This Full House Archive

Category: Raising Teens, Tweens & Killer Dust Bunnies

Ice, Ice, #Nemo

We heard it was coming, a few days after experiencing our first earthquake and it was supposedly to be one of the biggest storms to hit Jersey in recent memory: Hurricane Irene blew in late Summer of 2011, which suddenly sounds like a really long time ago.

Aaaaand, then Superstorm Sandy hit the east coast last October, nearly knocking us back into the stone ages, changing the face of New Jersey, forever.

So, yeah, I was a little nervous when tracking our first major winter storm since even before the hurricanes hit, especially one named after a cheeky fish.

Nemo was much kinder to us than our neighbors in North Jersey, but I'm pretty sure that friends and family in New England are STILL digging their way out.

I spent the first few hours of Saturday morning, peering out our front door, willing the snow to melt, hoping that it would thaw out in time for me to take my oldest daughter to work.

You see, I don't do snow, or at least I don't drive in it very well. I had a pretty bad car wreck the first year I started to drive (YES, they had rubber wheels back then, be quiet, child!) and, well, I can still hear the CRUNCH in my ears, as my car was being rear-ended and my forehead hit the steering wheel.

I woke up in the hospital to find out that…YES!…apparently, a person can so sprain their esophagus.

"Do you want me to drive, Mom?"

My oldest is super-soft spoken (no, she does NOT get it from me!) but, I still jumped as if my daughter was talking into a bullhorn and nearly swallowed my coffee mug.

"No, I would much rather you call in sick."

Yeah, great role model…I know…and I realize that she has been driving for over a year now and will need to practice driving in snow, sometime, just not nearly a foot and on her first attempt.

Good thing she wasn't scheduled to work at the hospital until midday, it took all morning for my son to chip away at the ice and snow that Nemo dumped all over our car (another advantage to having older kids, free labor!) and only now do I realize the irony: the daughter of the world's clumsiest and most accident-prone woman WOULD work in a hospital.

"C'mon Mom, you're just making yourself more nervous, you'll be fine."

Aaaaaaad, that very fine line between parent and child (trust me, it's there) was blurred, once again, by my inability to shake stuff off and get over myself, already.

"Besides, you're the one who taught me how to drive…remember?"

Yes, yes I did and she's a gosh-darned good driver (in spite of it) so I guess there is still a little hope for me, yet.

"Hang on a second, I'll grab my coat."

Besides, the last time I attempted to drive in weather like this, I abandoned my car in the school parking lot and walked home, with all four kids in tow, while snow continued to fall…sideways…and I didn't have a coat.

But, NOT this day.

"Thanks Mom, I'm proud of you!"

Tell you the truth, having made it there in one piece AND without embedding my fingers into the steering wheel, permanently, I was pretty gosh-darned proud of myself, too.

"I'll see you after my shift!"

Nope, but I didn't bother to tell her that her father would be picking her up, later that night, and I really shouldn't have to explain why…this LATE in the game…now, do I?!?

Stupid ice, dumbass Nemo.

© 2003 – 2013 This Full House

February 11, 2013
Together Counts: Desperately Seeking Healthy Living Through Energy Balance

As a mom of 3 teens and with our youngest insisting that I quit calling her the baby (she’s turning 12 this year, enough said!) I feel it safe to tell you that the secret to balance is really quite simple, because there is NO secret: balance is all a matter of perspective.

Maintaining a healthy lifestyle, while running in 6 different directions (sometimes, all in the same day) and having to plan meals around our collectively busy schedules — not to mention, those late night, last-minute school projects, due yesterday — without one (or all) of us experiencing the proverbial crash and burn is a challenge my family and I face, every day.

That is why I am very honored to partner with TogetherCounts.com as an ambassador and contributor blogger to the Together Counts blog for 2013.

(more…)

February 11, 2013
28 Days of Impact: Why Are We Still Talking About Polio?
28 Days of Impact is a blog relay celebrating the impact vaccines have on children in developing countries every day for the month of February. Today I get to take a shot at it, here's my contribution:

Photo by Mary Ellen Mark /Real Simple magazine

Ann Lee Hussey contracted Polio when she was only seventeen months old in 1955 and suffered with the disease as a child. It paralyzed her from the waist down and she spent several weeks in the hospital. She has had countless treatments, can walk with limitations and now believes that she suffers from Post-Polio Syndrome (or PPS).

Although she admittedly fears PPS (the symptoms can significantly interfere with an individual's ability to function independently) Ann is dedicated to fighting Polio a world away.

Personally, I can remember receiving vaccines in grade school: my classmates and I would march into the gym, line up and nervously wait for our turn. However, I was very, very relieved to hear whispers that the school nurse was actually "dripping" the Polio vaccine onto a sugar cube.

I hated shots (still do!) and I am what many doctors have since clinically, yet delicately, labeled as "a fainter".

The fear of needles is a very difficult thing to overcome (trust me, I know, having suffered from tonsillitis as a child and endured dozens of penicillin shots, my backside STILL hurts just thinking about it) until I started having children.

Raising 3 teens and 1 tween has pretty much helped me get over a lot of stuff: like my fear of needles, or fainting at the sight of blood (especially, if it is mine!) not to mention, cleaning up after my children and basically every bodily function known to parenthood.

Thankfully, I don't have to worry about stuff like my children contracting Polio or Measles and yet it is incredible for me to think that a child dies every 20 seconds from a vaccine preventable disease.

Photo credit: End Polio Now/Rotary

Not when there are folks like Ann Lee, working on the ground to help ensure that all children have a shot at a healthy life, who has personally taken part in more than 20 immunization
trips to help eradicate Polio, worldwide.

How? By helping parents (like you and me) understand that:
- Vaccines are very safe, simple and one of the most cost-effective ways to save and improve the lives of children worldwide.
- Vaccines work
- Vaccines currently help save 2.5 million children from preventable diseases every year.
- Vaccination efforts have already made a difference. Thanks to the Global Polio Eradication Initiative, the number of cases of polio has dropped 99 percent and the Measles Initiative has vaccinated one billion children in 60 developing countries and has decreased measles deaths by 71 percent.
- Vaccines can level the playing field so that all children, no matter their circumstances, have a shot at a healthy life.
Okay, now it's your turn.

You can help sustain the impact by sending an email to your member of congress. Welcome your members to the 113^th Congress and ask them to make sure that global health and vaccines are a priority in the new Congress. Take action and make an impact!

Because, honestly, we really need to stop talking about Polio and give it the virtual bitch-slap it deserves!

This story comes from Rotary International and is part of Shot@Life’s ’28 Days of Impact’ Campaign. A follow up to Blogust to raise awareness for global vaccines and the work being done by Shot@Life and their partners to help give children around the world a shot at a healthy life. Each day in February, you can read another impactful story on global childhood vaccines. Tomorrow, don’t miss Roxanna's post on Everyday Treats! Go to www.shotatlife.org/impact to learn more.

© 2003 – 2013 This Full House

Disclosure: No payment was received for this blog post, this is my contribution to giving Polio the bitch-slap it deserves….YO!!!
February 9, 2013
Out of the Picture

This is a post that I have written AND deleted many, many times and for very different reasons, mostly because it is not a very nice story and, honestly, unlike our house (IRL) I do prefer to keep my blogging world as light (and airy) as possible.

Also, it is not my story to tell (not all of it, anyway) and, although very few childhood images remain as clear in my mind, some memories are best left forgotten, right?!?

Truth be told, I was more concerned with my children inheriting the same self-perpetuating fear that I've had to live with for the last 40+ years: questioning myself, over and over again, whether or not there was anything I could have done or said to prevent it from happening to me, this is the legacy of domestic violence.

In other words, what they don't know can't hurt them…and won't, if I have anything to do with it…DAMMIT!

Nagy Mama, Aunt Theresa and my Mom (standing) c. 1956

Then I recently came across this picture of women I have loved and admired all my life. I pinned it to the bulletin board, right above my desk. I adore and cherish this picture on so many levels, but most of all because they are all smiling.

Also, there is a reason why it seems slightly off-center: I had cut out the image of my grandfather, long ago.

Still, I felt a wave of nausea and had to fight to keep from getting sick.

I did not invite my grandfather to my wedding and he's never met my children. In fact, the man has been dead (figuratively and literally) to my (and my aunt's) family for years now, but I was suprised how just the simple thought of him could STILL hold such power over me.

I turned the picture over in my hand, found writing on the back (it was grandmother's) and then I cursed myself for not translating it first.

What I could make out: it was taken in the small village where they lived, right before the Hungarian Revolution broke out, and judging by my mother's and aunt's age (at the time) probably right before they immigrated to the U.S.

Without my grandfather. Yes, my grandmother left her husband behind, on purpose.

Back-story: he followed them here, lying about their separation to a social worker, who gave him the address of their foster family, so that he could reunite with his wife and children.

This is the part of the story that is not ALL mine to tell: suffice it to say, he was the type of man to hide food from his starving children. True story.

I can tell you: my earliest memory is of him, hitting my grandmother hard enough to knock her into the next room…right in front of me.

Thinking on it some more, I probably should have asked my mother's permission, before cutting his image from the picture, but deep down inside I know she most likely would agree: my heart was in the right place; we are ALL in a much better place.

If only I could cut away the pain he's caused our family, just as easily — most especially, now that both my grandmother and aunt have passed.

On the other hand, my children's memories of their grandfather ARE very, very different; they WILL be better wives, husbands, mothers and fathers in spite of it.

I win!

© 2003 – 2013 This Full House

Are you a victim of domestic violence? Call or text the National Domestic Violance Hotline: Peer Advocates are available for assistance and support 24/7. Text “loveis” to 77054 or call 1-866-331-9474 or 1-866-331-8453 TTY or chat live online.

February 6, 2013
Taking a Backseat

Traveling with younger kids is hard, trust me, I know. Our minivan has plenty of battle scars — not to mention, unidentifiable stains, which will stay that way, because, seriously, I don't even WANT to know!

I am STILL finding petrified food, circa 2006.

My husband, Garth (not his real name) refers to the minivan as the S.S. Movable Feast, ever since the ant infestation…that ONE time…and who knew ants have a very keen sense for fishy crackers, right?!?

[sound of crickets, chirping]

I have clocked in a lot of miles, driving kids to and from…well…everywhere and spent countless number of hours…sitting in traffic…or fighting my way through parking lots, sometimes ALL in the same day.

I grew accustomed to it, pretty quickly, and often times would steal a brief glimpse of my kids in the rear view mirror, staring at the back of my head or slumped in their car seats, fast asleep.

I also became quite adept at back-handing them their juice boxes (fishy crackers, not so much) while we discussed real meaning of life sort of stuff.

Like, what happens when you hold your nose, fart and sneeze at the same time? Would your brain ooze out of your ears or your eyes bleed boogers?

The answer, by the way, is: not yet.

My kids grew up in our minivan (me too!) and, now that my oldest is driving and with the middle girl applying for her learner's permit this spring (HOLD ME!), I am slowly beginning to get used to the idea of not having to drive…especially, if I really don't want to…sort of.

Today, I feel it safe to say: traveling with grown kids is even harder, because this is what happens when your 14 year-old reaches 6 feet on the measuring wall.

Guess I should start getting used to this view, eh?

© 2003 – 2013 This Full House

January 30, 2013
Must Remember, Don’t Call Him Baby
My son turned 14, this week. The same kid who was 4 and just entering pre-school for the first time when I started blogging. So, forgive me but, I'm going to sit here and let that sink in for a few seconds.

WAHHHHHHHH!!!!

There, much better. Wait, seems I'm not quite finished, not yet.

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Seriously, kids grow, they get older (as do we, dammit) and so we carry on, as most parents do. We live our lives and try really hard not to injure, maim or otherwise harm each other (too badly), business as usual, right?!?

So, you think I would get over myself and quit getting all…you know…my baybeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees are soooooooooooooooo grown, already.

Still, he IS my only son and I am getting better at realizing that my baby…ahem, I mean that guy up there…is probably much more interested in impressing a girl and more likely to be embarrassed by his mother.

My girls, not so much.

The night of his birthday, we ALL decided to go to my son's wrestling meet — much to his surprise, too. His sisters don't usually enjoy watching middle-schoolers getting their faces planted into some 8th grader's armpit, they're funny like that.

Me? I cover my eyes. Much less painful to watch.

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Aaaaaanyway, we piled onto the last remaining bleacher (who knew middle school wrestling was SO popular, eh?) and settled ourselves directly in front of a bunch of 8th grade girls.

I learned a few very important lessons, that night. For example, 8th grade girls today:
- Have no trouble dropping the f-bomb
- Especially, in front of OTHER parents
- And their teachers
- Very, very LOUDLY
- 8th grade girls are NOT like I remember
Long story, short (you're welcome!) they stayed long enough to watch one of their boyfriends wrestle and then left.

[cue choir of angels]

Aaaaand, it's not just me…shaking my virtual cane, again…my older girls were enraged…EN-friggin-RAGED…because, apparently, one of them happened to mention her interest in my son.

Noooooo, I didn't hear it, because I'm observant like that and I was too busy covering my eyes.

Later, on the drive home, the girls were describing the 8th graders to my son and it suddenly occurred to me: they were actually interrogating their brother.

"Soooooo, did you, like, you know, recognize any of them, or anything?!?"

You know, so as to gauge his interest in the possibility of ever, ever, NEVER dating one of them (EVER!) and his sisters were being much, much more subtle about it than I would have.

"Nope, those girls are stupid."

[sound of angels, weeping]

I'm not sure if my son was being casual, or evasive about it (he's 14, enough said) either way, I quickly interjected something about individual maturity levels developing at different rates…yada, yada, yada…when what I was really saying is "DAMN SKIPPY!" in my head, anyway.

"Nope, they're just stupid."

At least, this week anyway.

"Aaaaand, one of them just texted me."

[one beat, two beats]

"How the HECK did she get my number?"

Even longer story, shorter (seriously, almost done!) here's something else I learned:
- 8th grade girls have no problem asking a boy, for ANOTHER boy's number.
Aaaaaand, then send derogatory texts to that same boy…when they are dissed…while he is STILL in the car…with his mother. So, forgive me but, I'm going to sit here and let that sink in for minute.

STUPID GIRL!!!!

There, much better. Wait, seems I'm not quite finished, not yet.

Texting: oh, sorry, this is his mom, he left his cell phone in the car again, but I'll be glad to give him the message and please be sure to say hello to your mother for me. Kbai.

NOW, I'm done.

© 2003 – 2013 This Full House
January 25, 2013
Office Supply Heaven (Sort of Like IKEA, for Geeks!)

Ever since I was a little girl (never mind when and YES they had rubber wheels, on cars and everything, back then!) I've had this thing for office supplies. Perhaps, it's because my mom kept her desk in my bedroom (I grew up in a 5 room house, enough said!) and, every now and again, she would allow me to go nuts with her roller stamp: PAID, CANCELED, COMPLETED, RECEIVED…URGENT!

[blank stare]

I was a senior in high school, when I got my first job working for the board of education as a file clerk and you'd think they'd given me the keys to the geekdom of office supply heaven: I collated, color-coded and stapled the hell out of those nasty little pendaflex folders.

[sound of crickets, chirping]

After graduation, I worked as a secretary, then a bookkeeper and moved onto customer service (back when you actually spoke to a live person, I mean) where I slowly developed a thing for post its, dry erase boards and pens of many, many different colors.

[shiver]

Then, I had kids and, well, I recently found a stack of Gooseberry Patch wall calendars dating back to 2003, the year I developed an affinity for mail order catalogs and prettiful wall calendars.

The thing is, now that my kids are older (me, too, dammit!) and having spent a small fortune on back-to-school supplies, for the last 13 years, I've grown a bit…ummmmm…stingy when it comes to the kids borrowing (with the intent of never returning) MY office supplies.

Related: ask a teen where he(she) left his(her) coat/hat/scarf/head and you'll get a blank stare, however, he(she) WILL find that extra pack of whatever it is you've been hiding, wherever it is you thought he(she) would NEVER think to look for it.

So, this morning, I was NOT pleased to find we were ALL out of pens AND needed a new wall calendar….I was THRILLED!!!…YAY!!!!!!!…time to go to the office supply store, i.e. IKEA, for geeks.

I love the smell of fresh, new office supplies in the morning!

I got there before the doors opened (Monday-Friday 8AM-9PM; Saturday 9AM-9PM; Sunday 10AM-6PM) and even the store manager was all, like:

"Gooooooooooooood morning, it's a beeeeeeeeautiful day here in geekdom!"

Flash-forward 2 (give or take 20) hours, later: I got home and immediately began to re-organize my desk, label folders for 2013 and was about to collate, color-code and staple the hell out of my new and totally nasty little pendaflex folders.

Then, a family emergency erupted (SIL has a wicked case of the flu, she'll be fine) and I later came home to find someone…who shall remain nameless…HOPE!!!…wrote all over my brand new wall calendar.

So, after reprimanding the child (relax, she's a bigger geek than I am) I reminded my youngest that she has her own calendar (see previous parenthesis) and then asked her to erase all her bff's birthdays off of MY calendar.

"I can't!"

[one beat, two beats]

"I wrote it in Sharpie!"

Note to self: find a better hiding place for the damned Sharpies.

"I also saw you got new pencils, pens, push pins, binder clips, white-out, tape, staples AND colored chalk, thank you Mommy!!!"

On the other hand, she's gonna make a great office geek, I am SO proud!

© 2003 – 2013 ThisFULLHouse

January 2, 2013
My Goal for 2013: To Keep Blogging, Like It’s 2003
Entering my 10th year of blogging (seriously, it was hard enough for me to admit/accept my kids entering their double-digits) I often times compare maintaining a blog to that of nurturing a child: just imagine if parenting came with spell-check and a delete button, eh?

Some years are more difficult than others, then there are those times when the suckage runs real deep and all you would need to do is check back in a blogger's archives to realize that one of three things happen:
- Blogging increases.
- Posting decreases.
- Blog shuts down, completely.
Most especially, around this time of year, when folks begin to re-evaluate the time and effort it takes to nurture a blog, as well.

Aaaaaand, then there's the added consideration of maintaining an online presence (MOP, for short), while under the influence of suckage.

As 2012 comes to a close, 63 days post-Sandy and 10 days after the Mayans quit counting (can you blame them?) I find myself in the totally opposite situation: clinging to my archives, like a teething child looking for something to bite into (HARD!) and stomping my feet while declaring (in a totally whine-y voice):

"But, I don't waaaaaaaant to stop blogging AND you can't make me…DAMMIT!"

(more…)
December 31, 2012
Planes, Migraines and Insensitive Asshats

I don't often go away, heck it's a gosh-darned event just to be able to get out on a date night with my husband….but, when I do…I drink Dos Equis…PSYCH!!!…just kidding, I hate beer.

Aaaaanyway, what was I saying?

(Looks up at ceiling, blows bangs out of eyes)

Oh yeah, so this week I was traveling….as in, I physically got on an airplane and flew over several states….after double-dosing on Dramamine, of course….but, the last time I traveled….in an airplane, over several states…my youngest kid passes out while visiting Grandpa in the hospital…and, well, now maybe you know why I was seriously second-guessing my getting on an airplane….at all….let alone, tempting the powers of #FUBAR….right?

(Blank stare)

Long story, short….NOTHING happened….UNTIL I sat down to have breakfast with Busy Mom (don't be jealous) and my cell phone rang.

(more…)

December 6, 2012
Wordless Wednesday: You Don’t Scare Me, I Have Teens and a Fleece Blanket.

That awkward moment: when you go to pull your blanket up higher and accidentally punch yourself in the face.

Me and my snuggler in crime, during scary movie night.

Yeah, that hasn't ever happened to me either, but I hear your eyes don't stop watering for a solid 3 commercial breaks.

Check out the new Wordless Wednesday HQ!!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

November 28, 2012