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.
My friend, Melisa (with one S) had a really bad run in with a runaway gas pump, yesterday.
Really, go and give her some love (when you find the time, of course!) because, personally, I can totally relate to her angst.
I mean, honestly, as a self-professed magnet for attracting really, really embarrassing situations AND considering my talent for breaking things HARD!
There really is a REAL good reason why this Jersey girls does NOT pump her own gas.
Yeah, besides the fact that it's illegal to pump your own gas, here in New Jersey (and Oregon, I think) THIS IS a law suit just waiting to happen.
"Oh and be sure to stop at the gas station on your way home."
Now that my oldest daughter is driving?
"I think it's time you learned how to get gas."
I think it's real important to know how to pump your own gas and she does (her father showed her how to do it on our last road trip to Cape Cod) just NOT in Jersey.
"How did you do?"
[one beat, two beats]
"Fine, after I let the gas station dude show me how to pop open the gas tank."
[blank stare]
Ummmm, yeah, we may or may not have forgotten to show her where to find THAT particular button.
[sound of crickets]
WHAT?!? It's in a really weird spot, way down on the floor (I think!) aaaand, I even forgot, my ownself, the gas station dude had to show me where it was, once or maybe twice, I forget.
Morale of the Story: My oldest has decided to pursue a career in art education, as well as attending a college closer to home (YAY!) clearly, she did NOT get her artistic talent from me.
Stupid gas stations, dumbass cars!
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
My oldest daughter is a senior in high school…hang on, while I allow that to sink in or, at least, until I stop shivering…okay, that's better, thanks.
Aaaaanyway, there is nothing…and I mean ABSOLUTELY NADA…that will bring even the most light-hearted of parental units…crashing back down to earth…faster than a high school graduation and/or college looming over your head.
Aaaaand, the perverbial glass ceiling being…I am her mother.
"I need a baby picture for the year book!"
You've heard of Manic Mondays, right (Bangles, 1986, look it up on Youtube, youngster!)
"Um, okay, when do you need it?"
Well, at our house, we celebrate Frantic Fridays.
"Deadline is today."
Of course. Why not? Never mind that her father is in the car, waiting, or that she should have been at school, 10 minutes ago, OH, and I have absolutely NO CLUE where her baby book is OR if it's even finished.
Luckily, my youngest (a.k.a. The Informer) pulled this pic pretty much out of nowhere (a'la Houdini) and, well…hang on another second…or 60,000…as my mind begins to race:
The simple act of holding a photo and ALL this (and, MUCH, MUCH more) goes through my mind (it's a gift!)
Revisiting stuff, like, maybe I should have done [insert stuff] differently.
Or, stuff I didn't do, in the last almost 18 years, like, take her to Disney (I mean, really, every kid SHOULD go to Disney, right?!?)
"Oh, look how cute I was."
Still is (are?) albeit, frustratingly flighty at times and perpetually late…hey, wait a minute…apple, meet tree!!!
"DUH-DUM..DUM-DUM-DUM…DUM-DUM-DUM…DUHHHHH-DUM!"
Holly snatched the photo from my hand and I turned, a little too quickly (I suffer from severe internal bedhead, too) but, managed to grab my camera in time for the second chorus:
The leaky roof, cracked ceilings, busted water heater, renovation projects that have gone unfinished for, well, uh, did I mention, we've got a kid, turning 18, next month (I think?!?)
NOPE, wouldn't trade ANY of it…NADA!…at this very moment…for all the dry wall and/or spackle mud in the world.
The fact that my 10-year-old even knew the words to Eye of the Tiger (Survivor, 1982, shuddup) which came out the same year I graduated high school?!?
[shiver]
PRICELESS and more than just a little freaky, right?!?
© 2003 – 2011 This FULL House
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
I was collating through paperwork and alphabetizing color-coded files, the other day.
Okay, so I was looking for a pen.
Fiiiiiine, I would have been happy finding a broken crayon…but, couldn't see the top of my desk from the paper jungle that mysteriously cropped up…seems like overnight, really.
Alriiiiiight, so a person could lose a small child in the stack of bills, that somehow magically migrated from the kitchen table…ummmmmm…what?
[sound of crickets]
PEN!!!…that's right…I was looking for a pen (or crayon) but, found a list of stuff and asked my youngest daughter about it, since, you know, it was in her handwriting.
"It's a list of stuff."
Now that we're clear on it being a list…of stuff…she went on to explain that it is actually a collective wish list she and her sisters penned, while I was away at BlogHer, of the qualities they wanted in their future husband and/or SigOth.
In the order listed (with notes added, where deemed necessary, or, at least, I felt, you know, compelled to do so, as their Muh-thuh) and YES! I asked them before I blogged it, for the sake of posterity, of course:
[pause for bathroom break]
It will be fun to visit this list, a few years from now and see how we they fared (or, not!) right?!?
Riiiiiiight.
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
I usually don't write about this sort of stuff, here (because, zombies are so much more in line with my parenting philosophy, you know?)
Aaaaaaanyway, I recently had the opportunity to share information about a great new service on my shopping blog.
It's been 6 weeks since Holly got her driver's license and — although, I have to admit, I'm getting REAL used to her running last-minute-type errands — I'm worrying MORE about my baby girl than ever before!
So, when the Allstate folks approached me about their pay ONLY when you need it roadside assistance program, I thought it was a GREAT plan — most especially, if you have new drivers in the house, like we do!
Because, upon reading my blog post, Heather (she's my middle girl and is my self-imposed grammar corrector) was kind enough to remind me that she is turning 16 at the end of this year and will be eligible for her driver's license, next year!
GULP!!!
Sooooooo, YES, I believe it is very important to introduce teens to the basic fundamentals of taking care of a car, as well as an emergency back-up plan, seeing as they will be sharing the same car…mine!!!
I really hope you check it out and thank you for your time.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to pick up a couple of job applications, because, New Jersey car insurance rates…DAYUM…or, maybe I'll just get Holly to do it, right?!?
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
Last week, I got to spend a few days at one of my favorite summertime destinations and, would you believe, it is NOT Disney?
My family has never been, actually.
Nope, in fact, I was happy for the opportunity to write about my favorite vacation spot, here in Jersey (is, too!!!)
Still, leaving home, without my kids, is always hard.
However, I did not expect my youngest daughter to cry and hug me, as hard, as she did, or to make my son feel as if I were never coming back home, ever again.
Then, about halfway into the 2+ hour car ride it dawned me.
"Hi mom, we need the password for Netflix."
My kids were sad, beeeeeecause, they weren't allowed to, you know, come with me and, well, the fact that they probably would be fine, without me (for the next few days, at least) just made my time away from home a little easier.
Then, I came home, gave them each their presents (don't judge) and we ALL settled in to catch up on Season 2 of Glee (thank you, Netflix) when it hit.
"Mom, we need to practice parallel parking!!!"
A wave of nausea, when realizing that my oldest daughter is taking her driving test on Tuesday and…for those of you who have been reading along…for the last 8 years (you know who you are!) and my many new friends I've met over the internets…I hope you understand when I repeat this, all in UPPERCASE:
HOLLY WILL (or will not) BE ISSUED A NEW JERSEY DRIVER'S LICENSE, TOMORROW!!!
Oh and, one more thing:
HOW IN THE H…E…DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS DID THAT HAPPEN, ANYWAY?!?!?
[takes deep breath]
So, Garth (not his real name) and I traded cars, since she'll be road-testing in it, anyway.
Also, the hand break is in the center console, where instructor can reach it, if need be, but I hope not, still, you never know, it is supposed to rain, like buckets, okay, pour actually, ugh, moving on.
Late this afternoon, Holly and I headed over to the high school and, seeing as I grew up about 25 minutes outside of New York City, while my husband grew up with head on parking (ONLY!) I instructed my 17 year-old in the fine art of parallel parking.
Phase 1: wasn't very successful and I suspected it was because the poor kid couldn't see the back of the first pretend car.
"This is no use, Mom, I can't see the garbage can in the front!"
See, I told you, because, I'm smart like that.
Phase 2: I found the pair of slippers, from Christmas, that don't fit Garth (not his real name) in the trunk, so I balanced it right on top of an empty box of garbage bags and, viola!!!
Almost, not quite, but I just stood there, taking pictures, all quiet like (which is very, very hard for a Hungarian, just so you know) and let Holly get a feel for her.
Well, seems like she's ready and close enough to the curb for Mr. or Ms. DMV Instructor, even, right?
"I'm gonna pass this suh-cuh!"
Yep, to me, it sounds like she's more than ready to drive, in Jersey!
"Even if you don't, no biggie!"
Seriously, we live in Jersey, either way, she parks like her muh-thuh.
"Can I blog this?"
So, you know, I could remember what in the h…e…double hockey sticks I did…for the next 3 times, I mean.
"Can you believe that Hope's turning double-digits this week, too, Mom?"
Because, you know, they don't stay little for long…DAGNABIT!!!!
UPDATED TO ADD: She passed. I did NOT puke. Aaaaand, now it starts…
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
A transformer behind our house blew up (like, in BOOM!) and we lost ALL power, this morning.
No big deal, really, happens ALL the time!
Although, I'm not quite sure why, other than listening to my husband insisting it's because our kids leave the lights on…ALL of them…ALL the time…and, well, it just makes mornings a REAL pain in the backside.
More than usual, I mean.
Considering that, this time, it happens to be on a Monday morning, well, you know.
2 hours later.
"Wanna go for a ride?"
My oldest is home from school for a mom-imposed mental health day (final exams and road test for driver's license, next week…enough said) and, considering that I hadn't showered and would probably spend way too much money on coffee, working at Starbucks, anyway.
"SURE!"
Plus, it seems my impatience was painfully obvious (tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…looks at clock…tap, tap, tap) not to mention, wearing a hole in our living room carpet.
"You can teach me how to cash a check."
Although, it's been a while (fyi: patience is a valuable job skill when freelancing, DAGNABIT!) I was more than happy to help my oldest learn the value of banking…on the positive side….for once.
"Sign here…account number goes here…oh, and they may ask you for some identification, so make sure you have your student i.d. with you…what?"
[blank stare]
"Aren't you coming in with me?"
No. Not because I didn't shower, or wash my hair, either.
"Nope, you don't need me."
She pulled down the visor, checked her makeup, joojed her hair, threw her purse strap over her left shoulder, then turned to me and said:
"Right, here I go."
BOOM!
Aaaand, that, my friends, was the sound of my heart…breaking.
"Ten..twenty…thirty…YEY, Mom, you want a donut? My treat!!!"
Call it divine intervention, or whatever, my kid (a.k.a. Countess D'Money) swears it's because someone, up there, somewhere, is just tired of watching me be soooooo stressed out, ALL the time, or something.
[shrugs]
I'm just very, very thankful to have celebrated a piece of my daughter's first step towards independence, followed by an impromptu and totally unscheduled hike through the park, together.
Oh, I then told Holly that I would let her drive, from now on, too…starting next week, of course…BOOM!
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
Oh, almost forgot (I know, act surprised anyway, okay?) don’t forget to enter to win a $100 gift card to Dick’s Sporting goods courtesy of BlogHer and Gatorade Moms! Click here for details!
Yesterday, we attended an art show, held at a local bank, supporting art in schools, featuring two of Holly's pieces.
You can't really tell from my cell phone, however the majority of this pen and ink drawing is stippled, with tiny little dots.
I remember, because I can still hear the, "…dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot…" of her tapping the pen well into the night.
The same with this one,"…dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot…" which explains the permanent dent in the poor girl's right index finger.
This piece, however, is still her favorite, she says, because it's the first, of many she's created (dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot) taking inspiration from her own life, rather than that of another artist.
It's her vision…of herself…and, well, my inner-17-year-old totally relates to the juggling act going on in her head.
I mean, I am her mother.
As her mother?
To be honest, it made me a little sad to think, man, that still seems like A LOT of pressure, doesn't it?
Even more sadly, I started to over-analyze stuff, in my own head, like:
I did ask her about the bills thing, considering that she may (or, may not) have read my last post.
That's when….
Warning: you're about to enter a proud mom-type blogging moment and, if this sort of stuff makes you itch, I don't blame you. However, considering that I am her mother, stuff like this just seems all the more amazing, you know, so indulge me this one time, okay?
….she quickly pointed out that the closest thing to her heart is family.
"Read from the bottom up, not the top."
TAKEAWAY: Seems we're ALL well passed refrigerator art and graduating into deeper, smarter waters, now.
[second glance]
GAH…quick, someone throw me a dingy, PLEASE!
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
I know, I know, enough with the snowmaggedon posts, already. Still. This winter has made for some really beautiful pictures — here in Jersey, anyway — like these ice swans captured by my 15 yo, in our backyard, the other day. She's majoring in photo journalism and, well, the girl has a great eye, no?
Oh, and the icicles? They are EPIC this year. I'm so glad I took this shot outside our den/guestroom/laundryroom/playroom…before they ALL melted.
Or, before my oldest (a.k.a. Holly the Icicle Slayer) got her hands on them and, truth be told, having caught a glimpse of her darkside, you'd never know that, IRL, she's really an Italian literature and arts major, right?
I was a little frightened for the wreath's safety.
So, I thought it was probably a good idea to, you know, step back and put down my brand new camera, frigalicious as it is (yes, it's a word!) not to mention, put away the rest of the Christmas decorations…I know…shuddup!
But, not before grabbing this shot, as she claimed her trophy and, well, thank goodness her little brother wasn't home to, you know, turn it into a weapon and pretend it was an ice saber, or something.
Before it melted, of course — Happy Sunday!!!
To see other scenes from around the world, check out Unknown Mami’s Sundays in My City.
Oh, and feel free to clean off a chair, sit down and visit my photo journal or my Flickr photostream.
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House