This Full House Archive

Category: Glen

At Our House, It’s Called a Blood Drive-By

As a mother of 3 teens, 1 kid in double-digits and Supreme Goddess of All Things Domestic (in my house, anyways) I feel it safe say that there is NOTHING worse than battling a foreign object, invading your child's body, that you canNOT see.

3yo Heather: Hey…wook…isn't that where you gave bwud, How-wee?

Unless, you have to take said child to have their blood drawn and, well, game over dude!

5yo Holly/How-wee: I didn't give it…Heatherrrrr…THEY TOOK IT!

Even years later, my two oldest daughters would play out this same conversation, every time we'd drive by the building, where they each got their "bwud tooken" and, well, How-wee…I mean…Holly will tell you…YES!..it was THAT traumatic.

[pulls up sleeve]

Me: Dude…they won't take your blood here.

I took my son to the doctor, yesterday. Long story, short (you're welcome) he's got a nasty case of some sort of creeping crud she couldn't quite identify and, well, now it was his turn to have his "bwud tooken".

Me: We have to go…you know…[whispers]…to that OTHER place.

[eyes go wide]

This is the kid that doesn't get sick. He's only heard stories, from his oldest sisters, whenever we would drive by the place where they had their blood…you know…tooken.

Receptionist: Name?

Me: Glen [whispering] he's never had his blood…tooken…I mean…taken.

The receptionist just nodded her head and, thankfully, the place was empty. Except for this one kid, going ALL ape sh*t, and his sh*thead father:

Kid, going ALL ape sh*t: BWAAAAAAAAH!!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!! NOOOOOOOO!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!

His sh*thead father: SHUDDUP!!!! SHUDDUP!!! SHUDDUP!!!

So, my son and I just sat down and…you know…covered our ears.

Medical Asst.: Glen?

It was funny to watch the receptionist's face, as he stood up and she handed my son a cup. I swear, you could actually hear her neck muscles pop.

Medical Asst.: You can leave it on the bathroom sink and then go right into Room #1.

[eyes go wide]

Medical Asst.: Oh relax, your friends probably hit you harder than this is gonna hurt!"

Thank goodness for kind-hearted medical assistants, right?

Glen: Buuuuuut, no one said ANYTHING about peeing in a cup!

[blink-blink-blink]

Me: Well, I didn't think it would be SUCH a big deal.

[voice cracking]

Glen: Buuuuuut, it's a really small cup!

Judging by the way the she was laughing…I guessed correctly…the medical assistant was a mother AND happened to have a teen boy at home…too.

Stupid blood tests, dumbass creeping crud.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

FRESHLY-BREWED ELSEWHERE: I'm over at PlaydatePlace.com this week, confessing not teaching my kids how to ride a bike. Also, sharing a recipe for Angel Food Cake that does NOT suck!

May 15, 2012
Aaaaand, Now For More “Break Curfew and I’ll Show This Video to Your Girl/Boyfriend!” Blog Fodder

My son's voice is changing. A lot. It's okay, he knows he sounds funny. So, I shot this quick video while hunting for apple cider donuts during spring break, last week.

Aaaaand, now I'm sorta mad at myself for not thinking of doing something like this back when I first started blogging…9 years ago…when he was 4 years-old (I think) because it would have made for some really awesome "Break curfew and I'll show this video to your girlfriend!" blog fodder.

So, I video-taped my youngest for good measure. You know, seeing as the kid is 10…going on 29…and most likely eloping, getting married jumping out of an airplane, or something involving the use of some sort of underwater breathing apparatus, anyway.

Then, she can send me THAT video and we'll go ahead and just call it even.

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Want a donut? I skinned it and everything!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 17, 2012
Don’t Mess With Mother Nature, She Probably Has Teens

The kids have been on spring break since Friday and, since my oldest is scheduled to work this week/weekend and needs the car to, you know, get there (it's about a 30 minute ride down the Parkway, in Jersey speak) we're pretty much rooted close to home.

By yesterday afternoon 2 out of 4 of them weren't speaking to each other (because, girls are pretty much women in training, just so you know) the boy and I needed some fresh air. Also, the roast had about another hour left. So, we took Doofus-dawg for a quick walk before dinner.

It also gave us (meaning, the boy and me) a chance to talk, reconnect and perhaps address a few issues (because, teenagers, they hazem) that otherwise may have gotten lost or mixed in with the rest of the miss-matched socks in the house…YO!

We've weathered some pretty bad storms, lately (literally and figuratively speaking) and Mother Nature hasn't been very kind to our neighborhood, either.

Hurricane Irene reduced one of their favorite paths, once a bridge into a fairy world filled with magical possibilities, as a place to be feared, neglected and left totally abandoned.

No matter how many times we changed our direction, we were reminded of just how fragile our world has become and my son was trying really hard to understand why I would want to take pictures of such random things.

I tried to explain with this broken sidewalk. Yesterday it served as a medium for space travel. Who knows what story it will tell, tomorrow?

I don't know if it stuck. The boy is only 13. Also, he asked that I stop taking pictures so that we could get home and check to see if dinner was ready and, well, 13 year-old boys really do get hungry, A LOT.

"Hey, but thanks for the walk mom."

Aaaaand, next time, I'm thinking about dying my hair purple.

"My head feels a whole lot better."

Mine too, enough said.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 11, 2012
HALP! There’s ANOTHER Teenager in the House!

I remember when I first became the mother of a teenager — which, considering my oldest girl is 18 now (SOB!) truly is an amazing thing (that I even remember it, I mean!)

Then my middle girl turned 13 and, well, any thoughts of my ever regaining full brain function flew right out the front door, along with the Christmas tree.

Today, at precisely 2:05 a.m., my son joined the ranks of teenage-dom and not for nothing (word to Jenn) this time, it's different.

What a difference a year makes, eh?

I have to tell the boy to scootch down in order to scold him and, well, that's just not right, you know?

I'm 5' 9". Enough said.

CURRENT COUNT: Teens outnumber tweens 3 to 1 (HALP!) the latest having grown very adept at out-grossing his sisters with very realistic sounding fart noises during a sleepover with a few of his AXE-infused buddies, this past weekend.

At least, I think they were pretending. I was too busy trying not to puke and/or keep my head from exploding. I still don't think the girls are quite over it.

Me, either.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and scrape a few of my brain cells from off of the ceiling and THEN maybe I can figure out a way to convince my 10 year-old daughter that burping the alphabet, during dinner with her grandparents, is SO NOT funny.

According to my son, blowing milk out of your nose during a conversation and pretending like it is NOT EVEN happening is way funnier.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

January 23, 2012
It’s Nothing Personal, It’s Strictly B.O.

Imma gonna beat your Axe!

This is my son's second year wrestling for the middle school and even his sisters have pretty much grown accustomed to all the hollering and cris-crossing of bendy parts, hoping their baby brother does NOT break a limb, or something.

Not on their watch, anyway.

"THROW HIM DOWN!!!!"

I, however, have become much better at watching some other kid beat the living Axe out of my almost 13-year-old son.

Because, he hasn't wrestled anyone yet.

His team had a lot of kids move onto the high school and — taking into consideration that he's nearly as tall as I am — it seems there just aren't as many kids wrestling in my son's weight class, this year.

On the one hand, GREAT! There will be NO bloody noses or broken body parts, tonight!

"Maybe next week, bud."

Still, it must be just as frustrating for him to sit and stare at some other guy's backside — wearing a singlet, no less.

[cue mental etch-a-sketch]

Until, last night.

"THOMPSON!"

Here we go. I laced my fingers in front of my eyes. No, wait, that was so last year.

"C'MON!"

The kid was a lot shorter. However, in width, he was twice the size of my son.

"GET UP OFF THE MAT, GLEN!"

Try as he might, the boy spent the next 3 minutes breathing through one nostril and his face was purple by the time the match was blessedly called to an end.

"He was a real tough one…eh?"

[frowning]

"No! He stunk!"

I was trying to come up with something else that would help reassure my son that, you know, maybe…

"Literally, I took one whiff of him and I was DONE!"

…next time, he should spray himself with a little Axe before each match or, better yet, wipe a little Vicks under his nose like some medical examinders do, or something.

Then again, perhaps his opponent was just using body odor as diversionary tactic, no?

Don't even get me started on cauliflower ear, ring worm and the bazillion other skin infections floating around out there…ICK!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

January 13, 2012
Nearly Wordless Wednesday:
Williamsburg, VA 2005

One of our most favorite places and yet we haven't been back since? Perhaps I can convince Garth (NHRN) for one last road trip before the oldest goes off to college, next fall (SOB!)

Oh, and I almost missed seeing my youngest, way over there on the right, she was so, so tiny (double-SOB!)

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

I'm NaBloPoMo-ing it, this month (first time NaBloPoMo-er) feel free to check out what I've NaBloPoMo-ed, thus far (PHEW!) and let me know how I'm doing (I mean, 30 posts, in 30 days, really?!?) when you have time, of course!

^{Feed me, see more!}

November 23, 2011
She Ain’t Heavy, She’s Like a Little Brother

My son was a little over 2 years-old when Hope was born. So, needless to say, Glen's toddlerhood is a bit of blur.

However, I do remember diapers (lots and lots of diapers) also, projectile vomitting played a pivotal role in my believing that I had lost my mind, along with the senses of smell and taste, FOREVER.

Long story short (you're welcome!) as far as my husband Garth (NHRN) and I were concerned, 4 was and still is our magic number: everyone has a riding buddy on the roller coaster.

Still, every year, my son would ask for a baby brother for Christmas or his birthday and most especially whenever Hope managed to get on his last nerve.

Which is when I would point out that Hope was very much like a little brother, already, really.

Today, she has NO trouble keeping up with her brother AND his friends, as evidenced by their conversation at the dinner table, Friday night.

(more…)

November 6, 2011
The Ghost of Halloween Parades Past

My oldest, her first Halloween in 1994, I dressed Holly as Little Bo Beep (sorry, Holly!)

Aaaaand, even Heather's face is all, like, seriously Mom?!?

Also, I'm pretty sure Glen is STILL not over the epic diaper wedgie he received from this ill-fitting-hand-me-down Tigger suit.

Which leads me to reason #71,928,099 why I will be fed a steady diet of strained carrots, in a nursing home, somewhere far, far, away.

(more…)

October 31, 2011
Wordless Wednesday: Stolen Kisses

When teen girls mess with a 12-year-old boy's cool: funny (i.e. future blackmail) family photos happen!

Happy (Nearly) Wordless Wednesday, everyone!

© 2003 – 2011 This FULL House

October 5, 2011
“Man”ifest Those Post Its, My Son

Glen is 12, going on boyteen and, being raised in a house, filled with females, he's grown used to navigating through a raging sea of hormones.

Also, rooting through an endless supply of feminine products, because, well, there has GOT to be a roll of toilet paper, in there, somewhere, DAGNABIT!

On the other hand, our house seems to be a breeding ground for random pieces of bar soap and I guess we could always recycle them into something fun and useful…but…EWWWW!

Aaaanyway, all bathroom issues aside (you're welcome!) my son remains light-hearted about growing up in a testosterone-ly-challenged environment…mostly.

Although, I do make a point of reminding him, that he is the ONLY person, in this house, who does NOT have to share a bedroom (doorless, as it is) with anyone.

So, I was upstairs helping my son put away his summer clothes (wishful thinking, I know) the majority of which do NOT fit, so we made a quick job of it, by the way (UGH!) when, a giant dust bunny rolled out from underneath his bed and scared our socks back to their original color.

Apparently, his version of "clean your room," is slightly different from mine, by definition (i.e. picking your clothes up from off the floor is clean enough) I blame his sisters.

One by one, we took stuff off, from on top of some other stuff, moved more stuff and, DANG, the boy REALLY didn't have as much room as, you know, I led everyone, here, to believe….sorry.

"Can we put any of this stuff in the garage sale?"

[shiver]

I know, I hate garage sales, too. Still. We need the room and he wants a new skateboard, so on and so forth.

"Sure, if you're ready to let it go."

It's not like when they were younger, when I waited until they were in school to get rid of stuff (sorry guys!)

Besides, I still remember feeling MORTIFIED when my mom found AND read my diary and, well, I really, really don't want to go there.

"Maybe we could move things around a bit, too."

Since, you know, Glen was at school, the last time I changed his room around, by myself…WHAT?…he was still in single digits, at the time (I think!)

FLASH FORWARD: 3 hours later (for real, I checked!)

TAH-DAHHHH…I helped Glen create his very own official man cave…please disregard the hearts and flowers border…it used to be my room…B.G. (before Glen) and, well, life is good, once again…or, at least, this one rainy weekend.

I took some clean clothes up this morning and saw that he's since included a bunch of post its on his mirror.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that it was his version of a vision board and, well, suffice it to say, we got to talking about a lot of stuff, in those 3 hours and, even though I would LOVE to show you, it's not my place to tell you.

Okay, just one: Stay focused.

I think it's a boy thing, but also admitted that, some adults, even parents (ahem!) have difficulty, dealing with too many distractions, so on and so forth.

[taking an even closer look]

Aaaand, there's this one: Get more Axe gel and deodorant!

It's okay, anyone who's raising a boyteen already knows why that particular "post it" was being referenced to, in the short term, of course!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

May 23, 2011