Monday, February 27, 2012

Parenting With Love, Logic, and Projectiles

This is my prepubescent little sour puss, Zoe Bug. She has a lot of buttons and she lives with three button pushers. Poor thing.

Yesterday we sent her and Stinkerbell upstairs to play because they were being too noisy. They like to play this bizarre game called "Warriors," which is based on the very disturbing feral cat series by Erin Hunter. Talk about Cuh-reeeeepy. Anyway, they do a lot of growling, hissing, and exclaiming that this or that is their pile of fresh kill and stay away from it blah, blah, blah, . . . and then they mated, blah, blah, blah.

"What?! They WHAT?" I interject.

"Mo-OM!" they cry in unison.

"What does that mean? They mated? Where did you learn about mating?" I question.

"Mom. It means that they have kits. Geez." Zoe Bug replied with much vigorous eye rolling and a look of impatient disgust.

Parents are so dumb.

This supposed creative, imaginative play is not a pleasant scenario for any parent, and it's got me thinking that I need to sit down and write a letter to this Erin Hunter character who writes about feral animals that mate and overpopulate the world with their noisy growling, hissing, and fresh-kill-pile-making.

As I was saying, we evicted the girls from the basement and that ticked Zoe Bug off big time. She was smokin' hot mad. So mad that she stomped downstairs to get a piece of paper and a pencil so she could write me a letter and give me a piece of her mind.

The pen is mightier than the sword and all that.

After about five minutes she stomped back downstairs to tell us "Don't come in my room without reading the sign on my door first. Don't come in my room! Read the sign."

I'm just a dumb parent, but I think that even I can infer that she wants me to read the sign on her door.

I turned to Peanut Head, he turned to me, and we both nodded in agreement. We were going to walk into the ambush that was awaiting us and very possibly get ourselves killed. Cool.

We armed ourselves with Nerf Guns and ammo and otherwise prepared ourselves mentally to read THE SIGN.

Ooh-wee. This is going to be good, I thought as I made my way upstairs.

We got to Zoe Bug's bedroom door and we bent down to read the sign.

Just in case it's not clear enough for you to read, I'll interpret.

Strikes Sheet. If you get all six strikes no coming in my room or opening my door.

Below that is the Strikes Table which reveals that Mom and Dad have both had all six strikes checked off, and Stinkerbell has only two strikes checked off. Then below that it says,

I can take away strikes.

Typical Zoe Bug, waving the proverbial white flag, as if to say "I can forgive you if you make it worth my while. I deal in chocolate."

She's a lot like her Mama. She doesn't like people to be mad at her and she is quick to make nice. Aaaand then continue on in a passive aggressive manner. I like to get things resolved so I can sleep, but I never forget that you will eventually have to sleep too.

Just something to think about.

"Open up this door so I can shoot you!" I ordered the enemy behind the door.

The door did not open, so a struggle ensued. It was quickly resolved on account of she weighs just 70 pounds and I weigh . . . much, much more.

I was so happy to be in the coveted room from which I had been banished by my multitude of strikes, that I let all my bullets fly in one go. I tend to be impulsive and not plan ahead for the Armageddon like that.

Peanut Head, on the other hand, is much more level-headed and plans out the discharging of his munitions. It's grunt thing, I think.

Hmmm. I haven't taken Peanut Head's gun safety course like I know this cute little thing did, but even I know that you should never aim a gun at a person that you don't intend to shoot.

I guess in actuality, she intended to shoot.

And she did.

"That's it! You have a strike!" I exclaimed, because I simply cannot help myself.

Zoe Bug was not amused. She got mad and her lips started quivering.

It sorted reminded me of her first temper tantrum when she was two. I was a fairly new scrapbooker at the time, and I was all about documenting all the firsts in her life. I even gave her some tantrum tips. 

"Sweetie, kick your legs while you scream and it will be a tantrum you can be proud of."

Hey, it worked.

Somewhere along the way Zoe Bug started having fun and it became a game.

Here she is preparing to ambush Peanut Head.

"Don't rat me out, Mom. You villainous traitor." 

Okay, she didn't say that, but she should have. She would have been dead on.

Stinkerbell got in on the action too, because she likes a good fight.

It lasted a good long time, and everyone got all sweaty and stinky and then the love came back into our day.

And this is why I believe every family member should have a Nerf gun with plenty of ammo.

This post is not endorsed by any Parenting magazines or professionals in the know. They are strictly my views. No wedgies were given in the photographing of this event, and no little persons were harmed, although Gunny Bunny did nearly choke on a Nerf disk. It's coming out of his allowance, mark my words.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Valentine Paint Cans

I'm so excited to share these Valentine paint cans with you today because they are a result of an e-mail I sent out way back in August.

I absolutely adore the artist Kate Hadfield and her digital designs, so I asked her if I could create a Valentine paint can insert with her Love and Romance digital kit and then share the template with you on my blog.

Well, I feel so special because she doesn't normally allow this sort of thing, but she said yes! She must have been feeling the love in her heart.

Yay Us!

I made two sizes of the same template. One is for the quart sized paint cans and the other is for the itty bitty cans that are just three inches tall. 

First click on the templates to get the best resolution, then save them to your computer. From there, upload them to your favorite photo center that prints 11" x 14" enlargements. I use Sam's Club Photo Center for my enlargements. Each template will decorate two cans.

Once you get your templates, simply cut them out, roll them with the printed side facing out, and insert them inside the paint cans. Then gently flatten them against the paint can, starting at one end of the template and continuing to the other end. Don't bother adhering them to the cans. They stay pretty secure once you get them in.

I cutified my cans even more by adhering some pretty ribbon to the outside of the paint can using double-sided tape and adhering a circle of scrapbook paper to the lid. Peanut Head drilled a hole in the lid of the larger can so I could screw a small knob onto it. It makes opening the larger paint can easier, and it looks super duper cute, don't you think?

Oh yeah, don't forget to tie some pieces of ribbon to the handle. Like bacon, everything is better with ribbon.

These cans are perfect for filling with chocolate for your sweetheart, a teacher, or a BFF. Or perhaps someone that you loathe and you just want to creep out. That's what I'm doing with mine.

On second thought, I can't really think of anyone I loathe right now. 

Maybe next year.

Here are the templates. Enjoy! Oh yeah, and would you be a love and go visit Kate and send her some comment love for the super awesome digital kit? Thanks. You're the best!

Monday, February 6, 2012

Sunday, February 5, 2012

She is Not Amused

I'm feeling very on top of things right now, because I just finished our Valentines nine days ahead of schedule. As in not seven hours before school starts on Valentine's Day. Whoo hoo!

I'd like to kick back and bask in the glory and all that, but the real truth is that the only reason I am done with plenty of time to spare is because I'm avoiding some other very important things.

Deadline looming like the Cloud of Death important things.

I don't want to think about those things right now though. I don't want to harsh my mellow.

I've been itching to try these hand-my-friends-a-lollipop Valentines for a couple years now. I know that everyone and their brother is doing them, but they are so cute, so I'm copying.

I've also been eyeing the cute "I mustache you a question" Valentines. I thought they would be perfect for Stinkerbell because she's so anti-girly.

Sadly, she was not amused.

I think she's warming up to them though. I told her that they're all the rage for boys this year.

I don't think I've mentioned this, but she has completely banished anything remotely girly from her wardrobe. In fact, she insists that all of her clothes come from the boys' department.

It kills me.

It has been unfolding in stages. It started when she was three and I unveiled her very girly flower room.

That was when I learned that three is not too young to stick your fingers down your throat and pretend to violently vomit.

You could say that there were early signs that we were in trouble.

It has been a rough road for a Mama dressing vicariously through her children.

My days of dressing my baby were numbered.

It started out subtly. Like she wouldn't hug anyone that had buttons on their clothes. Then it expanded to jewels and bling.

Then she wouldn't even play with Zoe Bug if she had glitter or bling on her clothes.

Then she started wearing the clothes that she hated inside out, because we wouldn't let her go to school naked.

In the end she showed us by passive aggressively wearing the clothes she hated without underwear.

It has been one big, exhausting, exasperating, power struggle.

I think it's a control thing. I have no idea where she gets it from, but this school year I finally gave up the fight. She wins. I lose.

And because she gets her passive aggressive gene from me, her Valentines get a mustache.


I made these Valentines for the monsters in my classroom. I heart them.

But not in a creepy way.

You always have to qualify that statement when you're gushing over sixth graders, lest they be grossed out.

Just in case you can't tell, I wrapped Rolos in Valentine paper and added the little tag. Another Pinterest inspired Valentine.

I'm going to share these Justin Bieber cupcakes with them tomorrow, on account of my birthday was yesterday and I believe in celebrating birthdays at school with cupcakes.

I'm betting that they're going to take one look at the Bieber Heads and stick their fingers down their throats and pretend to violently vomit.

At least that's what I'm hoping for.