This Full House Archive

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

Don’t Have a Zombie Name for BlogHer?
Go Ahead and Get One (I’ll Wait!)
One of the things I'm looking forward to the most about attending the BlogHer Conference, next week (besides, enjoying the company of online friends and meeting up with co-writers, some for the very first time, not to mention, the whole, yah, San Diego is GORGEOUS thing, of course!) is attending the Old School Blogging session.

Not only are 2 of my most favorite people in the whole wide web, Jenn and BusyMom, speaking (Melisa and I have reserved the front row, just so you know) seeing as I will also be celebrating my 8th Blogiversary, in September, I feel as if we are INDEED kindred spirits.

(AM SO!)

I am also honored to be able to call them out as very dear friends, IRL, too (yes, they know about it!)

Why? Is that weird? It's not meant to be, really.

We've shared the ups, downs and somewhere in-betweens of blogging, while under the influence of children, for 8 years, now (not an easy feat, by the by) and each of us has, quite literally, watched our kids grow up, online.

Because, contrary to all the reports about blogging being passé, or very nearly dead (at best) there are some things that don't translate well on Facebook, or Twitter.

So, at the risk of sounding all mushy (I know, E., too late!) I thought it would be fun to wear my new Zombie Name Tag proudly at BlogHer, this year:

Seeing as I'll be very surely, nearly dead, by this time, next week, anyway, preparing for a 6 hour plane ride and all (Dramamine is my co-pilot!)

Either way, if you are a blogging newbie, or a first-timer to this particular conference circuit, as a 5 time attendee, my best advice (unsolicited as it may be) can be summed up in 3 simple bullets:
- Do NOT sweat it, my friend (we are ALL as nervous, as you are, I promise)
- Blogging is most assuredly alive and STILL kicking creative ass (see blogroll above)
- There is plenty of room for everyone (even dorks, like me)
Just don't make me have to bite you, okay?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
July 25, 2011
Haven’t Slept in Days, I Blame Harry Potter

I was emailing, back and forth, with a friend, early today, when I noticed something funny.

Not like, in, ha ha, funny (I need at least 2 cups of coffee for that to happen) but, more like, hey, wait a minute, that sentence didn't read like that…in my head…anyway.

Which is when I realized something.

Not ONLY do I talk in my sleep (you lucky BlogHer roomies, you!) but, I think real fast, when I write, too.

However, I'm not sure if it's because my mind is used to racing…ALL THE TIME… or, if my fingers just can't keep up and, um, what are we talking about, again?

OH YEAH…I remember now…Harry Potter.

Actually, I was really looking forward to Harry Potter 2 and my 15yo's best friend (since the 2nd grade) was moving to Florida, with his family, the next day, so, I was more than happy to give them once last chance to, you know, hang out.

Standing in line, for an hour, with a couple of 12yo boys (my son tagged along with his bff, however, this was a last minute thing, so the 15yo's had separate tickets, were seated within 5 minutes AND our theater just happened to be the last one to empty out right before midnight, go figure) insisting that, YES, of course I will remember to buy them popcorn, once the movie started (liar, liar) not so much.

So, of course, I had to tweet about it and lucky my friend @melisalw was, you know, still awake.

We FINALLY took our seats (4th row, center, my neck still hurts) at a minute passed midnight and, for the next couple of hours, I literally could NOT take my eyes off the screen and the boys didn't seem to mind the fact that, you know, I forgot ALL about the popcorn.

The movie was THAT good and, well, 2 out of 4 of my kids can now add "Watched the sun come up," to their, "What I did for summer vacation," list.

Right next to "host a playdate with a brand new friend," and "have a Hula hoop contest," oh and "travel into New York City" to see whose spit lands the closest to Jersey (fyi: 12 yo boys seem to really excel at this, just so you know!)

The fact that…YES!…we did all this (and more) at the SAME time, within a 48 hour period, is very relevant to the reasoning behind the title of this post (I think, maybe, I dunno, I forget) BUT, it IS the quickest and simplest excuse to why I most probably will be talking with my hands, too, at BlogHer, next month, and my obvious penchant for writing perhaps the longest paragraphs, in blogging history, really.

Aaaaand, like my busted flip flops and the blisters on my mangled feet, I'm sticking to it (you're welcome!) where's the coffee?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

July 18, 2011
Holy Hula Hoops,Triple-Tasking Girl!

Three weeks into our summer vacation, things are going pretty smoothly and by that I mean, at the end of the day, we're all feeling a bit tired (in a good way) not to mention, sun-kissed and slightly pool-drunk from one too many belly flops.

Of course, I meant to do that and yes…IT HURTS…like a son of monkey's uncle, riding on my back, along with the rest of his family and a couple of his monkey-like friends, while singing, "It's hard out here for a chimp, like me," too.

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Sorry, clearly I'm finding it increasingly challenging, as the social director, here at Camp This Full House, year after year and, well, now that my kids are older?

"So-and-So invited me to the pool club…What's-Her-Name invited me to lunch…I got a job interview, this afternoon…"

It's really not so bad.

"Aaaaand I'm taking the car!"

Really, it's not.

"Wait, what about me?"

Unless, you happen to be the youngest camper.

"Well, you can have a friend over."

Aaaaand, all of your friends happen to be out or having fun, you know, someplace else.

[heavy sigh]

"Sorry, give me a few minutes and we'll do something, together, okay?"

Honestly, the poor kid's heard me say it enough times, I'm actually thinking about putting it on a t-shirt.

"That's what you ALWAYS say."

See what I mean?

"Hey mom, LOOK!"

Long story, short (I know, too late, still) I looked up to see this coming right at me, a few minutes later:

LESSON LEARNED: NO…I don't have very good balance…okay, NEVER have…YES…it would be nice to be able to multi-task, with such grace and cuteness, like that…and NO…I don't know where the heck she gets it from, either, DAGNABIT!!!

Now, if you'll excuse me, the pool is calling and then Triple-Tasking Girl and I are going out for an iced mocha…after Holly gets home with the car, first…of course!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

July 7, 2011
Not My Daughters, Most Likely, My Son

Over the years, I've learned to expect less than favorable opinions, from other people, upon learning that I have 4 kids.

Then, when other people find out I have 3 daughters, who ALL share the same bedroom, the shock sets in and, well, yes, it is just as complicated and delicate of a situation as anyone can imagine.

All I can say is, thank goodness we have a REALLY BIG backyard and, when hormone levels begin to rise and, add in the closeness of summertime, threaten to reach epic proportions (like, yesterday) I can toss them ALL in the swimming pool and, hopefully, avert a nuclear meltdown.

Mine, too!

Being a girl is really, really hard. I know. My daughters sometimes forget, I used to be one. Once. A long time ago.

However, I wasn't allowed to play organized sports, even though I was really good at soccer and could pretty much run circles around the boys, when playing "for fun" at the Hungarian Club.

With my sincerest apologies, in advance, to Mia Hamm's mother, it was a boy's sport and both my parents worked during the day AND cleaned office buildings, together, in the evenings, during most sporting practices, anyway.

It wasn't in their nature to, you know, ask for help.

Besides, they had me to help cook, clean and were grooming their daughter to be perhaps the best that they could have expected, at the time, given their upbringing.

Frankly, there are worse things (trust me, I've heard their stories) and my parents have since admitted, as their daughter, I've far surpassed any and all of their expectations (mine, too!)

They ARE terrific grandparents and have been there, for my kids, sharing in nearly every milestone and a few unexpected surprises, as well.

Funny backstory: after a long day of furniture shopping and helping my parents plan their move, we stopped for lunch and my father actually cheered, out loud, when my oldest got her period at McDonalds.

While, 30 years earlier, I got in trouble, BIG TIME, for leaving a pack of Kotex on the bathroom sink.

Still, I try and make it a point to thank them, whenever I can, for helping to make me the person, who I am…right now.

I am…the mother of 3 very spirited daughters, who are confident and, although they don't like each other, very much, sometimes (okay, a lot) there's unconditional love, in there, somewhere, albeit wet and perhaps even a little sticky.

Oh, and I also have a son, who likes to cook, bake and knows how to separate his laundry (okay, so my mother taught him) and…YES…I expect him to make someone a REAL good wife, most likely, some day.

Just, not my daughters.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

July 1, 2011
Times Fun When You’re Having Flies

Not unlike many cultures, growing up, my twin brother and I spent a lot of time with our grandmother — especially, in the summertime.

Some of my fondest memories are of helping Nagy Mama cook Sunday dinner, or tend to her vegetable gardens, while listening to awesome stories "from the old country."

To be REAL honest, there were a few downright scary moments when I think she, along with others of the grandparent-ly-type, made up half of these so-called folktales, just to scare us kids into, you know, being good.

So…YES!…I have taken poetic license in re-telling some of these stories…to MY children.

Like, when exploring Uncle John's and Aunt Cheryl's farm, looking for freshwater crawfish (WHAT!?!?) apparently, Jersey's got 'em, who knew?

Aaaand, finding this little dude, instead, then telling my kids that…YES!…it is most definitely a wishing frog .

Which, upon closer inspection, he (or, she???) was obviously ready, willing and seemed to be quite comfortable, actually, in granting us audience, big or small.

Ahhhhhh…but, there IS a catch…you have to catch him, first.

Then…and ONLY then…can you make your wish.

Unless, you find a tall, dark and really, really brave mom-type blogger (preferably, descended from a long line of warrior princesses) to, you know, do it, for you.

Because, contrary to what the Grimm Brothers may have told you, it's really bad juju to kiss a frog (see disclosure, below.)

Go ahead, make a wish (you know you want to) but, don't say I didn't warn you…OH!…and you're welcome!!!

Disclosure: Just so you know, this blog post is for entertainment purposes, ONLY. I am in no way advocating the kissing of frogs. In fact, it's probably a REAL bad idea, as some frogs can give humans tapeworm cysts and salmonella poisoning. (See also: EWWWW and GAG ME WITH A SHOVEL!!!!) It's okay, though, because I didn't really kiss him/her, made sure to wash my hands (before and after) and, truth be told, the frog didn't look too happy about the idea, either. SHEESH!!!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

June 27, 2011
Perfection is So Over-Weeded

My friend Diana wrote a wonderful blog post on the acceptance of messes (feeling pride in tending to her less than perfect garden) and, well, for me, hers is such a timely story.

My parents always kept a vegetable garden. Growing up in an urban area, surrounded by ironworks, factories, several blocks of shared housing, warranting little more than a quick glance, before the traffic light changes, we were one of the few families to do so, in our neighborhood, anyway.

Still, their vegetables were always so beautiful and, my kids spent hours playing in their green house, when they were little.

Small as it was, our backyard became an oasis and, from the moment you walked through the rose arbor, you'd forget your troubles, become deaf to all the noise outside the garden gate and, well, it was REAL nice to feel privy to that sort of peace, even for just a little while.

Then, my husband Garth (not his real name) and I began looking for a house and, as small (and full) as it is, right now, I am very, very thankful for our REAL big backyard, too.

My parents surprised us, that first year, by planting a vegetable garden, while we were away (I forget where, or why) and, well, life was good.

18 years, 4 kids, 3 cats, 1 Doofus-Dawg and a myriad of OTHER things that I just don't even want to, you know, think about, right now (maybe later) and the garden, well, this is the first summer I have considered “not dealing with it,” either and, you know what?

I did, anyway. Because, as small and overcrowded with weeds as my vegetable garden is, right now, I could not imagine a summer without being able to go outside and, you know, dig in the dirt.

Aaaaand, in the process, perhaps even weed out my mommy brain, just a little, you know?

Thanks SO MUCH for the reminder, Diana.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

June 24, 2011
3,650 Days

As a mom of a 17, 15 and 12 year-old, other than scraping teeth on utensils, or chewing and speaking at the same time (shiver!) things don't bother me as much, as they did, when ALL 4 of my kids were in single digits…at the same time (double-shiver!)

But, this kid…right here…just turned 10 today and, well, I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that my oldest is now a legally licensed driver.

Or, that my middle girl is turning 16 at the end of this year and how much older than 15 that sounds, right about now.

Cape May 2011

Never mind, that my son's next birthday will mark the "Holy Hannah Montana what do you mean we have 3 teenagers in the house," point in our lives where my husband, Garth (not his real name) and I won't be able to use each of my pregnancies as a time line, to remember stuff, for very much longer.

Cape May 2007

Like, how this post is supposed to be about Hope's 10th Birthday and here I am, going on about her siblings and, well, that's how it goes, when you are the youngest, right?

But, this kid…right here…makes us laugh AND cry (especially, whenever she feels the need to interject herself in a conversation and correct one of us, which is often) like no one else we know (she's usually right, btw!)

Although, sometimes Hope will swear that she is ALWAYS last and that no one EVER listens to her, she has single-handedly managed to claim an especially squishy spot in each of our hearts.

Because, Hope IS a mashup of ALL that is good in our lives at the moment and, now that she's crossed-over to double digits, too (SOB!) I can't think of a better reason to celebrate, than this:

From Day 1 to Day 3,650 (or, 3,652.42199, including, leap year) there is and always will be ONLY one Hope — a.k.a. Queen of the Cat Daddy.

Happy 10th Birthday, Hopey!

P.S. After careful consideration, I've decided to surprise Hope and take her to get her nails done after school, today. I understand, she's only 10 (see above) but, it's the ONLY thing on this kid's birthday list and, considering I'm her mother, it's really not a whole heck of a lot to ask, is it?

P.P.S. Besides, she's MY kid…soooooooo…pppfffbbbllltttt!!!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

June 16, 2011
Maybe This Time, She’ll Stay…Parked.

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

June 13, 2011
Times I Wish Photogenicism Was Hereditary

I was going through my Picasa albums in an attempt to segregate my photos from those my middle girl took, considering Heather's pictures are waaaaaaaay better than mine (DAGNABIT!) they just might give her digital cooties, or something.

I noticed something. Hope is my youngest and, at the risk of sounding all, you know, weirdish (YES, it's a word!) I swear, this child is photogenically gifted.

Winter, spring, fall, miffed at her oldest sister knocking her disk into oblivion while playing shuffle board (she looks totally like her father in that one!) seriously, you can NOT take a bad picture of this kid.

Me, on the other hand, I can strike the most unattractive pose, without even trying and, well, the only saving grace, in my opinion, are my eyes and, still, I almost always manage to come off looking like a, you know, weirdo.

Then, I found this one, from attending my 11th consecutive Fun Day, last week. What did I tell you? Dang if the girl didn't make me look good, too!

"My, you ALL have such beautiful red hair!"

Hope's teacher is really sweet, although, she does have this habit of making me go…um…what?

[looks left, right and left again]

"You AND your girls!"

OHHHHHHH, yeah, me and mah girls, have the same dark eyes and, although we go from curly, to wavy, to scared straight it just may ALL fall out, by tomorrow (guess which one, go ahead, I'll wait) you can pretty much tell we all come from the same gene pool.

Aaaaand, would you believe, they actually agreed to be seen with me, in public, untanned, in support their baby sister. By the end of the afternoon, they were sort of holding me up, too, can you tell?

"Pssst, Mom…but, she knows our hair is NOT red, for real, right?"

[sound of crickets chirping]

OHHHHHHH…HEY!…look, did you know, I also have a son?

Aaaaand, he's blonde, with the coolest eyes, sometimes (seriously, they change color) and what did I tell you, the girl can take some really awesome pics, for real, right?

© 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!

June 8, 2011
Boom, Boom, BOOM!

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!

June 6, 2011