This Full House Archive

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

Best to Worst Combinations of Children
Guess How We Ranked?
A friend of mine posted this link to an article on Facebook, yesterday, stating, “Want to be happy? have two daughters,” and, seeing as three out of four of my kids are, you know, hormonally-enthused (ahem) my first thought was, WOW, we must rank pretty-gosh-darned-high, for once, dagnabit.

Apparently, we do, in the worst possible way:
“BEST” TO “WORST” COMBINATIONS OF CHILDREN
1. Two girls
2. One boy and one girl
3. Two boys
4. Three girls
5. Three boys
6. Four boys
7. Two girls and one boy
8. Two boys and one girl
9. Three boys and one girl
10. Three girls and one boy <— WHOO-HOO, THIS IS US!!!
11. Two boys and two girls
12. Four girls
Of course, results are highly subjective, however, I was relieved to learn that parents, with four children of ANY gender, in general, found it harder, with meal times, mornings and the bedtime routines stated as being more difficult.

Well…DUH!…and I mean that in the most subjective way possible.

Long story, short (I know, too late, still) it brought to mind a pretty funny thing that happened with my son, the other night.

He was sort of annoyed with his sisters (no surprise there, right?) then, had a HUGE mental blow out with his dad and me (see last parenthesis) ran up to his bedroom and this is the part where he would have SLAMMED the door…if he had one.

Instead, he came back downstairs looking for…wait for it…A HAMMER!

[eyes go wide]

“Or, do you think this would break open if I bashed it on the ground?”

Apparently, he was rummaging through his stuff, found his old ATM-style-coin-bank-type-thingies and, well, I was just sort of happy he didn’t choose something a little more, you know, bashable.

“I’ll get it open for you.”

Because, I happen to come from a family of 2 kids (one boy, one girl) and can handle stuff like this better than my husband, Garth (not his real name) who has 4 siblings, which, does NOT even rank on the charts…understandably.

Also, my father was the king of “let’s just jimmy this sucker open!”

“But, I lost the combination!”

Having also inherited our habit of, you know, losing keys.

“Hand mommy that screwdriver, over there, would ya’?”

After a few minutes, I was able to get it open (after taking out the batteries, in order to kill…I mean…quiet the stupid alarm, of course) I then sat back and watched, quietly, with extreme prejudice, not saying a word, as my son carefully extracted its contents:

* One G.I. Joe figure
* Two quarters
* One stretchy man
* One Junior D.A.R.E. badge
* A picture of his 2nd grade class trip to Sandy Hook
That last one helped us date these treasures and I half-expected my 12 year-old to go all boyteen, on me, or something.

“You know, I can’t believe I thought any of this stuff would be SO important to me!”

Me. Still. Not. Saying. A. Word.

“Boy, was I stupid!”

Morale of the Story: 2 out of 3, 3 out of 4, whatever, one day, it just won’t matter as much, oh, and in this house, we don’t need no stinkin’ combinations, either!

Or, something like that.

“You should really blog about this, mom!”

Really? Can I?

“Yeah, so I can read it, for the next time I get MAD AT YOU for NOT HAVING any MORE BOYS!”

I rest my case!!!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
April 8, 2011
Where the Earth Meets the Sky
(YES, in Jersey!)

When my kids were younger, I used to love to take them to Monmouth Battlefield State Park and not because it's just down the road from the best gosh-darned apple cider donuts made in New Jersey, either.

Although, I do not miss those double-stroller days (okay, maybe just a little) I was a bit taken aback by bittersweet moments (okay, more like suffering a major heart squeeze) as they each fondly remembered the museum to be a little, you know, bigger.

I felt the same way (sort of) but, for many different reasons…four of them, to be exact.

Still, it was a good day and there's something about the openness of "the battlefield" that makes my kids want to go all, you know, feral.

To run free. Unrestrained and out of focus, yet knowing that they are well protected from the highways, that run within a stone's throw, on either side.

Oh, I'm not saying that every day is this pretty, or promise that the road ahead isn't filled with tons of goose poop, either.

There was this one time, however, on the battlefield, when we found the exact spot where the earth meets the sky.

And, well, I just love that, you know?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

April 4, 2011
Mom Blogging Pain Scale

My mom and I were talking and both happened to glance outside her kitchen window and watched, as my 9 year-old tried to get her 15 year-old sister, who was reading a book at the time, to play with her.

Judging by her stomping off and kicking her brother's scooter, it was pretty clear to the both of us that her attempts were, you know, unsuccessful.

"I think she caught us looking."

Because, the kid quickly turned and thought better about leaving the scooter in the middle of the cul-de-sac.

"She's going to kill me, that one is."

Okay, I know, yes I was being overly dramatic (sort of) but, after 17 years of raising kids (and killer dust bunnies) I'm pretty tired at this point in the game.

Does it show?

I fully expect that they (i.e. non-parental units living in my house) will figure this out, soon enough, especially once I finally get those iron bars mounted to their bedroom window(s).

"It's never easy, no matter how old your kids get."

My mother was right, of course (just like with most other things, as I've learned over the years) I swear, she's got this sixth sense about her.

It's like the woman knows what I'm thinking, or, at least, what she thinks I need to hear.

"Nope, you never stop being a parent."

How DOES she DO that?

Then, it hit me (as the most obvious things tend to do) like a smack to the forehead.

"Moooooooom, can you PLEASE do something about her?"

It's called validation and pretty much the reason why I started contributing to the blogging community, almost 8 years ago, in the first place.

"What would you suggest…hanging…crucifixion?"

My 15-year-old suggested that a burning at the stake to be more than sufficient.

Contrary to the latest blogging statistics and demographics, I chose to go outside and scooter, instead!

"Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"

Un-motorized, even.

[sound of crickets]

Silly mom bloggers.

Edited to Add: I drew the Mom Blogging Pain Scale (not bad, eh?) but, the photo was taken by my 15 year-old and she doesn't know that I used it (yet) but, she will be okay with it, once she sees that I gave her full credit.

[heavy sigh]

Blogging used to be a lot easier, you know?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

March 28, 2011
The Writing on the Back Door
You know when stuff you read, or something someone says, makes you think so hard, that your eyes begin to cross with concentration and then you clench your jaw in absolute frustration, until you finally give up and go all:

"Look, you trying to tell me something, or what?"

Me, either.

Quite frankly, I try not to read into stuff…too much…because, well, with 2 teens and 2 tweens in the house (yeah, I know, right?) my head hurts enough, already.

Like most of my mom friends — especially, those of us raising a bunch of raging hormones, that walk and talk, but refuse to tell you ANYTHING and dang if a person couldn't go blind, rolling their eyes like that — I have become somewhat of an expert at dodging emotional grenades.

Until, one of my kids drops the h-bomb.

"I hate my life."

It doesn't matter which kid says it, really, because the sad truth of it is, each of them have said it, at least once and did I mention my youngest is 9?

"Don't you dare slam that…"

SLAM!

She's got a wicked arm, that one, which reminds me, I should really look into signing her up for softball.

What?

I mean, she is the youngest and, well, empathizing with a mom friend, whose daughter recently turned hormonal, "Welcome to the dark ages."

I quickly reassured my friend that the black cloud will indeed lift, around the time our kids turn 12.

[knocking on wood until knuckles bleed]

I didn't bother mentioning the fact that they then become teenagers, because, heck, what do I know and the poor woman looked as if she needed a Tylenol, already.

SLAM!

I'm not even sure that their bedroom door is going to hold up (related: all 3 share 1 bedroom, enough said!) it's been a loooong week, you know?

Then, I walked into the den/laundry room (mostly, laundry room) and noticed the writing on the back door (Hope likes to make lists) and, well, I fully expected to find myself at the TOP of her s-list:
- Live your life your way not how someone tells you how to live
- There is a whole world everybody can see right in front of our faces
- Our planets can be very interesting things. Like love is one of the most important things in life.
- I have a dream that we will have peace in the world.
- You can have fun one day. You don't need a special electronic. Just be creative.
- When the sun sets and rises it goes up and down almost like life. Sometimes life can get bumpy like a road.
Okay, I may not be the brightest crayon in the box (more like a dusty gray, really) but, DAYUM, if my kids aren't trying to tell me something?

Or, maybe they're just trying to drive me crazy?

[crosses eyes, clenches jaw]

Yeah, right, anybody got any Tylenol?

© 2003 – 2011
March 25, 2011
Sundays in My City:
Springtime at the Jersey Shore

I love this time of year, here in on the Jersey coast, when my kids and I feel very lucky to have quick access to some of the prettiest beaches, like our favorite at the Gateway National Recreation Area in Sandy Hook, NJ.

The parking lot fills up pretty quick in the summer. Friday, however, was the perfect day to celebrate all the good things that living in a shore town has to offer.

Like, exploring the jetty.

Or, playing chicken with the breakwater.

Getting lost, for hours, hunting for sea glass and mermaid toe nails.

Having the beach, all to ourselves, is a luxury and a perfect time for private contemplation.

Aaaand, much silliness.

Yes, Friday was a good day. In fact, seeing how this weekend is going, I'm still there…lalalalalalalalala!

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 Flickr photostream.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

Freshly-Brewed Review & Also Sharing: Staples MiniMate Shredder

March 20, 2011
Spring Forward & Two Steps Back

It was a gift from Garth's (not his real name) mother. She grew it from a cutting off of her Christmas Cactus, which came from her father's garden and it's about a bazillion years old.

It's been chewed on, pee'd on (stupid cats) and knocked over at least a dozen times (dumb dog) or so.

It never bloomed. I don't blame it, really. Still. Last year, my mother-in-law insisted that I take it outside and that it would be fine.

So, I did. Kept it out all summer, in hopes that it would bloom, in time for Christmas, or before I knocked it over with the lawn mower.

It FINALLY did….YESTERDAY!!!….after all this years….one lonely flower.

How sad is that?

But, if you look real close, passed all the chewed on leaves and the mis-matched water bowl, well, it's a real pretty flower, isn't it?

But, if you take two steps back, it's positively ironic how blindingly beautiful it looks.

There's a metaphor in there, somewhere, aaaaand, well, I just love that, you know?

Happy Love Thursday!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

March 17, 2011
She’ll Make the O List, For Sure

My youngest daughter is a habitual list maker. This weekend, I found this one taped to the kitchen wall.

Funny, these lists are almost NEVER for her.

I'm beginning to think that the kid has figured me out.

I mean, seriously, after 17 years of raising kids (and killer dust bunnies) not to mention, having yet another anniversary of my 29th birthday creeping around the corner (conspiring with the dust bunnies, not doubt) I sure could use the help.

Besides, she almost always ends my day with a snuggle and, well, how awesome is that?

Then, I read Dad's to do list.

She thought it best that he switch into his pj's, before eating dinner (practical, right?) but, on second thought, crossed off the snuggling part.

Why?

Because, the kid also knows that it takes Garth (not his real name) less than 60 seconds to, you know, fall asleep.

That, or the Doofus-Dawg has beat him to the punch and there's just no more room, dangit.

Conclusion: That girl, right there, is going to make a great organizational expert, one day, right?

Or a few thousand hours on some therapist's couch.

Either way, be sure to watch for her on Oprah.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

March 15, 2011
Where some kids throw tantrums, mine just buy lottery tickets.

I have a confession to make. Ready? Here it goes:

I love grocery shopping!

Weird thing (besides my loving grocery shopping) is I never used to like it and would much rather push an old-fashioned reel lawn mower through a field of sticky balls than have to spend half the day in a supermarket.

Now that my kids are older, well, I cannot run out of the house, or get to the grocery store, fast enough and not just because they eat stuff, all gone, without even being asked to, either.

"Where you going?"

It's nice to have kids old enough to not have to, or necessarily even want, to come with me, even if it's just to the grocery store, really it is.

"Food shopping."

Or, at least I thought.

"I want to come."

[heavy sigh]

"Me, too!"

Aaaand, not because they really, really, like me, either (trust me, I live with me, I know) still, I'm thinking, it's nice outside, the sun is shining, the grass is, uh, really wet, meh, why not, right?

Later.

"Here…why don't you guys go and buy a donut, or something!"

[eyes go wide]

"Don't worry, I'll find you."

The shopping trip was taking much longer than I expected — not to mention, more expensive by the minute — and, well, I just needed a moment to regroup and build up enough strength to get through the meat aisle.

"Can we have tacos, tonight?"

Another thing about having older kids…eventually, they WILL find you…first…no matter how hard you try to hide.

"Oh, WOW, not for what they want for their chopped meat!"

Good thing my kids like pasta, a lot.

"I'll be right back!"

My youngest (she's 9) has this habit of not having to explain herself, to me, because, clearly, I am psychic.

"I'll go with her!"

Ah, the joys of older kids.

"Okay, I'm almost done here."

Much later.

"I'm sorry, mom, but I couldn't stop her in time."

Oh, and one more thing about older kids, they sort of just show up, out of nowhere, and love to give me mini-heart attacks.

"What did you do?"

I put the last of the bags into our cart, when the child lifts her chin up from off her chest, bites her lower lip and announces in a clear voice, that she used the change from Dunkin' Donuts to buy one of those scratch-off lottery tickets.

"HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IT'S ILLEGAL!"

Honestly, I didn't know whether to laugh, or cry.

I mean, the lottery vending machine was right next to Redbox, which was right next to the bubble gum machines and, well, I guess the poor kid just really, really wanted tacos for dinner.

"She was too short to see the sign about being 18 and nobody was stopping her, either, mom."

That's because the kid was being real quiet about it and nobody ever notices a quiet kid, right?

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

"Good news is, no one is going to jail."

[eyes go wide]

"What's the bad news, mommy?"

[tosses ticket into trash bin]

"Looks like we're having pasta tonight!"

Stupid grocery shopping, dumbass economy!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

March 9, 2011
I’m not over the hill — I’m just
stuck in a sand dune, or something!

This weekend, we were invited to stay with dear friends in Cape May where the kids and I got to hike through, up and over perhaps some of the biggest sand dunes, here, in Jersey!

The view from the top was breath-taking and totally worth the burning thighs and near-to-exploding ovaries (stupid midlife!) and, yet, the day was filled with bittersweet moments of regret, too.

I was sorry that my husband had to work (someone has too, right?) and missed our ode to Ralph Macchio.

Good thing my 15yo takes awesome photographs (not to mention, gives good glare) and, well, maybe I should just let her keep the frigalicious camera [one beat, two beats] naaaaah, I mean, really, learning how to share stuff is what we do best, here at Casa de Sticky Floors and Crunchy Feet.

This capture of my youngest daughter, however, made me realize just how GROWN these kids insist on, you know, growing.

Me, too. UGH! Then again, we hiked 4 miles on this day. Besides, after 17 years of raising kids and killer dust bunnies, well, life has a way of catching up on a person, everywhere.

Sort of like this cool light bulb I found; a little grazed on top and all rusty on the bottom (you're welcome!)

Yes, alright, I admit it, I'm old(ish) slightly overdone and perhaps a wee bit passed my freshness date, than your average blogging mom…I mean.

[borrows glare from 15yo]

I am, however, also very happy (AM SO!) especially, since the kids and I seem to be able to enjoy each others company.

Dare I say, even a little more, now, than when they were babies, maybe, because I'm not so worried about counting heads, or chasing after them, at the beach?

Aaaaand, okay, maybe my baby days ARE over (light bulb, rusted) but, my job, here, is far from done, my friend, and well, I'm just glad I remembered to pack my comfy sneakers.
And, maybe a snack…also, a cell phone…so, I can google the nearest bathroom…stupid beach, dumbass bladder!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

March 7, 2011
WWMSD?

If you were to ask me to sum up this entire winter, using just one color, I would paint you a less than prettiful picture and describe the feeling as being similar to the consistency of pea soup.

Seems like we've had a sick kid in the house, every weekend, since Christmas break and maybe because, you know…we have…had a sick kid…in the house…since Christmas break.

This week, it was my youngest's turn (she's 9) which, considering she is the youngest (i.e. been there, done that, easily entertained) a case of strep throat doesn't sound like such a big deal, really.

Unless, she is the kid who NEVER gets sick.

Aaaand, then, she'll spike fevers (always at night) and nearly drown in her own mucus (ditto) thick enough to plaster the walls, twice, to the extent where I am actually afraid of leaving her alone, or even bother with getting dressed.

"I'm bored!"

"Why don't you paint something?"

"But, I can't find a paint brush."

Then, finally, a glimpse of normality and, well, although our lives are not always perfect (okay, more like never) and I won't be voted the bestest, most craftiest mom, anytime soon (if, ever) I can at least try and focus on the beauty of simple, little things, again, or today, anyways.

Like, being thankful that I did NOT throw away that old glass vase…afterall.

Or, this one. Even if we still can't find a dagnab paint brush, to save my gosh-darned life…dagnabit!

Gee, I wonder what Martha Stewart would do?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

March 3, 2011