This Full House Archive

Category: Holidazed

George Bailey Meets Clark W. Griswold, Jr.

My husband, Garth (not his real name) works for a bank. Don't worry, he's still a really, really nice guy.

In fact, his customers think he's gosh-darned decent enough to switch from the much BIGGER bank he used to work for.

Previously known as, "the bank that shall not be named."

Now, he works for a small local community bank and I often times joke about my being married to George Bailey (look it up, youngsters) oh, and how my husband is REAL GOOD with OTHER people's money.

Still, I decided to invest in a new dress for their holiday party, seeing as I wore the same dress for the last 2 years and, even though I'd be hard-pressed to remember what the heck anyone else wore (unless it was REAL shiny or SUPER short!)

I took my 16 year-old dress shopping with me, just in case.

Okay, so it is a bit shorter and a whole lot shiny-er than I would have picked (did I mention, the kid is 16?)

Still, it was nice to be able to dress up and pretend like I know how to walk in heels, without fear of breaking my neck, climbing an elegantly-carpeted-and-ever-so-winding-staircase, on the way to the bathroom, for a few hours anyway.

Aaaaand, we had a really, really great time together (see pic at top of post) UNTIL!!!!

"BAH!!!! WTH??? THESE STUPID LIGHTS WERE WORKING YESTERDAY!?!"

When my husband, Garth (not his real name) tried to quickly finish putting up the Christmas lights before heading over to my parents' house for dinner and, well, have you seen the movie Christmas Vacation, yet?

"Maybe, I shoulda done a drum roll, or something?"

[blank stare]

George Bailey, meet Clark Griswold!

[sound of crickets]

I blamed the kids, don't judge.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

December 12, 2011
Feeding Your Inner-Grinch

You know what's annoying, besides the thought of people gifting Lexus-es and diamonds the size of my mortgage, I mean, or is that just me?

Oh, and those stupid "don't jiggle it, when you wiggle it" Old Navy commercials, I mean, seriously, isn't that the reason most people are wiggling it, in the first place?

Because, no amount of active wear is going to keep me from jiggling like a friggling vat of jello, most especially, from the knees up.

Condescending asshats.

Which brings me to my original point (I think) because, I really did start out having one.

[glances at wall calendar]

Oh yeah, now I remember. What IS it with people this time of year?

I get it. It's hard to feel all festive around the holidays, when life hands you a bag filled with crap and stuff.

Still. It's no excuse for folks to act like asshats, is it?

Like, walking across the parking lot at the mall yesterday (a death-defying act, here in Jersey, anyway) helping my SIL shop for new work clothes (she's doing fabulously well with her new wellness plan) and nearly getting run over (twice) by asshats who clearly saw us coming and hit the gas, anyway.

Maybe, because I was jiggling, when I should have been wiggling, no doubt, DAMNIT.

Aaaaand, that's another thing. What is wrong with jiggling? What if I like my jiggle? I mean, raising 2 teens and 2 pre-teens (soon to be 3 teens, hold me!) some of us work REAL HARD to look this jiggly.

Unlike, the poor woman I ran into at the grocery store (literally, vertically-challenged people should like carry a flag or something) as she was tearing into a box of protein bars.

"I didn't get a chance to eat, today."

It was nearly 4 o'clock in the afternoon and, well, been there, done that.

"Yeah, I hear ya', at least it's something healthy, right?"

Then, the poor woman insisted how she really "did eat more than a normal human being should," at Thanksgiving (didn't we all?) she also lost her job, right before Thanksgiving (UGH!) but, is thankful to have friends who will pay her to watch their children (sort of) and how, at this rate, she will NEVER get rid of the extra 10 pounds, yada, yada, yada.

Did I mention, she looked to be about 30 sizes smaller than me?

"Well, sounds like you have enough on your plate already."

[eyes go wide]

"I mean, maybe you should give yourself a break."

Honestly, why do we (mostly, women like you and me) put such pressure on ourselves, all the time? Especially, about our weight? Most especially, around the holidays?

"Sounds to me like you could use a real good hug, too."

She then apologized, telling me I had a nice face, for which I thanked her for, REAL HARD (lucky for me, she turned out to be a real good hugger, too) and then we went on our merry-ish way.

Morale of the Story: Don't judge a person by their jiggle (or, lack thereof) just wiggle alongside, even better, hug them REAL HARD instead, or something like that.

You know, thinking on it some more, maybe people aren't such asshats, afterall…just hungry.

[sound of crickets chirping]

Stupid holiday commercials, dumbass Old Navy.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

December 5, 2011
All Decked Out & No Place Like Home

Decking the halls, walls and/or anything that stood still long enough at my mother-in-law's house on Friday. But, wait, there's more!

Hope all decked-out and taking a well-deserved break before dinner guests arrived at our house, last night. But, not quite finished yet.

Because, today at their Mama's and Papa's house, the kids are getting REAL GOOD at trimming trees. Anyone else need any help? Got hot chocolate? A dozen cookies, or twenty?

Home again, all snuggled in my favorite chair and enjoying a hot cup of tea. Let the holidaze begin!

In the meantime, I'll be right ovuh-heh, unable to move until probably sometime mid-December…YO!

© 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 27, 2011
Where There Is Smoke, There is Dinner

My husband, Garth (NHRN) worked the last 2 weekends and spent Black Friday putting out one fire after another at the bank.

By the time he got home, well, you know that saying about getting away with poking the bear once? Nope. They lied. I just hope my eyebrows grow back by Christmas.

So, on penalty of dismemberment, I asked the kids to…please, for the love of all things holiday…let their father sleep in, this morning.

The kids insisted I wasn't telling them the truth.

"What's wrong with him? Is he sick? No, really, did you even check if he's still home?"

Because, they know he is the early-riser of their parental units (annoyingly pleasant, too) the fact that mom was up before dad, feeding the pets, making the coffee AND unloading the dishwasher…just…does…not…compute…before 7:00 a.m., even…wth?!?

After nearly 22 years of marriage (I know, we've been together longer than some of you have been alive and unromantically symbolized by copper, btw) I can't remember the last time he slept past 9:00 a.m., either.

Until, today.

"Good afternoon!"

So, of course, I spent the rest of the day reminding him how nice of me it was to allow him the 240 EXTRA MINUTES, to himself, all comfy cozy, while I put out one fire after another (in between dismembering teens and tweens, of course) and, you know, Merry Christmas early!

Besides, we were having company for dinner tonight and, considering EVERYONE is pretty much sick of turkey, by now, we decided to tag-team the food shopping.

Then, we put up our Christmas tree (who knew they would keep quiet long enough for me to keep my promise, DAGNABIT!) so, by the time I finished putting dinner in the oven, I was pretty much running on fumes.

BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP!

The smoke alarm went off while my 12 year-old son was playing Xbox with some of his friends.

"Dude, is your house on fire?!?"

[one beat, two beats]

"Nah, that just means dinner is ready."

It's been a loooooooooong day, my friends.

Tomorrow, we're off to help my parents put up their tree and only then will our holidaze be complete.

Or, as we like to say here in Jersey, "Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-friggin-la!"

In the meantime, if anyone needs me, I'll be upstairs, replacing the smoke alarms and trying to remember why in the hell I had children, again?!?

© 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 26, 2011
The Money Shot
My mother-in-law gave me simply the best compliment, yesterday.

"Your house is always so warm and inviting."

Seeing that it is basically held together with spit and Elmer's glue. Seriously, having tacked up the loose wallpaper on Thanksgiving Eve, I am not even kidding.

Stupid Hurricane Irene!

So, besides telling me that I look way thinner, it really was the nicest thing you could say to me, at the moment.

"I just don't have your energy, anymore."

What do you say to that? To a woman who, as long as I've known her and even way before then, has loved the holidays best?

In my head, I was thinking all of the possible responses (and this would be a real good time to thank goodness you are not in my head) like:
- Well, I am, like what, 40 years younger than you?
- Yes, but you should see me tomorrow morning?
- Did I mention, you are much older than I am?
Instead, I promised to help my mother-in-law put out some of her Christmas decorations, today.

"But, why do I have to go?"

Much to the dismay of my 12 year-old son.

"It would make her happy and I said so."

Because, I'm good with the reasoning like that.

Although he would never admit it (out loud) that is totally my son's, "Yeah, you were right, Mom" face.

I texted my middle girl this photo, who stayed home to rest (stupid migraines!) and honestly, we had SUCH a great time.

Then, on the way home, my son hollered, leaving me slightly deaf in my right ear.

"QUICK! Pull over, Mom!!"

In my head, I was thinking all of the possible reasons why (yadda, yadda) finally deciding that, having just passed some major roadkill, I had indeed waited too long to feed the boy.

Turns out, he just thought the sky was too awesome NOT to stop and take a closer look.

Aaaaand, he was right. It really was one of the prettiest sunsets I have ever seen.

But, this? Being able to see his warm and happy expression, right through the shadows? In my opinion, it is the money shot.

And, to think, we almost missed it, if it weren't for one simple little compliment.

Thanks, Mom!

© 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 25, 2011
Turkey Neck for Your Thoughts

We've hosted more than a dozen Thanksgivings (yes, on purpose!) however, this year marks a first.

We were ALL seated and eating by 1:30 p.m.

My in-laws aren't comfortable driving at night, anymore (we live in Jersey, I don't blame them) and I'm not comfortable with my parents driving the 45 minutes to get home (give or take an hour, which is equal to about 45-50 miles, if you're not from Jersey) either.

Still, in our minds, each moment we get to share, with each other, is a gift.

So, my husband Garth (NHRN) and I decided to have dinner early, giving our parents time to sit, enjoy themselves and then get home with time enough to spend a quiet evening, with each other.

Us, too.

So, now that the dishes are done (mostly) the dining room broken down and the kiddie table is back in the garage, it's time to start celebrating our own private little Thanksgiving.

I've already missed half of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas (the Jim Carrey version is our favorite and lines from the movie may or may not be quoted, throughout the year) soon to be followed by Christmas Vacation.

So, pardon me, while I change into my pajamas and squee-gee myself into a spot on the couch.

"Whassup with the turkey neck?"

Of course, I couldn't pull ANY of this off without the help of my husband, Garth (NHRN) and yet, have to remind him, every year, about the turkey neck.

"It's for my grandmother."

It was her favorite and in my mind, 8 years after her passing, she still gets first dibs. I know. I'm a dork. Still.

"If she shows up to eat it, I'm leaving!"

[one beat, two beats]

"Go ahead and give it to the Doofus-Dawg!"

I may be a tired, wigged-out, slightly sore and totally pms-ing major dork, at the moment (you're welcome) but, my Nagy Mama did NOT raise no fool.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours, my friends.

© 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 24, 2011
Long Time Blogger, First Time NaBloPoMo-er

Yes, I am NaBloPoMo-ing it (a.k.a. National Blog Posting Month) and I’m a leeeee-tull nervous about it.

In ALL my years of blogging, I have never NaBloPoMo-ed.

[blushing]

I know, I know, blogging every day (especially, on the weekends) is a HUGE commitment (for me, anyways) as of January, I’ll have 3 teenagers in the house and, well, my brain sure could use a good dump-ing.

You’re welcome!

Also, if Kendra, Melisa and Diana are NaBloPoMo-ing, as well (cliff, meet lemming) then it MUST be cool, right?!?

Aaaaaanyway, the cool thing about NaBloPoMo-ing is that there are daily prompts to help get my blogging juices going. Today’s prompt:

Can you listen to music and write? What song did you hear today?

(more…)

November 3, 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
Liar, Liar, Birthday Cake on Fire!
I remember, back in the day (way before feed readers and Facebook ruled the interwebz) when my kids were smaller (i.e. NOT able to finish stuff ordered off the children's menu) how cute it was when they'd start planning their NEXT birthdays…the day AFTER…their birthdays.

Then, they got bigger, we started paying full price at the movie theaters and, well, thank goodness for Netflix.

Then, all of the sudden, we were celebrating birthweeks, evidenced by my having to clean the house, more than usual and, well, thank goodness our local super, duper, shop until you drop has an awesome bakery department, too.

Did I mention, my 3 oldest celebrate their birthdays in November, December and January, respectively, in birth order and…SURE…I could tell you, that…YES…we totally planned it that way…OF COURSE…I am still THAT organized (snort!) but, most of you would probably know I'd be lying, right?

As my kids continue to get older (me, too DAGNABIT!) I've since grown to appreciate celebrating birthweekends and focusing on enjoying the simple stuff, like:
- Waking up with all my body parts STILL attached.
- Sipping a cup of my husband's most excellent coffee.
- Enjoying the early morning hours, on our porch.
- Not having to go anywhere.
- Not having to do anything.
- Touching, feeling and actually getting to read the newspaper.
- Visiting with family and friends.
- Impressing the kids that…SHYEAH!!!…mom can STILL play a mean game of volleyball.
- Not to mention, NOT having to clean up, after (the house party, not volleyball, SHEESH!)
These are the things that made MY birthday weekend totally AWESOME, anyway!

Also, best cake, EVUH (thanks, Pam!) you know, I could really get used to this whole birthday thing.

I mean, after 39 years of practice, you'd think I would be, right?

[see blog title]

But, you can call me Matt…DAGNABIT!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
May 31, 2011
The Gift of Nothing

I woke, like most mornings, with extreme dry mouth, the ability to breath through my right nostril (ONLY!) a major case of bed head and the deep, roasty smell of a freshly-brewed pot of coffee.

Aaaand, against ALL laws of this mother's nature (i.e. no one, who knows me, can call me a morning person, EVER!) I allowed myself to be escorted to the breakfast table, eyes shut tight (stupid allergies) and well, I couldn't help but giggle when my youngest daughter announced:

"I was going to pick you some flowers, but the bees are a little cranky, this morning."

Regardless of how hard jewelry stores try to convince us, it's the little things that keep me going, as frazzled, frantic and frequently frustrated by poorly manufactured zippers, as I am.

Not to mention, less than supportive bras.

Don't EVEN get me started on stray facial hair.

Oh, and what rocket scientist thought it would be a good idea to put adhesive wings on sanitary napkins?

Seriously.

Mother Nature can be a real witch, sometimes…um…where was I…oh, yeah…these days, doesn't take much to make my heart go all, you know, squishy.

Like, finding my plate surrounded by freshly-picked blossoms from one of our neighbor's azalea bushes…kidding, it's on our side of the property line…I think.

Or, one of the treasures from our latest beach-combing excursions carefully crafted into a pretty reminder, for my desk.

Well, unlike me (DAMMIT!) this sort of stuff just never gets old, you know?

[bites lower lip]

My 12 year-old son, however, would beg to differ.

"What's with the face, Bub?"

Never one to let sleeping dogs lie…which reminds me…GET OFF THE COUCH YOU BIG DOOFUS-DAWG!…sorry about that…so, where was I…oh, yeah…nothing.

"Nothing!"

Warning…morale parenting dilemma ahead.

"Glen helped pick the flowers…yeah, and he helped me decorate the shell…yep, and he helped me cut the fruit…"

[frowning]

"No, I didn't!"

Phew! Dilemma avoided. Although, I'm not happy my daughters felt the need to lie…for my son. Still. Even my husband, Garth (NHRN) thought it was sort of nice that, you know, the girls were indeed covering for their brother.

"I did nothing."

The gift of guilt, however, lasts a lifetime, no?

"Yes, but nothing is EXACTLY what I asked for, isn't it?"

[one beat, two beats]

"Heh, you're welcome!"

Forgive me for feeling all meh about Mother's Day.

Especially, all of you new moms, out there, with your adorable little mini-selves and even though I really do miss that fresh new baby smell, sometimes.

Quite frankly, I want nothing.

Except, for a little peace.

Also, quiet.

Or, for the person who found my tweezers and forgot to put 'em back to, you know, put 'em back.

Oh, and maybe even a second cup of coffee.

Now, THAT…cough-cough-Heather…would be REAL nice.

Little things like that, right there.

But, mostly, nothing, thankyouverymuch.

"Well, then, you're gonna LOVE what I got you for your birthday!"

Yay, as long as it doesn't have a zipper, I can't wait…NOT.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

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