This Full House Archive

Category: It’s not the years, HONEY – it’s the mileage!

On the Other Hand, My Build-A-Bear’s Name Would Totally Be FUBAR!

The kids and I were sitting around the kitchen table — actually, I was working on finalizing a few end of summer writing projects, while they hovered in and around my laptop, wondering out loud when, if ever, we would actually do something "fun" before school starts — while we ALL reminisced about how much fun school "used" to be.

Incredibly enough, my 13 year-old son actually admitted that he kind of liked going to school (if you have a son, especially between the ages of 10 and grown, then you know why this is so gosh-darned incredible) most especially, after I pulled him out of the car and dragged him to the curb screaming.

His gym teacher, who stood at the ready and fielded the boy to the door every morning of kindergarten, will totally back me up on this one.

"Remember the thing about Sniper Bear?"

Long story, short (you're welcome) my son also had this thing….ummmmm….okay, to try and put this as delicately as possible, so as not to scare parents of younger children….the boy could effectively turn the most benign and non-threatening object into a weapon.

"Oh yeah, I drew it in kindergarten or something."

For example: while future Martha Stewarts of the world imagined an empty paper towel roll into a rain stick or kaleidoscope….my son would fashion into a state of the art rocket launcher….complete with thermal imaging and night vision.

"Actually, it was your first in-class project for 2nd grade."

Needless to say, although I haven't found a picture of an ammo vest as perfectly described as he did in crayon, my son's bear almost didn't make it up on the wall for back-to-school night.

"Nuh-uh, I remember 'cause the class had a bathroom."

Yes, his kindergarten class had a bathroom and he remembers this for a whole other reason I won't bother going into (you're welcome, really!) because, quite frankly, I'm STILL trying to forget THAT incident.

"No, it was Mrs. H.'s class and I know for sure because I blogged about it."

I did a quick search, found it (blogged about Sniper Bear back on September 20, 2006) and read the entire blog post to them.

"OMG! I can't believe you called my teacher Mrs. Gives-a-crap-load-of-Homework!"

Actually, I blogged her as Mrs. Gives-a-shit-load-of-Homework and, well, contrary to popular opinion, I do make a concerted effort to censor myself every now and again.

"She was my favorite teacher!"

Mine, too. Although, this teacher did give a shit…I mean…crap load of homework for 2nd grade, I think (a worksheet for every subject, every night, UGH!) my son was allowed to take Sniper Bear home for a quick makeover so that she could hang Cammo Bear up on the wall in time for back-to-school night.

"Wait a minute, was that when you set the house on fire?"

[blank stare]

"In your blog post, you mentioned the dishwasher blew up or something."

Actually, it was the dryer that caught fire. The dishwasher blew up a few days before and no I did NOT set the house on fire that one time (not on purpose, anyways) and we ALL agreed that my build-a-bear would totally have been FUBAR!

Aaaaaand, now that I'm thinking on it some more, you might want to vacuum out your lint vents…every now and again…just sayin'.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

July 16, 2012
Call Me Craaaaaaaazy, Talk With Yous Laaaaaaaay-tuh, Maybe

Source: etsy.com via Liz on Pinterest

My parents had a telephone similar to this one — we were living in a 4 room apartment upstairs in my grandmother's house at the time — it hung on our kitchen wall and had a ridiculously long extension cord that would require untangling, by dangling the hand set and allowing it to spin, at least a couple times a day.

Which is really funny, because going into another room for a little privacy doesn't really matter much if you come from a family of LOUD TALKERS.

Somewhat related: I was working at the kitchen table yesterday (because it's summer break and we only have one computer, enough said) when my cell phone rang.

Me: Oh, it's Jenn!

Because, I have a terrible habit of thinking OUT LOUD as well.

13yo Son: So, I guess you'll be talking REAL LOUD then?!?

True story. Just ask Jenn. She's from Texas. I'm from Jersey. We sometimes have trouble understanding each other and, well, every little bit helps.

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Okay so what was I saying, oh yeah: cell phones allow us the freedom of continuing our conversations while running errands, dropping/picking up kids at school, waiting on ridiculously long check-out lines, even while taking much needed bathroom breaks (stupid ridiculously long check-out lines, dumbass bladder) and, well, I'd like to dangle some of THOSE people at least a couple times a day, too.

At the risk of shaking my cane and causing a massive load shift in body mass (you're welcome!) as my friend Jenn would say: if you choose to have a full-blown conversation out in public, or maybe even in the bathroom stall next to me, I'mma gonna contribute, bless your heart.

"So, she said….blah, blah, blah….and I said….yada, yada, yada….and she called me a so-and-so….you believe that or what?"

[clears throat]

"That's just craaaaaaaaazy!"

[dead silence]

"Here's my number….la, la, la….so, call me maybe."

[one beat, two beats]

"There's this crazy b*tch, ovuh-heh, I'll have-tuh call yuhs back!"

A little passive aggressive? Maybe. However, I live in Jersey and well they cut people here for less.

MOST ESPECIALLY in bathroom stalls…YO!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

July 13, 2012
She Bangs, He Bangs, We All Bang A Uey!

I drove my SIL into Massachusetts (my husband's aunt has been very ill and recovering in a nursing home) for what turned out to be a last-minute, don't-worry-we'll-just-go-ahead-and-cash-in-those-reward-points, road trip and clocked in nearly 700 miles this weekend.

Boston: Old and New

The thing with last-minute, don't-worry-etc-etc-type, road trips is that there is NEVER enough time to do ALL the things I really would like to do, whenever we do get up there.

Boston: This Way and That

Or whenevah yah up thah (if you're from Massachusetts) considering most of my husband's family lives in and around the Boston area and, well, turns out Massachusetts is a pretty big state.

Boston: Water Feature

Still, my friend Sue and her family live about 90 minutes away from where we were staying (which is about 5 hours closer than usual, btw) and, well, it took ALL my strength to keep my husband's car from veering off and following signs to Cape Cod.

I was also too busy banging u-turns (to make a change in direction when driving, in Jersey) dang, but Massachusetts signs are so gosh-dahned confusing!

Not to mention, they most likely don't teach the "keep one car-length between you and the car in front of you" rule when switching lanes, or maybe people just "saht of fahghat that paht" of the driver's test.

Boston: Church (one of many!)

Aaaaanyway, it was difficult enough leaving the kids (and my husband) home this time, considering they just about divorced me when visiting with Sue…on my bloggy little road trip, last March.

The kids, I mean, not my husband.

Garth (not his real name) MADE me go (don't believe me, ask Sue, she'll tell you) still, I couldn't help but feel a little guilty.

Not this time, tho.

Long story, short (you're welcome) I don't know of any travel site(s) that lists "Consider visiting nursing homes" as a vacation destination: i.e. one of the saddest places on earth.

Boston: My kind of place.

Still, it was nice to be able to help my SIL show her aunt's family a little support, considering I was adopted as an honorary cousin (during a girl's weekend away on Cape Cod, btw) years before my husband and I hooked up, even.

Boston: The Old Court House

We decided to drive into Boston and do a little site-seeing with my niece.

Which, of course, meant I was too busy looking up, most of the time, rather than watch where I was walking (it's drivers AND walkers to the right, right?) and it was soon after I took a picture of Ben Franklin (a tribute to our founding fathers, right next to Starbucks, yo!) when I tripped over someone's bicycle.

"Have a nice trip?"

Gosh, but I love my SIL's sense of humor (sort of!) and what IS IT with these Massachusetts people, anyways?!?

The bicyclist was trying to help an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair from off of the curb and cross to the other side of the street and, well, good thing I was NOT thinking out loud (for once) right?!?

"Can we help?"

My SIL and I each extended an arm, he grabbed both.

"Hang on a minute!"

The wheelchair was mechanical, very heavy and three more pedestrians ran over, along with the doorman from the hotel a few doors down, to help.

"On three…"

We gently sat the man back down into his wheelchair, while the doorman stopped traffic and the bicyclist followed alongside, making sure he made it safely across the street to the adjacent more wheelchair accessible sidewalk.

"Thank you guys…"

We were all shaking hands.

"…some of these streets can be real annoying."

I empathized with the doorman and admitted to banging more than a couple of U-ies already.

"Yah from Bahston then?"

Heh, must have been the Uey (a.k.a. U-turn) that brought out the Bahston.

"No, we're from New Jersey."

[one beat, two beats]

"Sahm diff-rahns."

Clearly, we're not the only ones who can't seem to make a left turn to save our lives.

Moral of the Story: Deep down inside, people are good, even if they do drive like crap, or something like that.

It was a good trip.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

July 10, 2012
Before Social Media, Some of Us Would Use Our Pregnancies, As Timelines
Never being one to tempt fate…[pausing to knock on wood]…I am absolutely sure of very few things in life, like:
- We are all out of milk, eggs, cereal or bread (probably, all four).
- If there is a mosquito in the house, I will find it.
- I will have to either thank or apologize to my husband, at least once, every day.
- Not before the cat uses my stomach as a springboard and pounces on my husband's head sometime around 4 a.m.
- Someone will have forgotten to switch the laundry (most probably, me).
- I will snort at least once, at any given time, in a conversation.
Ohhhhhh…and that the water main in front of our house will break AND at the most inopportune time too!

Then something will happen to exacerbate the situation: like one of the three police officers, unlucky enough to pull duty on a Sunday afternoon at the beginning of a holiday week, drives through the river that is running through our street, which inadvertently buckles the pavement and creates a mini-geyser.

Finally, we will begin to see the humor (most probably, on Facebook):

Garth (NHRN) making lemonade (sort of ) by taking advantage of situation while adhering to state of water emergency.

I will blog, or share it on Instagram and misspell at least one word (stupid man-fingers!):

What 1:20 a.m. looks like when they ate ripping your front walk a new one. http://instagr.am/p/MkQUT0G4mg/

But, the one thing I am REAL positive about (mostly) is that there will be plenty of family and friends who are more than willing to help me remember it as…you know…not ALL that bad…really.

Not when there are folks out there STILL without power (did you hear, Momo's gone all Little House on the Prairie?) because, as one Twitter friend was kind enough to remind me: water is less important than power.

Having lost BOTH and turning Amish for 5 days last summer, I totally agree.

Aaaaaand then, if I'm REAL lucky, I will find at least one online friend (maybe even two) who is STILL awake and have the best gosh-darned virtual slumberless party ever.

Long live the Three Klutzketeers!!!

[sound of crickets, chirping]

If anybody needs me, I'll be right here…propped up against the kitchen table, waiting for the service people to show up to fix my dishwasher AND washer (both of which are FUBAR!) so, I can…you know…put ALL this water to good use…YO!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House
July 2, 2012
On Pandemonium, Pneumonia and Piss-Poor Plumbing
If you were to ask me what pandemonium meant, B.C. (before children) I would have suggested that it sort of sounds like a digestive aid for pandas.

Panda. Ammonium. Get it?

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Beeeeeeeecawse, you see, although I had a weird sense of humor (okay, have) I still would NOT have fully understood what pandemonium meant (literally) and probably even spelled it incorrectly as pandamonium, anyway.

Then I had kids, someone invented spell check (PHEW!) and, well, I can safely say that…YES!…we NOW live in a constant state of:
1. any scene of wild confusion or disorder.
2. the abode of all demons (also see: Hell)
Aaaaand, I am NOT even exaggerating. Not one bit.

For example, last February: our new-ish dishwasher broke. I called for service and then had to cancel the day they were scheduled to come and fix the darned thing, because I ended up in the hospital with a kidney stone.

[A whole lot of other stuff happened, since then, but I'm going to just go ahead and fast-forward right by March, April and May, in and effort to save you some time, or perhaps take a quick pause for a bathroom break, or something, you're welcome.]

Fast-forward to this week: our new-is washer broke (oh, and yeah, dishwasher is STILL broken, see note regarding March, April and May) soooo, I made an appointment to have both of them looked at, because I am REAL good at multi-tasking like that.

An hour before the service call: this guy comes knocking and tells me, "Water main down the street is broken, we'll have to turn your water off for 5 hours!" and I burst into tears. Luckily, he was a very understanding fellow (had a wife at home AND knew something about piss-poor plumbing) and even offered me a tissue or twenty.

Half an hour before the service call: called to cancel service (AGAIN!) and repair people were all "We have NEVER had to cancel service due to a water main break," and I was all, "Of course you haven't," and "This sort of sh*t only happens to us!"

The next day (Wednesday, of this week, to help you keep up): service guy calls me, while parked in my driveway (sort of like my husband does, so I was okay with it) to ask if our water is on.

During the service call: Doctor's office calls to tell me that the results of my youngest daughter's radiology report from two weeks ago confirms — Hope has pneumonia. Aaaaand, the service guy is all like, "Don't cry!" He didn't have any tissues and I was all, like "It's okay, I still had some from the other guy."

Flash-back, two weeks ago: I was scheduled to work the last day of school in Hope's 5th grade class, except she got sick. Good thing my husband was home from work (took day off for oldest daughter's h.s. graduation, later that afternoon) soooo, he took Hope down to the emergency walk in place. They took an x-ray, said she sounded fine and probably had an upper-respiratory infection and sent them home with antibiotics.

[Note to Self: emergency walk in place does NOT read x-rays taken at emergency walk in place, okay, good to know.]

Yesterday: I called our pediatrician, apologized for cheating on her and took Hope in for an emergency follow-up appointment.

Today: I am happy to report that Hope is fine (she's well onto the road to a full recovery, thank goodness!) and that the parts for both the dishwasher AND washing machine should be here by this weekend.

A few minutes ago: the phone rings, I get a text message AND an emergency email ALL at the same time saying,"Water company has experienced a significant pipe failure…"

I don't know what the rest of it said. I sort of stopped listening after pipe failure.

Morale of the Story: I wasn't lying when I said this sh*t happens to us ALL the time!

Ummmmm….can I use your bathroom?!?

EDITED TO ADD (6/30): Believe it or not, right after I blogged this, Monmouth County (that's us!) issued a state of emergency. A temporary bridge (courtesy of Hurricane Irene) collapsed, damaging some pipes and contaminating our water supply = boil our water until next week, maybe. Seriously, karma is PISSED!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House
June 29, 2012
Because Some Things Just Shouldn’t Be Shared on Instagram
Alternate Blog Title: Happy 11th Birthday…OH YEAH!…and congratulations on that OTHER thing, Hopey!

It's not like I'm worried about embarrassing my kids or anything (recap: 3 of them are teens, enough said!) still, I think to myself…SELF!…think before you blog:
- Okay, so this cool/funny thing happened.
- Or that would really make an awesome story.
- OH YEAH! The other thing? Totally blog-worthy, right?
Self: Okay, great, but maybe people don't give a flying rat's tail about this, or that…OH YEAH!…and that other thing too…and, well, there's always Instagram, right?

BAH! See what I mean? All this thinking? Makes my head hurt. So, I'm just going to go on faith here and share with you this really blog-worthy thing that happened.

Aaaaand, by blog-worthy I mean:
- I messed up in some way or another and lived to tell the tale, regardless of the fact that you may or may not give a rat's tail whether I did so or not.
- I feel someone may benefit, by my messing up and then telling the tale, in some way or another and no more talk of rat's tails, okay?
In fact, if you've been reading me for any length of time (glutton for punishment, eh?) perhaps you've already benefited by my messing up in some way or another and, well, you're welcome!

Still, I promise NOT to go into any great detail (no, it's my pleasure, really!) because, well, it is somewhat of a sensitive subject and I wouldn't want to embarrass anyone or anything.

WARNING: We are about to head into female territory and the occasional mention of bodily functions may or may not be shared.

(more…)
June 25, 2012
A Blog Post NOT About Graduations, Celebrating a Birthday, Anniversary or My Kids

Because everyone loves a good pirate story, right?!?

I know, I know, though it is sort of a BIG DEAL when your oldest kid graduates high school (d'oh, sorry, won't happen again)!

I sort of try to put myself into your shoes (as difficult as it may be, seeing as your feet are so gosh-darned adorable and all) whenever writing one of these here blog posts.

Aaaaaand, all bad grammar, misspellings, incorrect use of puncuations and run-on sentences aside (because, you know, I have GOT to get this stuff out of my head, like, real fast and sometimes the fingers sort of just take over) I figured some people might get sick of hearing about this sort of stuff.

Like, having a kid old enough to grad…d'oh…you know…then again, I think to myself…SELF!…this here blog has never really been just about my kids…uh, that is to say…Those Who Shall Be Named People Living in This House (PLTH, for short).

On the other hand, PLTH have provided me with some pretty gosh-darned good blog fodder over the years.

In fact, one could argue that, if it weren't for PLTH, this blog would probably not exist.

How it survived THIS long (9 years, this September, to be exact) is beyond me and — considering that everyone and their mother is now an expert in social media — just your being here defies all logical explanation, really.

Thank you for that!

So, without further ado (sp?) I bring you a blog post NOT about graduations, celebrating anyone's birthday, anniversary or my kids.

[moment of silence]

1/3 of PLTH and we're STILL smiling.

SNORT!!! I mean, really, it is MY blog and everything. Besides, that one (up there, minus the pirate mask) is NOT a kid…not anymore…DAMMIT!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

Freshly-brewed Elsewhere: I am very honored to be working with Hallmark as a Life is a Special Occasion featured blogger, which allows me to share personal stories, insights and inspirations in enjoying simple, every day moments like this month's post about growing up on the Jersey shore (no, NOT THAT ONE!)

June 22, 2012
Sometimes Bonding With the Dentist, Alongside Your Sister, Can Be a Happy Experience

March 2010 (a.k.a. the year they stopped smiling)

Not that I have anything against dentists…personally. I feel it takes a special sort of something to actually choose a profession that involves looking into and/or tooling around in other people's mouths…on purpose.

In fact, I have personally supported many dental professionals, my ownself — I've had several root canals, as well as gum graphing and reconstructive surgery in my mid-twenties, due to a long lost and previously unforeseen baby tooth exploding in my sinus cavity (you're welcome!) — I've helped hone their dentistry skills AND achieve their long-term financial goals.

In other words dentists, or pretty much anyone involved in any aspect of oral healthcare, absolutely LOVED me!

Then, I had children and, well, nowadays, dentists are also very knowledgeable in creating really cool balloon animals and even allow younger kids to play with Mr. Thirsty (a.k.a. the spit sucker) or have several video game systems set up…in their waiting rooms…you know…for siblings to play with…on purpose.

In other words, my kids LOVED going to the dentist.

Until, they got older and, well, there are many different levels of "It's like a pinch, really" when kids hit double-digits.

Then, they reach teenhood and, well, I swear pulling teeth has GOT to be easier than getting a teenager to smile.

Trust me, having spent a little more than a third of my life waiting in a dentist's and/or doctor's office, I know — especially, with my oldest girls.

Holly and Heather have endured two years of having their teeth pulled, prodded and realigned to look like "drunken railroad tracks" (their words, not mine) and I had my doubts the Orthondontist would EVER be able to…you know…pull it/them off.

Two years ago, the Orthodontist promised to make my girls smile and boy did she EVER deliver.

BONUS POINTS: for being able to do so…3 days before Holly's senior prom…the Orthodontist happens to be a mother, of teens, as well.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

June 6, 2012
I’m Not Needy, I’m Just Giving Others the Chance to Be Helpful!

She wears bright colors to help her mother find her on the field.

I'm not very good at asking for help. What, you too?!? I know, me too!!! Is there anything I can do to help?!? Anyone I should call?!? I know people.

Aaaaaanyway, my SIL was over the other day. I'm not sure which one, exactly. I mean, I knew which SIL (she was in my wedding and everything) exactly which day it was, not so much.

They all sort of blend into a muted shade of "What the hell day is it, anyway?"

Aaaaaand, we just came off a long weekend, which means I swore Tuesday…was really Monday…at least half a dozen times before my second cup of coffee, even.

Ummmmmm, what was I saying?

[glances at wall calendar]

OH YEAH!!! Sooooo, my SIL asks me about my youngest daughter's next softball game and I'm all, like, she plays softball?!?

Heh, just kidding. I like messing with people. Which makes me calculatingly indecisive…albeit, equally annoying…and I really didn't know when her next softball game was…lack of surprise, notwithstanding.

"It's on Wednesday, Aunt Pat."

Thankfully, as the youngest of four, Hope is used to my NOT knowing this sort of stuff (off the top of my head, anyways) which is why I make sure to leave several pencils (with erasers intact) by our wall calendar and at least all of us can pretty much…you know…read Hope's writing, without much trouble.

"Isn't my dentist appointment on Wednesday?"

Seems my son has been keeping tabs on his schedule, as well, the little traitor.

"Sooooo, we'll be a little late to the game."

I can't be the ONLY one realizing that their car is running on empty (AGAIN!) a little too late, right?!? RIGHT?!?

Riiiiiiiight.

"I can take Hope to her game."

So, for the first time in, like, never, I took my SIL up on her offer to help with a solid, "Maybe, I'll let you know, okay?" and, well, it's nice to know someone has my back.

I mean, other than my husband Garth (poor guy, I knew him well or at least four times anyway) nah'mean.

"Do you need me to pick up Hope for softball, today?"

My SIL just texted me a few minutes ago and, well, seeing as these last weeks of school are about to get a little crazier (more than usual, I mean) I really do appreciate her continued confidence in my knowing whether or not Hope has a softball game…let alone, remembering what the hell day it is…I truly do treasure my SIL.

"Oh, no, thanks, that was yesterday."

Suprisingly, I made it home from the dentist's office AND was able to get Hope to the game in time to notice that there were two different t-shirt colors on the playing field and one of them was…you know…NOT hers.

THERE WAS NO GAME YESTERDAY…IT'S REALLY TODAY…YO!!!

"Besides, Garth (not his real name) already promised to take her tonight."

Because, I'm helpful like that.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

Freshly-brewed elsewhere: Partnering with International Delight in sharing a chance to win $1,000 for a kitchen makeover…DUDE!!!!…I would SO ENTER if I could 😉

May 31, 2012
The Sad World of the Misunderstood Euphemism, and Zombies
My husband, Garth (not his real name) is a good guy. I mean, like, Eagle Scout good and anyone who knows us (IRL) would most definitely agree adding, "Well, the man IS married to you."

Aaaaand, I'm okay with it (the fact that he's married to me AND the aforementioned euphemism) because, trust me, I am WELL aware of my own limitations.

Like, my inability to withstand the mechanical forces of the earth's gravitational pull (I fall down, A LOT!) or, my penchant for breaking things…okay…wait…for…it…A LOT!

Then, my lack of patience (see also: previous paragraph) is legendary, which makes me simultaneously annoying and popular with the customer service set.

Oh, and the fact that my husband left the house feeling a bit hacked-off (sorry, had kids home sick this week and have Harry Potter and The Deathly Hollows Part II on the brain) and I'm sitting here, acting all misunderstood and everything, with a bazillion OTHER THINGS I SHOULD BE DOING, LIKE:
- Clean the house: but, it's raining and the vacuum is very-nearly-dead.
- Wash the dishes: dishwasher is…wait…for…it…broken.
- Fold laundry: don't want to disturb the cat.
- Wrangle the killer dust bunnies: I believe in raising 'em free range.
- Go grocery shopping: although, I did find some hot dogs and sandwich bread.
- Get my oil changed: in the car I mean, mine is fine (I think).
- Continue ignoring the fact I've got a kid graduating high school in, like, 2 weeks: enough said.
- Prepare for the Zombie Apocalypse: it's coming, y'all.
Aaaaand, this is the part where you guys should be all…like…dude, is your husband ever coming back?

I hope so. For as much as he thinks I hate him, at the moment, truth is I love Garth (not his real name) more than my Dyson (may it rest in peace) and can't imagine celebrating another day (above ground) without him.

He is my good-er half.

Also, our niece is getting married next summer and you know the part where the officiant happily declares the newly married couple as man and wife?

It's going to take ALL of my strength NOT to holler out: brace yourselves, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!

Besides, NO ONE is better at putting their hand over my mouth, without ruining my lipstick, than Garth (not his real name) and…wait a second…I really DID mean that, literally…although, on second thought…um…never mind.

I can hear the zombies now, "No brains! Move along!"

You are safe here, my friends, stupid euphemisms.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House
May 25, 2012