This Full House Archive

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

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
And I Wonder, As I Wander
My youngest daughter and I were fighting over radio stations on the way to school, this morning (I'm a little oldies and she's a little bit, you know, LOUD) when it occurred to me that we moved into our starter home, which happens to be THIS house, on Memorial Day weekend…in 1993!

"Wow, that means, you've been walking the halls for 18 years!"

Okay, so it's STILL a 7 room house and it's not like we have THAT many halls to begin with.

Actually, only 1, on the way to the bathroom, in front of the girls' room and, well, it can get REAL scary, walking down there!

Then, I got to thinking about it some more (stupid traffic lights) and, well, she was ABSOLUTELY right.

Although, it's more like I wander, as I wonder, after 18 years, why I STILL can't remember where in the heck I put stuff.

However, I refuse to believe it's because I'm old-ish (but, I still LOOK good, dagnabit!) besides, a person's brain can hold only so much information, before it implodes, right?

It's true, I read it somewhere, in a book.

[heavy sigh]

Aaaaand, for those of you skeptics out there (yeah, I see you, way in the back, over there on the left, in the t-shirt and cut-off shorts) who STILL don't understand how a person (like me) can FORGET TO HAVE BREAKFAST, I present to you, yesterday morning:
- Squints at clock on wall.
- Dang, we're late (AGAIN!)
- Grabs coffee cup.
- Runs back to house (stupid bladder!)
- Drive to school.
- Reminded about some school event, in an hour.
- Runs home to check for email.
- Checks other emails.
- Answers emails.
- More email.
- Reaches for empty coffee cup.
- Need more coffee.
- See box of cereal left on the table.
- Squints at clock on coffee maker.
- Oh, yeah, almost forgot to eat breakfast.
- Also, need more coffee.
- Dang, got to clean out coffee maker.
- Looks out kitchen window.
- Oh, what a pretty bird.
- Squints.
- Get off the feeder, you danged squirrel!
- Dog careens passed to bark at squirrel bird.
- Spill coffee grinds.
- Stupid dog!
- Great, paper towel roll empty (AGAIN!)
- Starts walking towards garage door.
- BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK-BARKITY-BARK-BARK!
- Shuddup, Doofus!
- Ummmmmmmmm…..
- COFFEE!!!
- Walks back to kitchen.
- Dang, I'm hungry.
- Grabs cereal box.
- GAH, it's empty.
- Go to throw it away, sees coffee grinds on floor.
- DAGNABIT!!!
- Places empty box on kitchen counter.
- Gets paper towels, cleans up coffee grinds.
- STARVING!!!
- Reaches for bowl, banana and where in the heck did that cereal box go?
- D'oh!!!
- Throws banana peel into empty cereal box.
- GET OFF OFFAMY BIRD FEEDER!!!
- Stomps off to back door.
- What's THAT smell?
- Forgot to switch the laundry (AGAIN!)
- Checks bathrooms for wet towels.
- FLUSH!!!
- I drink way tooooo much coffee.
- COFFEE!!!
- Start walking back to kitchen.
- Hrmph, someone left the washing machine door…oh.
- Walk back to bathroom for towels.
- Stomach growls.
- Start back to kitchen.
- Bon Appetit, you danged squirrel bird.
- Grabs cereal bowl.
- Steps over coffee grinds.
- Picks up cereal box.
- Shakes cereal box; looks inside.
- What the…now, who in the heck put a banana peel…[one beat, two beats]
- Oh…DAYUM!
So, the next time someone tells you, "I FORGOT TO EAT BREAKFAST," just smile, nod your head and know that…you know…it COULD happen!!!

[sound of crickets]

Or, give them a cup of coffee (or, a banana) then, take them by the hand and show them the way to the bathroom, or something, thanks!!!

[UPDATE: School nurse at middle school JUST called (seriously!) son is in her office, throwing up and, well, doesn't seem like I'll be eating breakfast, lunch, or dinner…anytime soon…BLECH!]

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
May 27, 2011
I.O.U.

Our oldest is a junior (I know, still not sure how THAT happened) so, my husband, Garth (not his real name) and I attended a financial aid workshop at the high school, last night.

Because, you know, she's a junior, in high school and, well, this whole, "Holy Hannah Montana, I got a junior in high school," thing really didn't seem like such a big deal…when she was in kindergarten.

Long story, short (as of now, anyway) and 6 hand-written pages worth of notes, later (old school, I know) our best takeaway from the night?

We can now continue to talk about our kids, continuing their education, without throwing up.

Good thing, too, seeing as we'll be very, very busy, filling out paperwork, for the next 16 years.

Yes, I know, we have 4 kids and, yeah, this is EXACTLY the sort of stuff expert-types tell us we should have…you know…talked about…sooner.

Aaaand, it's totally what I expected the very expert-looking dude to tell us, last night, too.

Although, we kind of sort of, you know, already knew.

Still, the workshop was free and I was thankful to get any advice, coming from people, who get paid good money, to tell other people, you know, they don't have any money.

So, I sat there, kept my mouth shut (which, anyone who knows me, knows, quiet makes me itch) watched the expert-like dude fire up his power point, "Helping Students Pursue Their Educational & Career Goals," and cringed in anticipation

"It's never too late to start planning for college."

[heavy sigh]

I should have known, better. He wasn't wearing a tie!

Morale of the Story: "Remember, an expert is a person who tells you a simple thing in a confused way to make you think the confusion is your own fault" ~ William Castle (producer of Rosemary's Baby, so, yeah, he should know!)

Thanks, I.O.U. one, expert-like dude, along with everyone else, for the next 16 years.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

May 18, 2011
Just Don’t Get Me Monologuing, Okay?

I sat down at my desk this morning and, well, you ever have one of those days when your mental to do list is about a mile long (closer to two, even) but, you don't EVEN bother taking the time to find a pen (that works, I mean) because, well, you can't even see the top of your desk, for one thing, until you shuffle some papers around, looking for something to write on (IF you had a pen) only to expose a couple of coffee stains and maybe even a chocolate wrapper (or, twenty) speaking of which, you could probably use another cup of coffee (or, chocolate) right about now, right?

Go ahead, I'll wait.

Better? Good. What was I saying? Oh yeah, so, the weekend was a blur of errands and, well, today, I'm fighting a monster case of procrastination.

Or, what I've come to call…Frankenmonday.

[shiver]

Aaaaand, it's winning.

I should be working.

In fact, if I had started earlier, when I was supposed to, I could have accepted that last minute lunch invitation.

{Sorry, Gina!!!}

Would have even had the time to take a shower for it.

Instead, I sit here, procrastinating, feeling overwhelmed, shuffling papers, pretending I had a pen, oh, hey, wait a minute, what's this?

Well, seems my middle girl thought I would find her interpretation of a Super Mom a bit funny and, at second glance, the broom, purse, heels and canister of wipes prominently fixed on her utility belt, she's right.

SNORT!

Actually, I feel sort of, you know, invigorated.

[cracks knuckles]

In fact, I've got a whole half of the day left and soon ALL will tremble before me.

[blows bangs out of eyes]

Now, if only the dog would quit snoring on the couch, so I could hear myself think…INCREDIBLE…where IS mah super broom?!?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

May 16, 2011
Nothing Beats a First Snot-Swapping!
My husband, Garth (not his real name) attended a business-related event, last night (yes, without me, go figure) so, the kids and I were on our own for dinner (codeword: pizza) and then settled in to watch one of my most favorite movies of all time.

All 3 of my girls were absolutely enthralled with the idea of 50 First Dates and sort of fell a little in love with Adam Sandler's character, as he attempted to make Drew Barrymore's character fall in love with him…every day.

My 12-year-old son, however, thought Rob Schneider's performance as pure genius, of course.

"Didn't you say you dated a guy like that, once, Mom?"

Long story, short (you're welcome) no, it's not the first time we've watched this movie together and yes, yes I did, although he had both his eyes, the dude was missing a couple of teeth and wore Elmer's glue, instead of hair gel, don't judge.

"What was your first kiss like?"

"Well, his gums were a little slippery and his hair kept poking me in the eye."

[eyes go wide]

"No, NOT HIM and EWWWW, I mean with Daddy?"

I knew what she meant. After approximately 8 years worth of no sleep, trust me when I tell you messing with teenagers is AWESOME!

"Actually, I don't remember."

Yes I do. But, seeing as my oldest girls are well within acceptable dating range (mine, not my husband's) they don't need to know, right?

"I do, I do!"

My 9 year-old, however, was born old and, well, being the youngest of 4 just makes having to explain the birds and the bees stuff a whole lot easier, you know?

"You sneezed snot all over him, right?"

Not quite.

Even longer story, shorter (seriously, you should be thanking me) here's a quick synopsis:
- We met on a blind date.
- Went to the movies.
- Movie turned sad.
- I cried.
- Movie turned sadder.
- I sobbed.
- Clearly, they called it Dead Poet's Society for a reason.
- I blew snot.
- Garth (NHRN) handed me his handkerchief.
- HONK!
- Tried to hand it back to him.
- Told me to keep it.
- I was hooked.
- The end.
2 months later, he proposed. Garth (NHRN) and I were married 13 months after our first date and, well, 4 kids later, suffice it to say we've both sort of grown comfortable with each other's snot.

"Do you still have the handkerchief?"

[frowns]

"Ummmmm…I don't think so."

[one beat, two beats]

"Good, because that would just be SOOOOOOO weird!"

Yes, yes it would and apparently, according to my kids, even for me, go figure.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
May 13, 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

Freshly-Brewed Review: Honor a Mom & Give the Gift of Hope
Freshly-Brewed Elsewhere: 5 Simple House Rules for Scheduled Playdates

May 9, 2011
Because, Kindess Really DOES Matter

As parents (tired, wigged-out, sleep-deprived, frazzled and frustrated as we may seem) my husband, Garth (not his real name) and I continually try to teach our kids to, you know, do the right thing.

It's not easy.

Trust me — having been involuntarily drafted to the receiving side of some pretty crappy interceptions, from folks coincidentally resembling the wrong end of a horse — I know.

What, you too, isn't it ironic, totally stinks, too, right?

Still, every now and again, a person comes along, most likely when you least expect it and…WHAM!…reinforces the urge to become a lifelong member of the human race, through a random act of kindness.

Even a simple one, like, after complaining about the rash of winter storms, ripping the h-e-double-hockey sticks out of your beloved American flag (my father has flown one since as far back as I can remember…yes, THAT long) followed by a synopsis of your entire life's story (he can't help it; the man's a storytellah!) and, thinking that you've lost your audience, as she ducks out of the room and runs for cover, then, feeling a gentle tap on your shoulder and receiving the gift of a new flag, from a brand new friend.

That, my friends, will produce tears and make a man's face fold up and fall right in on itself.

"Thank you, SO MUCH!"

Personally, I find the sensation quite exhilarating, I hope it lasts!

You're turn: did you know May is National Military Appreciation Month? According to NMAM.org, there are at least a dozen easy ways to support our military, the easiest one being:

WHEN YOU SEE A PERSON IN A MILITARY UNIFORM, SHAKE THEIR HAND AND SAY, "THANK YOU FOR SERVING OUR COUNTRY"

My kids and I did and, well, it felt AWESOME!!!

There are 27 more chances (including today) to thank a soldier and, don't worry, you STILL have plenty of time.

Go ahead, I'll wait.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

More Stuff We Like: Recharge Our Troops With the Help of Operation Gratitude

May 4, 2011
Blogged in the Year of Lord-Only-Knows

I've been spring cleaning the garage (okay, for the last 15 years, but who's counting?) and, as it turns out, I'm also a little behind on updating my kids' baby books.

This is where you ask me, "So, how far behind are you?"

Seems, my last entry was in 2002, when my youngest daughter took her first steps at 10 months-old.

Hope is turning 10 years-old, in June.

However, I started blogging in 2003 and have been consistently posting my family's milestones, since then, so, there's that, right?

[sound of crickets chirping]

Like, yesterday was my husband, Garth's (not his real name) birthday, just don't ask me which one (I quit counting sometime around 2004) since, you know, in the end, it's not the years that count, it's the mileage, right?

[welcome to cricketcon'11]

So, while Garth (not his real name) and I were out trolling our favorite garden center, yesterday (stupid rain) Hope made this birthday card for her father — HAH!

Our 12-year-old son made him this one and not only does he have his father's sense of humor (28 my left foot!) Glen also appreciates the value of money and its depreciating effects on one's bank account…DAMMIT.

My 15-year-old, however, seems to have inherited her Hungarian grandmother's affinity for making people cry…especially, on their birthday.

My 17-year-old daughter drew this brilliant caricature of her father (HAH!) and, now that I blogged about it, I can reflect back and remember what my husband looks like (stupid extended banking hours) also, after uploading the pic, I just noticed that she signs her name to look like a butterfly, too.

I just love that!

"Honey, do you remember when we bought the water heater?"

In fact, I recently found myself referring back to my blog's archives for non-fluff and totally tax related purposes, only.

"Uh, no, but…wait…I blogged about it…um…okay…back in 2009!"

Too bad my husband, Garth (not his real name) didn't ask me that question, last year, right?

Stupid crickets!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

April 26, 2011
Spring Break Day 1: Chocobeast Vs Cheesecakemonster

I don't know about you…but…scaring the pudding…out of MY KIDS…like this…to the point where they will be up…fighting for leg room…IN MY BED…for the rest of the night?

You know, there better be a FREAKISHLY LARGE piece of ricotta cheesecake…waiting…just…for…me.

Just sayin'!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

April 18, 2011
Shoulda Asked the Baby Name Genie

The girls and I, along with my mom, were invited to a baby shower a few weeks ago and…uh…no…my son was not very happy about it.

"Why can't I go?"

[hands on hips]

"Because, it's for girls ONLY!"

My 9-year-old, however, was THRILLED…until…the part where they played what turned out to be some pretty fun baby shower games.

For example, to help break the ice, guests who liked the names their parents chose for them were asked to stand in the living room and those who, you know, unliked their name moved to the dining room.

My mother (a.k.a. Eva) and I happen to like our names and, even if we didn't, she and I were very happy to stay, right where we were and, you know, not have to lose our seats.

Besides, it was sort of fun watching my teenagers (a.k.a. Holly and Heather) freeze, then rock back and forth, indecisively, for once.

What?

I told them it was perfectly okay if they didn't like their names (eventually) and, since they are 17 and 15, that I would not be offended, in the least, seeing as, at this point in the game, they dislike most everything my husband, Garth (not his real name) and I say, or do, anyway.

My mother then tapped me on my shoulder, pointed toward the dining room and there was my youngest daughter (a.k.a. Hope) with her arms folded across her chest and standing, right there, in the front row.

"I wanted to be called Robin!"

The room burst into laughter (I have that affect on people, sometimes) and, well, shame on me for not listening to her, in the first place and the REAL funny thing is, Robin WAS on our list.

FLASH FORWARD TO YESTERDAY: After asking my son to take out the garbage for, like, the eleventeenth time, he just stood there, with arms folded across his chest, in the middle of the kitchen.

"WHAT?"

[frowning]

"You just called me Hope!"

Really?

"Which time?"

After hollering, for somebody, or anybody, to do something, after all these years, I sort of forget.

[hands on hips]

"My name is Glen!"

I knew that.

"How come my name doesn't start with an H, like the girls?"

Because, Heidi wouldn't have worked and I told him that there's a pretty neat story behind the reason why we chose the name, Glen (with one N only, please) but, I will save it for another blog post (you're welcome) also, Hunter Thompson was taken.

"I know, I know, it means a quiet place for salsa."

[grin]

"Actually, it's solace, Hope, not salsa."

[hands on hips]

"Actually, it's Robin!"

UGH!

"WHATEVER!"

Apparently, no one says whatever anymore and, I get it, as a parent of teens and tweens, the only thing hip about me is, you know, my hips….or, should is be are…I forget?

Morale of the Story: Picking out baby names is hard; having to explain it to your teens and tweens is even harder; just ask the Baby Name Genie!!!

Because, clearly, Ella Scarlett, Reese Delilha, Layton Maurice and Perla Danielle Thompson sound, you know, waaaaay hipper, right?

Fiiiiine, but try hollering those names, five times, real fast, go ahead, I'll wait.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

April 13, 2011