This Full House Archive

Category: In Case of Emergency, Send Cheesecake!

  • Forgive her, Lord for she is from the North and prays only for some sleep.

    Charlottebed

    I have a confession to make – hang on to your hoodies, it’s not like that – but, I hesitate to mention my love for hotel rooms, because…well…does anyone else get a kick out of being able to sleep in a gorgeously made up bed (read: crispy white linens and matching pillows) and then come back at the end of the day to find your room cleaned, picked up and your bed ready for some major snuggling!?!?

    Me, too and – if it weren’t for a minor snafu – judging by the inaugural go-ahead-and-hop-your-butt-up-on-there test and the overall fluff-factor, I suspect spending an entire night sleeping in it would have been real nice, too!
    Although, my husband seems to feel that my waking him in the middle of the night, screaming in pain, and then having to rush me to the local hospital (read:  where the hell are we anyway…and…I don’t care…WHAT is the easiest to get to!?!?) as more that just, you know, a snafu.

    "The virus is attacking her internal organs and working it’s way through her intestines, so the pain should get better, before it gets any worse."

    Swell.

    "Rest assured, her gallbladder is fine, both kidneys are functioning normally and we’re about 99% sure it has NOT infected her appendix, but we’d like her stay the night."

    How nice, they must really like me.

    "Where ya’ll planning on doin’?"

    Well, we were on our way home and – though, I haven’t been feeling well and not eating much the whole trip – I just had to stop in Old Town and have dinner, because…well, stupid is as stupid does.

    "Look, I do love it here and all…everyone is really nice…but, please don’t take this the wrong way…I just want to get home to my babies and sleep in my own bed, tonight!"

    A couple of bags of saline, a muscle relaxer, a shower, a few more prescriptions for good measure and nearly 24 hours, later we are home and we are BOTH doing well – my husband doesn’t like it much that I’m sick and still blogging, either – but, don’t worry, I hear my bed calling and Garth (not his real name) is taking real good care of me and the kids.

    He’s good, like that!

    In the meantime – please, feel free to clean off a chair, sit down and talk amongst yourselves – if anyone needs me, I’ll be upstairs, thanking my lucky stars, clutching my mid-section and praying for some sleep!

  • Summer Vacation: As nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs – Day 28

    Thing Two had her 11-year-well-visit, today – okay, so we’re 6
    months late, again – and I guess the main reason we’ve been putting it
    off so long is…

    [shivers]

    I absolutely HATE needles.

    [burps in mouth, a little]

    .
    Always have, always will.

    Taking my kids for their shots is never easy and I think most
    parents would tend to agree with me on this point (no pun intended)
    but, insisting that they go through something as traumatic and
    unpleasant as, GULP, getting a shot in the arm with a very sharp
    object…well, it’s painful!

    Taking care of sick parents…sucks wet poodle.

    Last week, I called my folks and offered to take my father for the
    second round of his pain management shots and I swear, you could hear a
    pin drop.

    Hello?

    "Uh…no…um…nuh-uh…that’s okay, you don’t have to come…really…we’ll be fine."

    It’s not that they didn’t want me to be there, or anything.

    "Besides, you have your hands full, already!"

    After all, I did live with them for 25 years – they know.

    "We can handle it, this time, without you and don’t want you to worry."

    Too late – they had me at "handle it" and "without you" – basically, my nerves are shot.

    "How are your parents?"

    GAH!

    The pediatrician was swabbing one of Thing Two’s arms and – after my
    daughter asked that we try and distract her from the shots and talk
    about, you know, something else – she spoke and I nearly fell out of my
    chair and peed my pants, a little.

    What – appliances are exploding all around me and even the smallest things are setting my world on fire – I’m a little tense, okay!?!

    "Oh…well, they’re…um…they’re haaaaaaang…ing…in…HOLY CATS!"

    I grabbed Thing Two’s hand in both of mine, put my forehead against hers and closed my eyes.

    "Don’t look, baby!"

    One alligator, two alligators, three alligators…

    "Done!"

    …four alligators…five alligators…

    "Mrs. Thompson?"

    I motioned with my hand for her to give me a second, or two.

    "There…that wasn’t too bad…good job, sweetie!"

    [eyes go wide]

    "No, but now my hand hurts like crazy!"

    I’m telling you, it’s amazing – what a good few seconds of
    absolutely nothing, will do for a person like, you know, me – and I
    felt really, you know, good.

    "Okay, one down and three more to go!"

    [burp]

    Actually, Thing Two decided to get two of her shots now and the other two, later.

    "No problem, I can always bring her back during Mini-me’s well-visit, next week."

    [eyes go wide]

    "NO…uh, I mean…that won’t be necessary…they can
    wait a month or, at this point, even two, perhaps it would be better,
    Mrs. Thompson."

    My sister-in-law is coming home from Arizona — YAY! — and moving
    in with us, for a while; my parents are planning one last trip to
    Hungary, last minute (of course) and I’ve got the BlogHer conference to get ready for in…um…HOLY CATS…less than two weeks!

    Let me think.

    "OKAY!"

    To think, I’ve only been passing out in her chair for 6 years, or so, give or take a hypodermic.

    "You and your kids are so funny…I still remember
    how the three of you first came to me…before Mini-me was born, I
    mean…and how you all cried after Little Man got his shots!"

    Still – most people would probably be surprised to learn just how
    nervous I can get, especially about traveling and having to meet new
    people, ALONE – it’s always nice when people remind me to, you know,
    chill out and get over myself.

    "We ARE still babysitting for you, right?"

    [eyes go wide]

    "NO…uh…thanks guys…but, um…I mean, your calendar’s full of doctor appointments…and there’s your trip to get ready for…and everything."

    One alligator…two alligators…three alligators…
    .
    Morale of the story:   Don’t let the awkward silence worry you too much, it’s those nasty mommy glares – you know, the kind that says, "Die, you over-breeding little twit," and then sets your hair on fire – are the ones we all should learn to watch out for!

    [shiver]

    Don’t worry, I’ll be fine – it’s bound to grow back, sometime – in
    the meantime, please feel free to stay a while, clean off a chair and
    mind the killer dust bunnies.

    If anyone needs me, I’ll be upstairs….cleaning out the closets and cursing my wardrobe!

  • Summer Vacation: On bad luck, superstition and being scared half to death, twice – Day 25

    Deathmask

    […exercising a vested interest in spawning fear since 1993]

    Having been raised in a very superstitious household – where spilled
    salt and broken mirrors were considered unfavorable signs of bad things
    to come – and being a very clumsy child, I was a cause of deep concern
    for my family and often times found myself the subject to one of my
    grandmother’s homemade remedies, or lucky charms.

    Did they work?

    Depends on who you ask – especially, whenever things finally went
    right – my grandmother swears it did and growing up, I was scared to
    death that lightening would strike and somehow I would be blamed.

    And then, it did – twice – and now, I’ve got both my husband and poor mother-in-law scared to death!

    You see, she reads my blog – hi mom, how’s it hanging? – and my
    husband is simply horrified by the fact that I might, you know, write
    about something that his mother may NOT necessarily care to know, or
    read about.

    SNORT.

    Like, she raised five children and has babysat ALL four of
    our children on numerous occasions. I mean, my kids can’t wait to tell
    grandma, "Our house almost burned down" and "The car almost broke," or,
    "Guess what Mommy did?" and give me up…all…the…time.

    Trust me, she knows.

    "Are you recovered, yet?"

    My husband got home from work and I had just finished chasing my
    husband into the pool – he was in a terrible mood and needed to soak
    his cranky butt, badly – when my mother-in-law called, as I was
    finishing dinner.

    "Um…from which thing?"

    I mean, seriously.

    "Oh, I’m sorry, the thing with the lightening, losing power and everything."

    See, she knows.

    "Oh, that…yeah, how weird was that?"

    Silence.

    "We want to come over and hear all about it – when would be a good time?"

    Wait a minute.

    "Uh…well, it’s almost seven…and we’re almost ready to have dinner…so, I guess in an hour?"

    My in-laws almost NEVER do anything, without consulting their
    calendar, or calling, well in advance and – since I am considering
    changing my first name to, last minute – this was a most welcome and
    refreshing change of events.

    "We’ll be there in an hour-and-a-half, then."

    Good, just enough time for me to fumigate the house (stupid cat) light some candles (stupid dog) and hide the laundry!

    "How are you feeling, today?"

    Okay, this time, my husband looked just as confused as, you know, I can get.

    [shrugs]

    "Fine…uh, mom…why?"

    Uh-oh.

    "Well, we heard what happened to you…and thought
    we’d call and come right over…and wanted to see if you were, you
    know, okay."

    You smell something?

    "No, I’m fine, lightening either hit the branch, or close enough to fry the circuits and cause it to lose power."

    Because, judging by the way my mother-in-law was looking at me, I swear my hair’s on fire!

    "By the way, how did you know?"

    [shrugs]

    "I read it on HER blog!"

    [biting lower lip]

    "I didn’t say…I mean…I DID say that he came
    home…I guess it sounded, you know, a lot worse, huh?…I mean…did I
    mention I made him Grape Nut Pudding!?!"

    Morale of the story: be careful what you blog, it could get you
    fired – or, scare your mother-in-law half to death and cause you to
    burst into flames and wish you were hit by lightening, twice.

    Lucky for me, technically, I don’t work and we’re not related.

    Stupid blog!

  • Summer Vacation – Humanizing while under the influence of children – Day 7

    My parents have very close friends – my father and Mr. T. grew up
    together and escaped Hungary in the 50’s – who recently lost their dog,
    unexpectedly. The kids and I were at a family function, yesterday and
    happened to run into them – yes, really, I tripped over air and nearly
    dropped a whole platter of chicken salad sandwiches – so, I took my
    cousin’s advice, put the food down and struck up a conversation with
    Mr. and Mrs. T.

    They asked how our Doofus-dog was doing and after I finished telling
    them all of the Doofus-type things he’s managed to do (and eat) they
    seemed almost as surprised, as I was, to learn that he wasn’t dead, yet.

    "If the chocolate doesn’t kill him, my husband will…he’s lucky to be alive, really…so, you looking for a dog?"

    Mrs. T.’s teared up and she nearly dropped her cigarette.

    "I mean…oh, Jeez…I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to make you sad."

    I immediately changed the subject and asked if they knew of a good
    doctor in the neighborhood, who could help surgically remove my size 9
    foot from my even BIGGER mouth!

    "Even though he IS such pinhead, Doofus is an important part of our family and I know how much you must miss Coco."

    Personally, I hated the dog.

    What?

    Okay – so this is where, if I had a penis, I’d ask you to call me an
    insensitive prick – but, it was one of those yip-yip-fru-fru-type high
    maintenance little buggers that had more toys, grooming products and
    hair appointments than, you know, my kids.

    But, Mrs. T.’s children are grown now and ALL of her grandchildren
    live out-of-state and I know how hard it is for her to get used to NOT
    taking care of, well, something.

    Yes, pets and children are very humanizing and we’ve been spending A LOT of time with my parents.

    "I don’t want to go home!"

    Nice.

    "It’s fun staying at mama’s and papa’s house."

    Real nice.

    "Yes…I know…but, we haven’t seen daddy all weekend!"

    I gave my husband a belated Father’s Day gift and – because he
    hasn’t had a weekend to himself in, well, weeks – I told him that he
    and Uncle Steve could go out for, you know, a daddy play date.

    "So, how were the car races?"

    Imagine my surprise to learn that he decided to stay home and build a rabbit fence for my vegetable garden, instead!

    Yes, I hate rabbits, but – short of shooting my neighbor for
    constantly feeding the little suckers – she doesn’t care for my pets
    getting into her yard, either and I trust that the new fence will
    certainly help keep the peace, at least.

    But, then I saw the hole in my cat.

    "Hon, come here…QUICK!"

    It was an ugly, round and about the size of a large bee-bee.

    "Look what the hell happened to Old Man?"

    No, I don’t sit around and imagine my 98 year-old-neighbor shooting
    my cat, but – it sure as hell looked like someone did – I had a hard
    time trying NOT to believe it.

    The vet at the emergency hospital, not so much.

    "It looks more like a bite."

    Nice.

    "In fact, it’s not a new wound…it looks more like
    an abscess…probably been festering for a while…see, how the tissue
    around it is all dead."

    Real nice.

    "Are you sure?"

    [eyes go wide]

    "I mean, how didn’t we notice this?!?"

    Yes, I was very upset.

    "I mean…the poor old man…we’ve been taking really
    good care of him, I swear…and it would be almost easier to take…if
    I believe that it was one of our nutty neighbors!"

    Even though she did laugh, the vet seemed to have a hard time understanding what the big deal was about.

    "Do you have any children at home?"

    [eyes go wide]

    "Um…yes…they’re home…why?…I mean, we have 4
    kids…but, they’re with a babysitter…I mean…my oldest daughter is
    watching them…she’s 13…I mean…until Grandma and Grandpa get
    there…uh…yes, they’re home.

    I buried my face in my hands.

    "No, sweetie, don’t get upset…all I meant
    is…well, these things are sometimes very easy to miss… and you
    already seem to have your hands full."

    Yes, the vet was soooo right – I mean, she is a mom with 3
    kids – but, what I failed to tell her is that my grandmother gave us
    this cat and made me promise that I would take care of Old Man, before
    she died!

    Pumpkincollared

    Yes, he’s fine and – although, they did have to surgically remove a
    rather large portion of his backside – he’s a tough old man! And
    there’s nothing more humanizing than staying up most of the night, with
    your pet, and having your children help take care of, well, in keeping
    a promise.

    Pumpkinbackslide

    Watching the cat walk into things and laughing our asses off, not so much.