Of muscles and men

The other day, my kids were flexing their bicep muscles and showing off to each other. Not one to be outdone, I lifted my shirt sleeve and showcased my own muscles.

Or lack thereof.

The Husband laughed, in a polite sort of way, and felt the proffered muscle. Finding my arm lacking muscles of any sort, he started pinching around as if trying to solve the riddle of the missing bicep. What he did find in abundance, apparently, was a good deal of the squishy old lady flab underneath my arm.

The slight look of horror on his face told me he might not be too impressed.

I kindly offered to keep ALL my jiggly bits from his sight and touch, lest they gross him out and affect his ability to concentrate in meetings at work.

He suddenly found within himself and professed an undying love for ALL my body parts.

Especially the jiggly ones.

Imagine that.

Waterloo in the backyard

Our neighborhood does not contain a whole lot of children.

We did not know that fact when we chose to purchase this home. We (like all the really old folks surrounding us) were lured in by the siren song of the HOA paying for lawn care and snow removal. It has been nice living here, in spite of the guilt I feel when I see all of our 90-year-old neighbors vacuuming their lawns for six hours a day, while my yard sits as the one blight on the street, shamefully un-vacuumed.

And mine the one back literally strong enough to do it. Go figure.

But the kids do not lack for friends. There is a neighborhood adjoining ours that is full of playmates, and at least several days per week there are strangers' offspring rooting around in my pantry for after-school snacks. It's great and I love it.

There is one boy, however, who lives down the street and - for reasons unfathomable to me - hates my children. We have invited him over countless times, and each time our invitation has been met with an excuse about the important date he has with his video games. Shrugging our shoulders, we moved on to other friends, and have not mourned the loss of his company.

The problem with this kid is that he is constantly challenging the neighborhood boys to duels of physicality. A baseball pitching contest. A basketball tournament. A foot race. These challenges are always issued with insults and spite -- and he has yet to win any of them.

He reminds me slightly of Napoleon (Bonaparte, that is, not Dynamite). He is short, angry, and determined to conquer the world and everyone in it.

The problem with the war he is waging on McKay lies with me. I have this innate psycho need to be liked. And to have my children liked. I can't fathom what we have done to offend him, and feel that he must be brought to reason. He MUST not know how awesome we are, otherwise he could not possibly dislike us. Surely, he has just not looked closely at our strengths of character, wit, and charm. I mean, we are likable people! We are funny! We are charming! We I have issues!

I am constantly interjecting into the strategy conferences between McKay and his allies that maybe all Napoleon needs is to be invited over for cookies and ice cream.

These suggestions are met with blank stares and questions regarding my sanity.

Apparently, war is not resolved over homemade chocolate chip cookies.

It is decided on the basketball court with a very short, hateful boy named Napoleon who does not like me my children.

And it is okay.

Or so they tell me, while I sit rocking in the corner mumbling, "But why? Why doesn't he like me?"

Don't worry. I'll be all right. Eventually.

How-To Tuesday: Canvas Maps

How-To Tuesday is back, baby!

And today's post comes to you courtesy of Creative Juices Decor. I saw this idea featured on Remodelaholic and knew it was exactly what I had been looking for. We have been wanting to put a map up in the basement and keep tabs on the Husband's travels, as well as our own, for quite some time now. In fact, we've had the map waiting for almost a year, with just no ideas of how to hang it. When I saw this post, it was perfect.

(Note: If you do decide to post your own tutorial, please link back to Creative Juices. This idea is all hers and she should get the credit for it. I am nothing, if not vigilant, when it comes to crediting others for their brilliant ideas. Please do the same.)

All right. Here we go. Our multi-canvased map:

I started by tasking the Husband with designing the layout. He created the masterpiece in our living room, and I knew this would be perfect for his spatial brain. My brain? Pretty much full of a combination of People Magazine, puppies, and diet coke. Not much room in there for the math. Lucky for me, he is really good at the math.

We measured our map, then bought the canvases to fit per his design. I spray painted the edges black, not worrying about the fronts at all (since they will be covered by the map).

Once dry, I brought the canvases inside and laid the map over the top. I measured each canvas, and cut the map to fit each piece.

I then started to adhere the map pieces to the canvas with Mod Podge, and found a very eager little girl by my side. I silenced my inner Martha and let her help. After all, we were going to be sticking pins all over these maps. What damage could a child helper do?

She actually did great. She's much more craftily talented than her mother.

After the pieces were all attached with the Mod Podge, we left them to dry.

Once dried, we came back and applied another layer of Mod Podge. Then let it dry. And applied another.

[Not pictured: Since I knew we were going to be putting pins in these, I also cut a square of foam board and stuck it in the back of each canvas. I wanted the pins to have something to stick to, and this worked great. I simply hot glued the foam board in.]

Then the unhappy task fell to the Husband of getting the many pieces hung. This required a lot more of the math, plus a level, tape measure, and nails. He's slightly obsessed with never having any extra nail holes in the wall when he hangs things, and that makes it much more difficult (though efficient). It was a pain.

He's a good man. I'm totally keeping him.

Once hung, we started to put in pins for all the places we've been. Everyone got their own colored pin. The Husband's is red -- suffice to say, there are A LOT of red pins. The kids had fun helping and reliving vacation destinations. By the way, we only count a city/state if we've spent the night or had a purposeful meal there. Airports and drive-thru's do not count. Even still, we have been to a good number of states between the five of us.

And that's it! Super easy, visually interesting, and a fun way to keep tabs on our family travels.

Your turn. What can you teach me today?

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How it all went down

Well, my friends, April Fools around here wasn't pretty.

Especially if your name happens to be McKay.

All went according to plan. He walked in the door, shock and dismay on his face when he saw his younger siblings home before him. He saw them eating doughnuts and begged for one of his own. Of course we said no.

At least for a little while. Then, after much pleading on his part, his wish was granted.

Be careful what you wish for has never rang more true than at that moment.

He took a bite or two, and started to get suspicious.

Foolishly, he kept eating, but about halfway through the doughnut, he KNEW something was wrong.

Hannah yelled it out first, "April Fools! We put mayonnaise in your doughnut!"

A mad dash to the sink and it was all over.

Here's the funny thing: He took it like a champ. I expected (and was prepared to fully pardon) rage and bitterness on his part. I thought he'd be furious. I know I would have been. What we did to him was disgusting.

But my sweet boy laughed and smiled, and agreed it was a good joke. He asked questions about how we did it, and wondered when we planned it all. Not once did he express anger. Not once did he raise his voice.

He handled it much better than I would have, I can promise you that.

Because of his good sense of humor about it, we abandoned the rest of our plans (except for the princess music on his iPod. That one was already too late). And even that prank brought a smile to his face.

He's a good sport. He's a good kid.

Here's hoping that the memory of the doughnut will keep him from trolling around next year. But if it does not, I think we'll all take a page from his book and laugh about the pranks anyway.

Exacting our revenge

From April 2nd to March 31st, my sweet firstborn son looks like this:

But from 12:00 midnight on April 1st until 11:59 p.m., he turns into this:

This morning, while the rest of the house was sleeping, he began his reign of terror. His first task was pouring lemon juice over all our toothbrushes.

He then moved to the freezer and attacked the frozen waffles (Chase's breakfast of champions) by dumping salt over EVERY. SINGLE. WAFFLE. Seriously. Like a whole freezer's worth of waffles? Completely inedible. Gone.

And, should Chase have been foolish enough to actually pour syrup over one of those salty breakfast treats, he watered down the syrup with about a gallon of water.

Honestly.

It took every ounce of my strength not to kill him this morning. Once discovered, he rolled on the floor, laughing hysterically. He cannot get enough of himself and wonders why the rest of us feel like punching him. The child is a troll and must be stopped.

Seriously, do you remember what he did last year? It's a miracle the child lived to see another birthday.

I thank heavens for you good people though, because I am using SEVERAL of your ideas today.

For example, I will be pulling the other two out of school early. And when McKay walks in the door and finds them already home? He won't be happy.

That unhappiness will turn to rage when he sees that they are sitting at the table gleefully eating cream-filled donuts. Which, for a while, won't be shared with him. We will make him sweat it out and worry. He will be bugged that we get treats and he does not.

Then finally, when we give in and let him have one? Oh, the surprise he'll find in the middle. Not sweet custard. Not cream. BUT MAYONNAISE.

Oh, yes. I am going there (thanks a million, Matthew M., BEST. IDEA. EVER).

And his beloved I-pod? Mysteriously erased and filled only with Broadway musicals and princess songs. Hmmm...how did that happen?

Also? The dinner I'm planning for tonight? One I know he absolutely hates, but the rest of us love.

And after an exhausting evening of mayonnaise donuts, bad dinner, and no music? He'll climb into bed, dejected and tired, only to find that hidden under his sheets are a full set of jacks.

And THAT, my friends, is why you should never, ever mess with your mama.

My family versus the volcano

The headache starts first, followed immediately by an overwhelming urge to snap at anyone who talks to me. I feel irritable and annoyed without knowing why. I am put out if I have to answer even the most simple, basic question. It is all I can do to not throw a giant tantrum at the horror and injustice of having to speak. Then, if enough time passes, I start to actually feel hungry.

I don't know what it is, but I feel the irritation first and the hunger second. Am I alone in that?

My kids have learned to recognize it and McKay will often say, "Mom, do you need to eat something?"

The Husband will warn everyone that, "Mom is hangry. Better watch out."

Usually the word "hangry" prompts them all to either clear out and head for high ground or offer the beast some food.

It's like I'm an insatiable volcano - and they fear for their village if they don't offer some sort of sacrifice. Pretty much anything will work. As long as it's food. Or diet coke. Or both.

The Hangry? It feels sort of like the uncontrollable pregnancy hormones (though, um, no. Not what's causing it. I am not now, nor will I ever be again, thankyouverymuch). But it's like the Hangry is raging a war, and I am the vessel with which it attacks. I can no sooner control it than I can part the Red Sea.

Seriously, girlfriend has tried. (Tried controlling it. Not parting the Red Sea. Though it would be awesome if I could, right?)

Best thing to do is just not be hungry. Snack, drink lots of water, and stay on top of the beast.

Anyone else get the Hangry? Please say I am not alone in this?

SAY IT. OR I WILL EAT YOU.