Not seeing the boy

He walks through the door, dropping his jacket and backpack in a large heap behind him. I trip over his shoes as I bend down to grab the wrapper from his after-school snack off the floor.

"Do you have any homework?" I ask, wearily.

He launches into a tirade of all the projects he is working on. I groan, knowing just how much time all those things will take.

Grabbing a paper towel, I wipe up the milk he has just spilled. I snap at him for his carelessness. Reaching for another towel, I stumble over his trumpet case.

In an instant, all the petty annoyance bubbles up and spills over. I chew him out for not practicing often enough, making threats about canceling his trumpet lessons. I move to the projects he has coming up, and remind him angrily that he better get them done before scouts. I grit my teeth and spew venom about the mess he has made on the counter.

I turn around to continue my rant, and notice his blue eyes fill with tears. He hangs his head and apologizes softly. He promises he will practice more. He reaches for his backpack to start on homework, as the tears spill over his lightly freckled cheeks.

Guilt and regret instantly turn my irrational rage into compassion.

I move across the room and take him into my arms. I apologize for snapping at him, and tell him that I love him. He sobs quietly, as he tells me how overwhelmed he is feeling today. How the projects at school seem insurmountable, and he doesn't know if he'll be able to find the time to get it all done.

I wonder then how I didn't notice the sagging shoulders and somber expression when he walked in the door.

How could I only see the mess and the shoes, and miss the boy completely?

I curse myself, wishing I could take it all back and start again. Today was a total mom fail. Doesn't matter that I am right. He does need to practice more. Those projects have to get done before he runs off to play. He should have been more careful with the milk.

But he's only a kid.

And he's my kid.

And today, instead of noticing that he needed to be picked up, I knocked him down. Instead of being that safe, warm place to come home to, I hit him with anger and annoyance the minute he walked through the door.

I need to remember when I'm tired and cranky, that I have no right to take it out on him. I need to look first, and yell later (or not at all). I need to be grateful that I have such a good kid. A kid who gets straight A's, is friends with everyone, and always tries to help those around him. I need to tell him how much I love him, and how proud I am of who he is.

Because at the end of the day, the trumpet, the milk, and the homework do not matter one bit. What matters is that he knows just how much his mama loves him.

a quick thanks

How awesome was our first ever How-To Tuesday?

It was so awesome. Seriously. Made my day.

You need to click through and read every post. (Except for my idiot brother who thought it would be funny to link back to me. Whatevs.) They were fantastic! I am so happy you all decided to play along. If you missed it this week, start thinking of ideas and join in next Tuesday. Really, anything will work. How to make cookies. How to get marker off a wall. How to successfully carry on a telephone conversation with children nearby. How to eat cookies and not get fat.

Anyone? Anyone have the answer to that one? I'll pay. Really, I will.

Anyway, heading out the door to run about nine billion errands today. Sheesh. The people around here seem to think that having food is important. Oh, the nerve...

How-To Tuesday: How to tailor a shirt

Welcome to the very first installment of what I hope will be a long series of highly informative, entertaining, or just plain silly posts on our How-To Tuesdays.

[I know it's Monday. I wanted to get it up early to give you all a chance to link up. And make sure I did Mr. Linky right.]

Today I am going to share with you a little secret that tailors everywhere do not want you to know: How to tailor your own shirt.

You see, last year, the Husband decided one morning that he wanted to get in shape. All he pretty much had to do was decide that and 20 pounds fell off his body.

I tried really hard not to hate him for it.

Being the frugal man that he is, he did not want to run out and buy all new shirts. We figured we could tailor the ones he wanted to keep, and buy some new ones, as well. So we researched how to do it, purchased a sewing machine, and made the greatest discovery ever. This is so easy, it's ridiculous.

Start with the shirt you want to take in. Put it on inside-out.

Pull the fabric to your desired fit, and start pinning. You need to pin both seams on the sides - going all the way up the length of the shirt.

In order to avoid any bunching, you need to make a continuous seam from the sides to the sleeves. If you are not taking in the sleeves at all, just sew up around the armpit and taper off until you meet the existing arm seam. If you are taking your sleeves in, keep pinning to the end of the sleeve.

Carefully remove the inside-out/newly pinned shirt from your model, being careful to not scratch his face with the pins.

Because when you do that? He doesn't like it. At all. And WILL complain loudly.

[Cough*wuss*cough.]

Then sew a straight line from the bottom of the shirt up to the sleeves, again, tapering off as necessary. Because he didn't want to take the sleeves in (you know, to accomodate those large, manly biceps), I simply tapered my seam until it met the existing arm seam.

Before cutting off the excess fabric, try the shirt on (right side out this time) to make sure it is a good fit. If you need to take it in a little more, you can. If you took it in too much, you can unpick the seams and start again.

Then carefully, OH SO CAREFULLY, cut off your excess fabric.

Be sure your shirt is not bunched up underneath, or you will cut a large hole in the shirt. And it might happen to be the expensive dress shirt that was your husband's favorite. The one he loved more than all the other shirts. And there will be no repairing it. And you will feel terribly guilty. And he will feel terribly sad.

Not that I'd know anything about that, ahem.

JUST. BE. CAREFUL.

And that's it! Takes less than 10 minutes to do, and saves you oodles of money at the tailor. Which then leaves more money for shoes. Yay!

It works great for women's shirts, too.

Especially if you happen to be smaller-waisted and larger-chested like me. In order to find shirts to fit me in the chest, they are often baggy and big at the waist. Drives me insane.

Enter the self-tailoring.

I bought this tank top at Ann Taylor Loft and fell in love with the ruffly flowers and beading. See? Look how adorable:

Only problem was, all they had left on the rack was a size L, which was too big for me. Rather than walking away from the store in despair, I bought it, knowing how easy it would be to tailor the shirt myself.

Here is the before:

Notice how baggy the fabric is at the waist (and chest). Not a good fit. Made me look larger than I actually am - something I avoid like the plague.

And here is the after:

So much better, right?

I do this now to any shirt that doesn't fit well. If I find something I love on the rack in a store, that maybe is too big in some spots, I buy it anyway, take it home, and fix it right up. Works like a charm.

Now it's your turn. What can you teach me how to do? Type the link to your post in our Mr. Linky here, grab a button from my sidebar, and play along. We all have something we can do. Let's share it.

All she needs now is juicy shorts and a tramp stamp

As I whined about mentioned last week, the Husband was gone on a six-day ski bender. Two states, countless runs down the mountains, and a couple of very sore legs later, he staggered in the door with a smile on his newly-scruffled face.

Once the children had let go of their manic death grip on his legs, he pulled out the souvenirs. Tee-shirts for everyone (myself included). The boys snatched theirs up and ran to try them on.

For us girls, he had two shirts - both the same size - and said that Hannah and I could decide between us which one we wanted.

[Pause for interjection: Obviously, I am not a child size 7, nor will I attempt to squeeze myself into one. The shirt for Hannah will be a little big. Just clarifying in case you had me confused with Kate Moss. Or Hugh Hefner's girlfriend(s). Now back to our story.]

Hannah, whose favorite color this week happens to be blue, took the blue one. Not really caring which one I got, I happily agreed.

And then I read the shirts.

Here is the black one (rejected by Hannah on the basis of color alone):

Aaaaand, the blue one. Her shirt of choice:

Seriously. I tried to tell her what a cute pajama shirt it will make, and her eyes welled up with tears. "Why? Why can't I wear it to school?"

Why, indeed.

I know she doesn't get it, but her teachers certainly will.

And once again, I have become THAT mother. Yay me.

Stie has gone global. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Hello, peeps. Can I just say thanks? Thanks to all of you who played along in our little mapping game. It was so fun for the kids and I all weekend. They rushed over to the computer every time it made the little 'ping' letting us know there was a new comment. Made the days go by so much faster.

And, hello? Some of you get to live in just about the best places ever. I am highly jealous. I would love to live in a little fishing town in Scotland. Or Denmark. Or Australia.

Heck, on this cold day, I'd happily take California.

I am highly intrigued by the reader living in Qatar, however. In my ignorance, it sounds positively terrifying. And the reader in Singapore! Sounds very exotic.

But maybe the grass isn't greener. Maybe you wake up in your respective cities, bored, tired, hungry, and head off to work. Or you grit your teeth and clean up spilled milk, wishing desperately to be somewhere else. Somewhere really exciting like Missouri.

Nah. Pretty sure your lives are awesome.

Anyway, here is the rundown, with the states highlighted in white having no commentors. Clearly, I am not loved in the Dakotas. Or that big chunk that runs down through Arkansas.

As you can see, I am represented by you fine people elsewhere though. I am highly adored by the good people of Utah, with California a close second. Ironically, no one from my own state of Missouri commented, though theoretically I have friends and peeps here. I'm pretty sure a few of my real-life friends read. But maybe not? Maybe I'm not as cool as I think I am.

Oh well. At least I'm loved in Australia. And maybe one of the readers down there knows Hugh Jackman? If you see him, tell him to call me.

Anyway, thanks for keeping us busy and entertained on what could have been an otherwise hard weekend. You are the best.

And if any of you have guest rooms and would like me to visit, just say the word. I'm just generous enough to impose myself upon you for weeks at a time.

Except Qatar. I'm slightly scared of things over in that neck of the woods right now. Matter of fact, Qatar, shall I ready my guest room for YOU?

**Updated to add: I misappropriated my Netherlands reader! So sorry - you mentioned being from Minnesota, and I put the tally there by mistake. I have people in the Netherlands! Woo!

How to be the hostess with the mostess

I have made no secret amongst my family and friends how much I love having visitors. Maybe it's the excitement of showing off my city to visitors who've never been here. Or reconnecting with loved ones that we haven't seen in a while.

Quite possibly it's the week-long manic cleaning fest I engage in when I know guests are coming.

Whatever the reason, it's something we all look forward to.

And because I am bored awesome, I am going to share some of my hosting secrets with you.

I know. Try to contain your excitement.

In our current home, we are fortunate enough to have two extra bedrooms that we use as guest rooms. We've not always been so lucky (I'm talking to you, tiny townhouse in San Diego! And you, two-bedroom apartment in Boston!) but we are thrilled to be able to offer guests their own bedroom and bathroom now.

When we've not had lodgings to spare, we've kicked children out of their rooms, scoured every surface in bleach, and put guests in there. A key for happy visitors is not having to share a bunk bed with your three-year-old who is having night terrors. Privacy is a must. If you simply can't spare the space, offer to sleep on the hideaway in the living room, and put the guests in YOUR room.

Remember, they've come a long way and likely spent a pretty penny to get there. Make them feel welcome and comfortable.

Extra towels are a MUST. I always stock the guest bathroom with fresh towels, and put a stack of extras at the foot of the bed. I can't think of anything that grosses me out more than using a towel after someone else - be it my own husband, children, or otherwise. Towels cost only a few dollars at Wal-Mart or Target. Plus? When your guests leave, you have new towels to add to your own rotation, as well.

One trick I learned on my first visit to Casa de Gabi was the guest basket. I loved having one of my own at her place, and have never let a guest sleep in my home without one since.

The contents vary by visitor and my anticipation of their likes/needs, but the gist is the same. Magazines, snacks, water bottles, and spare toiletry items. You know never what you'll forget at home on a trip, and it's nice to have it on hand.

I also call each visitor a few days before their arrival and ask if there are any drinks/foods/snacks that they'd like me to pick up. My mother-in-law's drink of choice is far different from my own, and I know it makes her happy to find it waiting oh-so-cold in the fridge. If there are kids coming, what do they like for breakfast? What passes for a morning meal around here may not work for someone else's kids. Everyone is most comfortable when familiar foods abound.

Another thing I like to do is have a stack of recently-read books on the nightstand. I am not necessarily a book saver - if I've read it and liked it, I am happy to pass it on to the next person.

Plus? Maybe your guests are speed readers and have plowed through their 18 books on the plane or in the car. (No, Daniel, I'm not talking to you. I realize you're barely literate). But it's always a nice treat to have a new book to read or put on your list to be read next.

Lastly, be prepared with fun ideas in various price ranges for sight-seeing. Your guests have not likely prepared an itinerary of every local spot they want to hit. They are relying on you to know the best restaurants and sights to see in YOUR city. Have ideas ready so you're not spending half a day trying to decide what to do.

So, now I just have to ask, who is going to come visit next? Your room is all ready...