569933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/8583255050014569933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2008/08/talker.html' title='Talker'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-1150166785739792479</id><published>2008-08-26T07:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T07:50:18.034-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Move</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SLQXkS28PZI/AAAAAAAAABI/igk4X2q5FZQ/s1600-h/lateaug+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238838178843737490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SLQXkS28PZI/AAAAAAAAABI/igk4X2q5FZQ/s400/lateaug+007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here is my favorite move of Max's. He loves to dance and show his stuff when music is on. It seems that everytime he gets in the groove, he does this move where he kicks up one leg like he's doing baby yoga or something. It cracks me up and I find him doing it all the time. He is so cute!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-1150166785739792479?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/1150166785739792479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=1150166785739792479' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/1150166785739792479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/1150166785739792479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2008/08/move.html' title='The Move'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SLQXkS28PZI/AAAAAAAAABI/igk4X2q5FZQ/s72-c/lateaug+007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-4639901472833892683</id><published>2008-08-22T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T13:19:34.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Words</title><content type='html'>I just love how Max is saying so many words and repeating what we say.  Here are some funny ones:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Batban (Batman)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Budge (Fudge)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fambox (Sandbox)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Man (Spiderman)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Buss  and immediately following he'll say "Infiny &amp;amp; Beyond" (Buzz)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Poopy, change you (Because I always say to him, "Are you poopy?  Do you want me to change you?"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Falling (When he's falling off a chair or at the playground)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Raining&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Owwee, hurt&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stop It!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When he's in his crib for nap or bedtime, he'll get mad and throw his pillow, binkie or milk out and then in a sad voice say, "pillow, pillow" so we have to come back in and pick it up for him.  Then he will lay down and go to sleep. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He has a little stuffed animimal penguin and he says, "Penguino"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He'll say "Panda" then make a kung-fu move with his hands and foot.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Whenever he hears music he'll start dancing and doing funny moves (he'll ball up his fists and shake his whole body side to side fast, he'll swing his hips, jump up and down and my favorite, he'll put his hands on the ground and lift up one leg out straight!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-4639901472833892683?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/4639901472833892683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=4639901472833892683' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/4639901472833892683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/4639901472833892683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2008/08/funny-words.html' title='Funny Words'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-7097476313495146033</id><published>2008-08-20T00:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T00:09:43.792-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day at Nana's</title><content type='html'>We spent the day at Nana's today.  We made "squish fudge" which Max was excellent at because he loves to use his hands to squish things.  And he loved eating it and making a mess.  He called it "budge".  He'd just keep saying "budge, a budge".  More fudge, please.  We also went to the pool and played in the "Ban box" (sandbox).  I tried so hard to make a castle, but every time Max would destroy my efforts.  Rascal, Papa's dog, kept licking and playing with Max.  Max calls him "Racal".  And when we were leaving and Nana was telling Lukas next time it could be a sleepover for just Lukas, Max immediately said in his gruff voice "NO".  Then looked at Nana and just smiled.  He knows when he's being funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-7097476313495146033?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/7097476313495146033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=7097476313495146033' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/7097476313495146033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/7097476313495146033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2008/08/day-at-nanas.html' title='Day at Nana&apos;s'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-3933669772713842647</id><published>2008-08-19T23:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T23:56:34.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>S T I T C H E S</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SKvAGsBO7vI/AAAAAAAAAAw/GRRRiCksYII/s1600-h/maxouchie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236490212876414706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SKvAGsBO7vI/AAAAAAAAAAw/GRRRiCksYII/s400/maxouchie.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Max had a run in with the corner of the coffee table Saturday! He was just getting down off the couch and lost his balance. Then BAM his cheek met the corner and the next thing we know we're waiting in the InstaCare for the Dr. to stitch him up. He was very brave and cried only when they put the numbing gel on his face and when they swaddled him in a sheet to sew his face up. Poor little guy. So little on the table. I'm glad it wasn't worse and I'm glad he's okay. I think it's good that Pat is in nursing school b/c I think I would've just put a bandaid on it and said, "Ouchee"! He is one tough cookie! And quite accident prone. I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-3933669772713842647?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/3933669772713842647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=3933669772713842647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/3933669772713842647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/3933669772713842647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2008/08/s-t-i-t-c-h-e-s.html' title='S T I T C H E S'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hP4eLG4Ypuc/SKvAGsBO7vI/AAAAAAAAAAw/GRRRiCksYII/s72-c/maxouchie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964620509327877694.post-2603528783803098640</id><published>2008-08-13T21:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T22:51:12.245-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Max at 21 months</title><content type='html'>Max is growing so much these days!  He is talking a lot and mimiking what we say.  He has quite the personality and loves to make you laugh or be the center of attention.  He can also be very dramatic and throw his toys on the ground, or drop his milk or his binkie when he wants to protest something.   He has the cutest wave I've ever seen and he'll say "hi" to anyone, including our fish Simon. He is a great nap taker and sleeper for the most part and is still in his crib.  Although he can practically do the splits getting his foot on the top bar of the crib.  I just know one day he'll figure out he can climb out of there!  For now, he's happy in it.  He really likes to clip and unclip his carseat, highchair, stroller straps...anything that clips (shopping cart at Wal-mart).  He doesn't like to be confined, though and is pretty dang strong.  And when we get home from the store, and I unclip him, he is entertained for hours (if I let him) in the car, just playing and pushing buttons and jumping from the front seat to the back seat.  He throws a fit when we take him out of the car and into the house.  He is clever, too.  He'll dump out the shoes in the shoe basket and drag the basket over to the counter where he'll tip it over and use it as a stepping stool to climb to whatever intrests him (which happened to be Simon the other day...poor fish wondered what the heck happened with a fat little hand swishing around his water).  Here are some cute things Max says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you ask him a question, he'll bob his head up and down and say "yah".&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He'll pull my hand and drag me to the door and say, "Outside".&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dy-soar...Rrrraaaaarrrr (Dinosaur)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Marshenows (marshmellows)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eye-keem (ice cream)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Posykus (popsicles)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He'll put his hand on his diaper and say "Poopy, change you".&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Him and Lukas play the game where they get territorial and say "mine" to whatever they are holding.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Froggit (frog)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He loves Buzz Lightyear and when he sees him he'll say "And Beyond"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He makes the cutest lips and "ssssvvvshhhh" sound when he's pretending to fly a plane or shoot a gun or make Buzz fly.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When we say prayers, he'll keep his eyes open, but bow his head and say, "heh father...day...daddy"  (Heavenly Father, Thank you for this day, thank you for daddy).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He has the cutest lisp when he says his "s"s.  Everytime I want to squeeze him and kiss him and I usually do!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He has a tendancy to just hit kids in the face, so we always tell him "soft", so he'll rub his hand on his face up and down and say "soft". &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He'll say camping, cookie, bah-time (bathtime), yogurt, samich (sandwich)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4964620509327877694-2603528783803098640?l=maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/feeds/2603528783803098640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4964620509327877694&amp;postID=2603528783803098640' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/2603528783803098640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4964620509327877694/posts/default/2603528783803098640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maxwellmendoza.blogspot.com/2008/08/max-at-21-months.html' title='Max at 21 months'/><author><name>Max Mendoza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187393411058428017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
