This Full House Archive

Author: Liz@ThisFullHouse

  • Failing On MY OWN Terms, DAMMIT!

    Warning: I’m about to dump a bunch of raw words into your feeds, but I really need to throw my intentions out into the ether, you know, to make sure that shit sticks.

    Leaving

    Okay, now that the straights are gone, I can open up and speak a couple of truths, and if you're still here, thank you!

    I walked away from my “dream job” a year ago: A position that allowed me to financially support our household, while GarthNHRN and I continued to help care for our handicapped parents.

    I turned my back on people (team members/friends) who trusted me to do my job well: I still feel real shitty, even after calling my team (in tears) to let them know I was resigning that evening, each of them reassuring me that they "get it" and proving to be perfect examples of what it means to be good humans, ending the call with words of encouragement, because there is nothing worse than losing control of your own failure.

    I spent most of yesterday re-working my resume (AGAIN!): To make it all clean and shiny and help me stand out among the hundreds of others submitting theirs for positions I'm applying to, as well.

    The number of emails in my "rejections" folder is growing: Currently, I've received 13 (that's 1 rejection per month since leaving my job) not counting the number of submissions and follow-up emails that still remain unanswered.

    On the one hand, I get it: Learning how to fail is THE HARDEST life lesson, isn't it? 

    On the other hand, I still feel real shitty: There's a thin veil between moving passed an unsuccessful situation and allowing failure to define us.

    WHICH IS WHY WHAT I'M ABOUT TO PUT OUT INTO THE ETHER IS LITERALLY SCARING THE EVER LIVING WORDS OUT OF ME!

    Oldest girl (getting home from work, walking into my office, and finding me hunched over a keyboard): What'cha doing?

    Me: Updating my resume, AGAIN!

    Her: You should be writing your book.

    Me: Everyone (and their Mother) is writing a book.

    Her: Yeah, but they're not writing YOUR book. 

    Me: Who would read it?

    Her: Me, my friends love your writing, a lot of people think your words are inspirational, and you have a story to tell, right Heather?

    Middle girl (passing through to use the bathroom): What?

    Oldest girl: Mom's book.

    Middle girl: Oh, yeah, JUST WRITE IT, ALREADY!

    So, I'm filing this post under "Who's Parenting Who" and setting a daily reminder to "JUST WRITE IT, ALREADY," because the fear of failure is pretty much like succumbing to defeat and I am NOT going to let THAT BITCH define me — if I fail, IT WILL BE ON MY OWN TERMS, DAMMIT!

    [rolls up sleeves, blows bangs out of eyes]

    Moral of the Story: Intention-throwing is hard, man. 

    Don't waste your time on shit that doesn't stick, or something like that, yo!

  • How To Live A Good Story, Just Write

    Evie.10.8.19Since you've been gone, Evelyn Grace Thompson has happened, and she's got her Nagy Papa's eyes, too.

    I sat down and logged into my blog, for the first time in a very long while, and found a post sitting in draft mode for more than 2 years: A funny parody of Children's Songs I was attempting to adapt for the Sandwich Generation: Think "The Wheels on the Bus" as "The Wheels on the Rollater," going round, and round.

    Which I finally deleted (frankly, there's nothing funny about getting old) and then I found myself deleting more than typing—because now, everything I attempt to write sounds really stupid…or a rambling bunch of dumb…which is also stupid…and JEEZUS, I MISS MY DAD!

    It's been exactly 743 days since I watched my Father take his last breath, while holding his hand and reassuring him that he lived life well, as his last words to me were, “I wrote a real good story, yes?”

    You know how people say coping with loss and grief gets easier with time?

    Yeah, NO, it doesn't. Life goes on, yes. Without my Dad.

    In fact, SO MUCH of life has gone on since his passing:

    • We’ve helped my Mom through open heart surgery
    • Stood by our Son as he recited his marriage vows
    • I accepted a position at “my dream job” that allowed me to visit Paris for the first time
    • Left that same job to help take care of my Mom
    • Celebrated our youngest graduating from high school
    • Grieved over the sudden loss of my Father-In-Law
    • Welcomed our first Grandbaby to the clan

    Each and every moment I could have and would have blogged about, but did not—because, honestly, it's ALWAYS felt TOO SOON, without my Dad.

    And then I realized something (because, I'm also quick like that): Life continues to move at a fast pace, but there isn’t a minute that goes by that I don't feel the ache of something missing…or think to myself…DAMN, but Apu would’ve LOVED this moment…because, as much as I’d like to believe that time heals a broken heart, no one LOVED and LIVED LIFE as HARD as my Dad.

    HOWEVER, here's the thing: The thing is, my Father's story is far from over, it continues with us.

    Soooo, in an effort to try and follow through on my promise to my him, I'm going to start blogging life (again) and just write—no matter how dumb or stupid I may think it sounds—I mean, MANY of you guys already know HOW MUCH that man LOVED TO LIVE IN UPPERCASE!

    Okay? Okay. Pull up a cloud, Apu.

    Here we go, LIVING LIFE IN UPPERCASE!

  • That Time My Page Got Kicked Offa Facebook, And Made Me Thankful For Google Photos, ALMOST!

    I received a notification from Facebook recently, letting me know that…HEY!!!…we're going to delete this page you created, forever ago…because WE ARE FACEBOOK…and whatever Facebook wants, FACEBOOK GETS, right?!?! At first, I was all…meh, there hasn't been any activity on this particular page since 2010…and A LOT has happened, since then…soooo, who cares…g'head, deeeeeeleeeeeete it!!! And then, the logical more smarter part of my brain kicked in (yes, it DOES exist!) and something inside me said….hey, DUMBASS!!!….maybe you should click on over and see what got Facebook all…WE'RE KICKING YOUR PAGE OFFA FACEBOOK…you know…just in case.

    Glen_2010

    Hey look! The year I let my son color the top of his head blue, because it's funny to think that he's halfway through boot camp now, but I am and always will be THAT mom!

    OMG! I totally forgot about TFH Photoblog - started in 2009, when photo journals were ALL the rage (and Facebook was still a toddler), using the BESTEST, AWESOMEST, I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S NOT BUTTER, not to mention, ABSOLUTELY FRIGALICIOUS camera…EVUH!!!…gifted to us from GarthNHRN…back when people still used cameras and…you know…we actually had spending money.

    Riptide

    I called this one, Riptide — dang, that was pretty clever of me (WAS SO!) 

    I then remembered about Google photos and…HEY!!!…there is a whole BUNCH of stuff backed-up and stored over there, too…in fact, there's quite a few my kids would NEVER appreciate my posting…as much as I do…RIGHT NOW!!!

    Girls Room 1 Girls Room 2
    Like that one time…in 2013…when we repainted the girls' room and it was SUPER-clean…for about a week…ahhhhhhh…THOSE were the good old daze, my friends!!!

    Jim Craig and Me

    1980 U.S. Hockey Olympic Gold Medalist Jim Craig and…ummmmm…well, you know, I don't know who THAT weirdo standing next to him is, sheesh, what a dork!

    Oh, and that time I met MY teenage crush, Jim Craig…look it up, youngsters…which brings to mind ALL of the awesome opportunities and partnerships I've worked towards, as a blogger, since the beginning of time…including my current full-time job…thanks to this here blip in the blogosphere…BUT…I still look good, DANGIT!!!

    Doofy

    The last time Doofus visited with my parents, to help celebrate my Dad's birthday last year, because he was SUCH a good dog, we miss you, Doofy!

    And then there are photos that pull at my heart strings…LIKE A VIRTUAL TUG OF WAR…because who knew these little moments would one day bring on HUGE feelings of joy and gratitude, ALL THE FEELS, captured in one photograph.

    I think it's also NO small coincidence that today happens to be Throwback Thursday, weird, right?!? RIGHT?!? Riiiiiiiight. And just think, if it wasn't for Facebook YELLING AT ME, on a Throwback Thursday, I maybe would've missed this opportunity to stop, drop, and scroll through a decade's worth of This Full House. All the feels. ALL OF THEM!

    Because one day…not too far into the distant future…these kids will have kids of their own and…well…my extremely-spoiled grandchildren (by me, of course!) will thank their [insert some really cool and hip grandparent-like term of endearment, I haven't come up with yet, here] for giving them the opportunity to get to know what their parents were really like…when they were annoying…I mean…tweens and teens…BUT NOT JUST YET!!!

    In the meantime, if anyone needs me, I'll be sitting here watching this video I found of Glen, taken during one of our family hikes this past Spring, when he tried to walk on slightly frozen water — it's been 7 weeks since he left, it's hard to believe he's already halfway through boot camp — I imagine he'll think worrying about getting his sneakers wet lame now, because Marines, OOHRAH!!

    Related articles
    Everyone has a story, here's yours!
    Don't Break My Heart…My Icky, Sticky Heart…
    Teenagers, You Goth To Love Them!

  • Finding OUR Waldo

    Our son signed up to become a Marine, at the beginning of his senior year of high school, through their early enlistment program, which means we've had almost a full year to prepare for Glen's departure – although it seems like yesterday I grounded him until boot camp. 

    19399266_1462569090429974_1231236675346829445_n

    Glen's recruiter, at Glen's high school graduation

    And we played out each day, with a little more reverence for military families, while trying to better understand and appreciate our son's life-long dream of serving in the military was going to happen, whether WE were ready or not.

    Still. I personally found myself feeling greedy and becoming even a bit needy – asking him to help me with the food shopping, or convincing him…why, YES!!!…I would feel MUCH better, if he would join me in an early evening walk…growing greedier and needier, every step of the way.

    Thisfullhouse2017

    Our "group graduation gift" to Glen was a weekend family getaway to D.C.

    On the day he shipped out, the six of us set our alarms for 3:00 a.m. and spent the next 90 minutes waiting for Glen's recruiter to arrive at the house – it was one of the worst and best mornings of my life.

    The girls and I sat around the kitchen table, all bleary-eyed from cry-laughing, while Glen and his Dad tested each other's endurance for dead arm punches and purple nurples, because boyzzzzzz will be boyzzzzzz.

    Sunrise

    Saying goodbye to Glen was hard – heralding a new beginning for our Son, by welcoming the sun, not so much.

    The girls suggested we go to the beach to watch the sun rise, in an attempt to distract us from all the, well, you know.

    If you were to ask me to describe what it was like watching Glen walk out the front door…knowing we wouldn't be able to see or speak with him…I mean, no phone calls, no emails, no Skype, no texts…nothing more than an occasional snail mail…for the next 13 weeks…well, it's sort of like me asking you to hold your breath…for as long as you can…and then punching you in the gut.

    Mailbox

    First letter has been written and is on its way to boot camp!!!

    Every day, my husband lets me be the first to check the mailbox, hoping TODAY will be the day we hear from Glen – nope.

    It's been 12 days and, although we've received word from his DI (drill instructor) that he's doing fine, no letter from Glen, but it's okay, he's sort of busy, I guess.

    My husband and I have joined a couple of Facebook groups in support of parents and family members who have recruits attending the same boot camp as Glen. Here's the really cool part – every week, the parents attending boot camp graduation take photos of other recruits training around the camp and, as a courtesy to new military parents, post these photos to the Facebook group, hoping we'll catch a glimpse of our recruit, with captions like, "Find Your Waldo!" and "More Waldos!

    Waldo Sighting First

    w, that first kid in line is REAL tall…heyyyyy…wait a minute…there's no mistaking that cleft chin and those flared Thompson nostrils…OMG!!!…that's MY kid!!!

    We've found four additional sightings, this week!!! And we'll probably continue spending every evening, scrolling through thousands of photos, and texting each other…this sort of looks like him, yes?!?…for the next 11 weeks…and then it'll be OUR turn to pay it forward and help other parents find their Waldos…because that's what you do for family…besides, what's another kid or eleventy-hundred, right?!?!

    Related articles
    Everyone has a story, here's yours!
    Don't Break My Heart…My Icky, Sticky Heart…
    They Say Humor Helps Your Heart, Mine Is Cry-Laughing!

  • What’s That Smell?

    If you were to ask me, as a parent of older kids, "What do you believe has been the MOST effective aspect of your parenting style?" I would need to be allowed some time (at least 48 hours) to be able to verbalize a coherent answer…BECAUSE TEENAGERS…and then…after thinking about it for 72 hours more…I would have to say…HUMOR!

    What I've lost in patience, my funny bone has grown exponentially, over the years, but NOT as much as my improper grammar usage <—- although, I nailed this run-on sentence (the misplaced modifier was unintentional) and my over use of comma splice is stellar, yo!

    Grammar
    Yesterday, our oldest had a doctor's appointment to discuss an issue that could've been much MUCH scarier (turns out, it's not as serious as we first thought, THANK GAWD!) and she asked me if I would go with her…you know…for moral support, because (raising four kids, and all four of their grandparents now dealing with a plethora of health issues, as well) I'm good with waiting room banter.

    "Phew, what's that smell?"

    Although I was asking the wrong person, because our oldest daughter has a terrible sense of smell, I really didn't need any validation — hello, my name is Liz and have you seen the SIZE of my nose?

    A few minutes pass, and my daughter is doing her best to pacify my insisting the whole room MUST smell what I'm smelling!

     "THERE! You smell it now?"

    I also have a bad habit of thinking out loud.

    "I don't smell anything."

    Now, I'm beginning to doubt myself, because the smell sort of comes in waves. I start stealthily sniffing myself. Nope, not me.

    "Honestly, it smells like poop!"

    I begin to look around the waiting room that is now filled with soon-to-be Moms, remembering how everything smelled absolutely awful when I was pregnant, I mean they HAVE to smell what I'm smelling!

    "Maybe it's just my imagination."

    THERE IT IS, AGAIN!

    "Okay, you guys HAVE to smell that!"

    [sound of crickets, chirping]

    Clearly, these poor women are not accustomed to waiting room banter, but a couple of trips to the pediatrician should ease them into it, nicely.

    Or maybe I need to add "phantosmia" to my ever-growing list of weird crap my body has been going through, literally, lately?

    OH WAIT, then I remembered the woman who walked by us with her little boy to use the bathroom.

    "I'm going to go check the bathroom."

    AH-HAH!

    I walked up to where the receptionist was sitting, knocked on her window and whispered, "Someone left a soiled diaper in the bathroom," to which EVERYONE chimed in:

    • So, THAT'S what that smell was!
    • Ohhhhhh man, NOW I SMELL IT!
    • I was trying to breath through my mouth!
    • Smells like that kid has a healthy appetite!

    And my favorite, being:

    • "OMG! I thought maybe it was "our" imagination."

    Moral of the Story: Never underestimate the power of our olfactory receptors, because we Moms are bound to become the collective brain trust of bad smells!

    [sound of crickets, choking]

    Stupid nose, dumbass diapers.

    Related articles
    Everyone has a story, here's yours!
    Don't Break My Heart…My Icky, Sticky Heart…
    They Say Humor Helps Your Heart, Mine Is Cry-Laughing!

  • Desperately Seeking Adultier Adults, Since 2003!

    I've been blogging for a while — like the equivalent of a Jurassic period of time, in Internet years — and man have things changed since those early days of dialing in and waiting more than a nano-second for your modem to connect, I could:

    • Clean up breakfast
    • Take a shower
    • Or not
    • And then eat MY breakfast, for lunch

    And I'd still have time to pick my two oldest up from pre-school, before FINALLY getting online!

    via GIPHY

    For my first blog post of 2017, however, I'm going to attempt to do what I've done for the last 13 years — THIRTEEN years, that's a WHOLE teenager, you guys! —  I'm going to continue to share stuff that will hopefully help OTHER folks feel WAY better about themselves.

    via GIPHY

    Because adulting is hard, right?!?! Not to mention, when you're already sharing valuable head space with other adults, successfully adulting adultier adults, RIGHT?!?! 

    [passes remote control, hugs throw pillow a little tighter]

    Riiiiiiiiiight.

    [cracks knuckles, blows side bangs out of eyes]

    You've heard of Pregnancy Brain, right?!? How about Mommy Brain, or maybe Momnesia?!? Yep, I feel it pretty safe to say we've each experienced bouts of forgetfulness; however, did you know that the severity of these bouts increases exponentially by the number of kids you have living in your house, at the time?!? For example:

    • Kid #1: Note to self — remember to order multiple copies of school pics, one for each season, because…OMG!…soooooo cute!
    • Kid #2: Note to self — maybe order the Spring pics only, because…well…they've GROWN SO MUCH since September…and they seemed to have gotten a little more pricey (the pics AND the kids) and the Spring pics really DO have the prettiest backgrounds.
    • Kid #3: DAYUM, SCHOOL PICS ARE 'SPENSIVE!!!
    • Kid #4: Wait, what grade are you in, again?!?!

    So, today I remembered to order Glen's (a.k.a. Kid #3) senior photos.

    Glen As A Senior, I think

    Glen's senior pic, I think!

    Because I just found the reminder (hiding on top of the printer, with the rest of the incoming mail) and we're late (with ordering pics, not like late late, because NO MORE PREGNANCY BRAIN FOR ME!), we're 2 months past the DEADLINE, but I felt ZERO guilt when hearing my husband on the phone with the studio, because DAYUM SCHOOL PICS ARE 'SPENSIVE!

    Garth(NHRN): I paid them the balance and they're going to mail the pics to us!

    [blank stare]

    Me: Great, and if the grandparents happen to ask about them in a couple of months, I'll know EXACTLY where to look!

    Long story, short: I'm sorry to have to tell you that adulting does NOT get any easier, especially when adulting adult and almost-adult kids, BUT you DO become more forgiving, especially with yourself, so there's that!

    On the other hand: Don't let someone make you feel like you're not doing this whole adult thing right, because THEIR KIDS will probably grow up to believe they've been doing it ALL wrong too, anyway – YOU'RE WELCOME!!!

    On the OTHER other hand: My kids feel real lucky whenever I do get their names right AND thank goodness Kid #4 has made it to her sophomore year…in one piece…or at least, I'm pretty sure she's a sophomore…ahem.

    [sound of crickets, chirping]

    Stupid school photos, dumbass adulting.

  • Yes, My Daughter And I Love Kinky Boots And OMG, TODRICK HALL!

    I was excited to have been invited to attend an evening performance of Kinky Boots The Musical on Broadway last week, and absolutely thrilled about my being allowed to bring a guest, so I asked my 15-year old if she would like to join me, you know, for a Mother/Daughter Broadway date, or something.

    Todrick-Hall-as-Lola-in-Kinky-Boots-2-cJenny-Anderson

    Todrick Hall (c)Matthew Murphy

    OMG!!!…was her response, followed by…TODRICK HALL!!!…and then…OMG, TODRICK HALL!!!…and this is about the time I started to feel really, really excited about these tickets…beeeeecause…OMG, 15-YEAR OLDS ALMOST NEVER SMILE…and…OMG, MY 15-YEAR OLD CANNOT STOP SMILING!!! 

     

    Rainstorm or nah, #KinkyBoots here we come! #motherdaughtergoals

    A photo posted by Liz Thompson (@thisfullhouse) on

    So, whose idea was Kinky Boots, and why should EVERY teenager (and future parents of teenagers) see it?

    Aaron-C-Finley-Todrick-Hall-and-Cast-2cMatthew-Murphy

    The cast of Kinky Boots (c)Matthew Murphy

    I'll be totally honest with you, not having read the book (written by Harvey Fierstein) and never having seen the British movie (inspired by true events, which were broadcast in a British television documentary in 1999), I was a bit nervous about the story line, because…you know…kinky boots. So, I did what EVERY parent of most teenagers would do — I hit up Google. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that there is a fascinating human story behind those red and awesomely-glittery kinky boots…not to mention, the music and lyrics were written by…OMG, CYNDI LAUPER!!! 

    Aaron-C-Finley-Todrick-Hall-and-Cast-cMatthew-Murphy

    The cast of Kinky Boots (c)Matthew Murph

    In Kinky Boots, Charlie Price (at the time of our showing, Aaron C. Finley) reluctantly takes over his family’s failing shoe factory in Northern England, following the sudden death of his father. Help comes from the unlikeliest angel, a fabulous drag performer named Lola (OMG!…TODRICK HALL!). Together, this improbable duo not only revitalizes the nearly bankrupt business, but helps one another grow into the men their fathers always dreamed their sons would become and transforms an entire community through the power of acceptance.

    Todrick-Hall-and-Angels-cMatthew-Murphy

    Todrick Hall and the Angels (c)Matthew Murphy

    I was raised on Broadway show tunes, and so were my kids — I feel it safe to say all four can name (and sing) quite a few family-favorites, in 5 notes or less — and the choreography behind Kinky Boots was indeed stellar, it did NOT disappoint, plenty of Broadway glitz and glam for everyone!

    Haven-Burton-cMatthew-Murphy-email

    Haven Burton (c)Matthew Murphy

    HOWEVER, my friends, here's the thing. The thing is, Kinky Boots is more than just a Broadway show…it's a lesson in humanity, this show has a HUGE heart, plain and simple. I found myself SO WRAPPED UP in the story line, I mean, the characters were SO VERY relatable, I felt as if I knew each and every one of these people, for real — Haven Burton, who played Lauren, had me snort-laughing, I wanted to be her new BFF, throughout the show. 

    Todrick-Hall-cMatthew-Murphy

    Todrick Hall (c)Matthew Murphy

    I kept looking over at my 15 year-old, to see if she was enjoying herself, but her face was blank (just so you know, 15 year-olds excel at blank-face), and then I basically sobbed through Todrick Hall's entire solo performance of Hold Me In Your Heart – this song speaks to ANYONE who's ever struggled with acceptance (raises hand), or who's fighting with forgiveness (raises other hand), and this is where I decided that…YES!!!…Todrick Hall is absolutely BRILLIANT!

    The best part of the evening? Thanks to my friend, Holly (who also invited us to the show and is responsible for this magical experience — thank you, Holly!) who pointed out the stage door and suggested Hope and I make time to wait and see if we could get an autograph (and possibly a photograph) from Todrick Hall.

     

    I look kinda rough in this but i met Todrick Hall yesterday!!! Kinky Boots was such an amazing show spreading the idea of just be yourself and dont care what other people think. Now for the sentimental part: Todrick Hall has been my idol for years now. Todrick was the person who taught me to be myself and to stop caring what people thought and to not be afraid to be unique and different. He signed my playbill and smiled at me and looked in my eyes when talking and put his arm around me for the picture!! I got ten steps away and had to go to the side wall cuz i was shaking and hyperventilating from just meeting my role model and idol 😂 not gonna lie i cried when i got home and im still trying to wrap my head around meeting him and just oh my god last night was the happiest and best day ever! Walking ten blocks from penn to broadway in the pouring rain was so worth it! #kinkyboots

    A photo posted by Hope Anne Thompson (@hopeannne) on

    And I would walk another ten city blocks…in the pouring rain…wearing a pair of kinky boots…just to see my 15-year old smile…not to mention, my having been a part of her happiest and best day…EVER!!!

    —————————————————————–

    Here's the really best part, we get to share our love of Kinky Boots and offer a special discount code to you (yes, YOU!) you should really go see it:

    Save up to 40% on select performances through 2/12/17!
     
    Visit kinkybootsthemusical.com and use code BOOTS3. 
     
    OFFER DETAILS:
    Mon, Tues, Thurs performances through 2/12/17
    $87*
    Select Orch/Front Mezzanine
    (Reg. $99-117)
     
    $45*
    Rear Mezzanine 
    (Reg. $79-$97)

    Friday, Sat, & Sun performances through 2/12/17
    $107*
    Select Orch/Front Mezzanine

    (Reg. $109-$147)
     
    $75*
    Rear Mezzanine
    (Reg. $79-$97)

    Conditions:

    Offer valid on select seats. Blackout dates may apply. Offer valid for all performances now through 2/12//17. This offer cannot be combined with any other discount and is not applicable to previously purchased tickets. Regular Prices $55-$147. Limit 8 tickets per order. All sales are final. No refunds or exchanges. Offer subject to availability and includes a $2.00 facility fee. Normal phone and Internet service charges apply. Offer may be modified or revoked at any time without notice. 
    And please, for the love of all things red and sparkly, take a moment to check out the True Colors Fund, because creating a world in which young people can be their true selves is totally worth a minute…or twenty…thank you!
     
    Disclosure: I received two tickets to see Kinky Boots. No other consideration or payment was received for this blog post.

  • Eggs Are Stupid, Let’s Throw Husbands At Them!

    My husband, Garth (not his real name) and I have been married for…uhhhhhh…okay, so we've been married for nearly…ummmmm…a lot of years, however, we still sometimes experience ah-HAH moments, you know, liiiiiike enjoying a quiet morning walk before work, while I try and figure out my travel schedule and my husband goes through our meal plan for the week, and…whoa…we're both all…maaaaan, but how our lives have changed, eh?

    My husband has taken over a lot of the cooking and it's not like I don't know HOW to cook (been doing it since I was 10!), now I just sometimes forget.

    "You want me to hard boil some eggs for breakfast?"

    Two of our kids are home sick and, trust me, I know that they're old enough to take care of themselves, NO DOUBT, but I was raised by a Hungarian Grandmother (and Mother), who…at the first cough or sniffle…would break out their mental list of old world remedies, half of which my kids should be VERY happy I've forgotten about.

    "Des, pleabe!"

    I put up a pot of water to boil and then grab an entire dozen…of eggs…because there are half-a-dozen of us currently living here AND my kids have mastered the art of sharing…especially, viruses!!!…and then I break out my fool-proof hard boiled egg recipe:

    • Put eggs into a pot of water
    • Bring eggs to boil
    • Remove pot from heat
    • Cover and let the eggs sit for twenty minutes

    "There's a trick to peeling these, watch!"

    I grab the pot to show my middle girl the trick to peeling hard boiled eggs, and then my husband walks into the kitchen.

    "You know, there's a trick to peeling those…"

    Here's the thing.

    "YES! I KNOW THE TRICK!"

    The thing is, I know my husband has been doing A LOT of the cooking, and the food shopping, and the everything else-ing that I used to do, and yes, I am blessed he wants to help…BLESSED!…but I already KNOW the trick to peeling hard boiled eggs!

    "Empty the water, cover the pot, and shake the eggs around, like this!"

    And it WOULD have worked, if I had remembered to set the timer.

    Fool-boiled eggs

    Aaaaaand, THIS is what hard boiled eggs are NOT supposed to look like!

    *DROPS MIC*

    The end.

  • Why Did I Let My Kid Shred My Hair?

    Our youngest cut her own hair when she was 3 years-old (the only one of our four to ever do that, by the way), because being the youngest can be really hard, you know? Unless you have (and know how to rock) a pair of pink cowgirl boots, of course! 

    Garth (not his real name) and I have always tried really hard to help our kids cultivate their own sense of style (i.e., point them toward the clearance racks and just get out of their way), however, Hope had fully-grasped her sense of…um…uniqueness at a very young age.

    3693478723_91f2806c5f_b

    Still, it's hard to be the youngest, feeling like you're constantly following along in someone else's footsteps can be a bit lonely, even in a houseful, sometimes. Our baby girl has gone through many transformations in her 15 years of being…ummmm…Hope.

    Her Goth stage was the most…errrrr…interesting…and don't EVEN think about bringing up her shockingly pink hair…because, well, it's just not shocking enough, anymore, DANGIT!

    "LORT?!? Why did you EVER let me wear my hair like that?!?"

    As if I ever had a choice. Hope has always been a free spirit = she is my hippy-child. Still, it's real difficult for her to NOT allow her free-thinking to feed into all the draaaah-maaaah and, well, YOU COULDN'T PAY ME ENOUGH TO BE FIFTEEN, AGAIN or GO BACK TO HIGH SCHOOL, am I right?!?!

    Hope

    After 20+ years of parenting, I feel it safe to say that self-esteem issues are best cultivated when you try to look like everyone else. And I may have mentioned this to my kids, once or twenty times, every day, especially to my girls.

    Still, behind all the selfies and Snapchat filters, you can't hide the fact that growing up female is complicated enough (why IS this STILL happening?!?), especially when you're a Mom.

    On the one hand, we preach self-esteem to our children, and on the other hand, our own confidence eludes us, the moment we see it in someone else. Why IS that?!?

    On the OTHER other hand, intellectually, most of us already understand it to be a defense mechanism…LORT!!!…how we women compare ourselves to each other…eh?

    "And I am in desperate need of a haircut!"



    Hope aspires to be a hair and makeup artist and, well, somehow she doesn't believe that my husband and I think it's a worthy-enough profession, because teenagers tend to put words into their parents' mouths and they really do think the silliest thoughts, sometimes.

    Hair by Hope

    "I love the idea of helping other women feel good about how they look AND maybe feel a little better about themselves and myself, too!" ~ Hope

    And that's why I let my kid cut my hair.

    The end.

    P.S. It's actually "shred" not "cut" and I stand (I mean, sit) corrected, yo!

    Related articles
    Everyone has a story, here's yours!
    Don't Break My Heart…My Icky, Sticky Heart…
    They Say Humor Helps Your Heart, Mine Is Cry-Laughing!

  • Grounded Until Boot Camp

    It's been 36 minutes, since I hugged my son and wished him luck, reassuring him "not to worry," and "you got this," as I followed him through our front door and watched him get into his recruiter's car. I then proceeded to spend the next 36 minutes reliving the last 17 years, as parents do, with every passing milestone, I suppose.

    However, this time, Garth (not his real name) isn't home to reassure me that "he'll be fine," and there's really "no need to cry," because he's staying at my parents' house, helping to take care of my Dad and getting him to his dialysis appointments, and then taking him to visit with my Mom in a sub-acute facility (she's recovering from a real bad fall), while I continue to work from home, until the weekend, when we switch places and, well, the last six weeks haven't been easy on any of us.

    "I don't feel like you guys are here for me."

    Most especially, our son.

    "I talk about my enlistment and all you do is shake your head and look sad."

    I have had sooooo many thoughts and opinions about my son's imminent enlistment into the Marine Corps, but I've been pretty much keeping them to myself.

    "I don't feel like you support my decision."

    Until now.

    Needless to say, my husband and I are very proud of Glen and, as an American born of immigrants, I'm humbled by our son's dedication to "honoring his Grandparents and all their hard work, wanting a better life for future generations" (those were my son's exact words, when explaining his desire to enlist, during our interviews with each of the military branches).

    "We've done everything we can to help you get here, haven't we?"

    Keeping every deep, dark and terribly awful fear imaginable from creeping out of my heart and slithering its way up onto my face, not so much.

    "So yes, I'm sad. And afraid. Just as your training will involve learning how to protect others, while protecting yourself, you're going to be a pretty tall target, and there will be people whose job will be to try and kill you."

    I was being brutally honest with him, and myself, because it's been 60 years since my parents first set foot on American soil and danged if it doesn't seem like the world is moving backwards, we're ALL standing on shaky ground, right?!?!

    "As your Mom, my first and foremost wish has always been for you to be happy."

    It's hard sometimes, you know? Pretending to be fearless. Especially for someone who wears her heart on her sleeve…[raises hand]…not without leaving a permanent dent on my face, I mean.

    "And your father and I will always fear for your safety (okay, mostly me), but do NOT mistake that as our being unsupportive."

    So, I set my alarm for 4:00 a.m., which every parent reading this will undoubtedly understand it to have been unnecessary, as I was awake for most of the night and I finally gave up on sleep when my son's alarm went off at 3:00 a.m., as we sat together, in a mostly dark and quiet house, waiting for him to take his next steps towards gaining his independence and logging in another sleepless night for me and his Dad.  

    36 minutes later, I became >this< much closer to graciously accepting my new role as a military mom…as reasonably and as calmly as possible, at 5 o'clock in the morning, I mean…so, yeah, there isn't a parent prouder than I am of you…RIGHT THIS MINUTE…my son…AND DO NOT EVER FORGET IT…or consider yourself grounded until boot camp!!!

    Edited to add text received from my husband, GarthNHRN: Your post sounds like he's going now. You should make it clear this is a medical and he doesn't go until next summer.

    Okay?!?! Soooo, we good?!?! Good!!! Which pretty much guarantees you guys another post, next August, you're welcome!!!

     

    Related articles
    Teenagers, You Goth To Love Them!
    He's Army Strong, Mom's Still in Training
    The Growth Plates