This Full House Archive

Category: Raising Teens, Tweens & Killer Dust Bunnies

Summertime Blew(s)

It's the last week, before the first week, of the first day of school and dang if it doesn't feel like just yesterday when I was writing about the last week, before the last week, of the last day of school.

It's ALL fun and games until someone loses their weenie.

I had such GREAT expectations of trips to the beach, quiet little picnics in the park, impromptu backyard weenie roasts with friends and maybe even a holiday weekend away with Garth (not his real name) you know, just the two of us, like old times.

Then, you know, life happened.

Noah should be floating by, any minute.

Our plumbing broke, my youngest got sick (pneumonia, in the summertime?!?) then our street broke again (which broke our plumbing, AGAIN!) ummmmm, what else?

Oh, yeah! Then, our car broke, we had to rent a car so that I could drive my oldest to work and no I cannot make this stuff up.

But, wait, there's more!

She's a saucy little leemur.

My youngest passed out while visiting grandpa in the hospital while I was all, like, WHAT THE HELL?!? and feeling totally helpless to, you know, help from a thousand miles away.

UGH! Then my poor father-in-law was rushed back to the hospital while I was all, like, SERIOUSLY?!? because, you know, I wasn't home THAT time either.

So, while my mother was in the hospital getting her new arm (it's official, she is the bionic grandmother) we had my dad stay with us this month, you know, just in case…DAMMIT!

We've grown used to seeing heavy machinery as lawn ornaments.

You know what? To save time, just go ahead and read through the rest of July's blog posts and most of my stuff for August (when you have time, of course) and perhaps it will help you better understand why I currently hold the title of President of The FUBAR Club.

On a scale of one to ten, this summer blew (A BIG WET ONE!) to the point where the kids and I are actually looking forward for school to start and I never thought THAT would EVER happen.

In fact, my husband Garth (not his real name) and I celebrated our 22nd wedding anniversary on Saturday by taking all four of our kids back-to-school shopping…at the mall…at the same time and everything…and NO!…I have no idea what is wrong with us, either.

"Because, we're too young to buy wine!" they said.

Then, they gave us our anniversary present — beautifully hand written notes (love that!) with sentiments that both Garth (NHRN) and I really needed to hear (like, RIGHT NOW!) — however, this particular one really stands out:

It was written by our youngest. She is being very polite. Enough said.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

August 28, 2012
It’s Official, Mom’s a Dorkfish!
I took my kids to the beach for the first time the other day (yes, I know, it's the next to the last week in August) in a last ditch effort to have them be able to write something other than, "We hung out in our backyard," on their summer reports and I couldn't help but feel a little like a tourist (in my own backyard) saying stuff like:
- Ouch, that sand is HOT!
- How far is it to the water, anyways?
- Oh, damn, we didn't bring an umbrella.
- Is it low tide or high tide?
- Damn, that sun is HOT!
- What's up with all the red flags and why isn't anyone in the water?
- Oh, look at ALL the pretty seagulls.
"Nooooooooooooooo, don't feed them!"

I did, however, remember NOT to feed the seagulls — a cardinal rule, which once broken may or may not cause one to be severely beaten with a beach umbrella, here in Jersey anyways.

Hopey digs the beach, sort of.

On the one hand, it's SO MUCH easier taking older kids to the beach — grab a few towels, beach chairs, a couple of water bottles, a little spending money for french fries, maybe even a corn dog (or twenty) then sit back and remind them NOT to feed the seagulls.

On the other hand, I pine for the days when my kids were easily entertained with a shovel, a bucket or watching tourists get beat with beach umbrellas.

This is the quietest these two have been ALL summer!

Then again, I have been their main source of entertainment (especially, during the summertime) for the last 18 years and, well, I'm perfectly fine with just hanging out and NOT feel the need to actually have to do anything — other than remind them to, you know, turn over and go get mom a corn dog.

Aaaand, these two actually LET me take their picture!

Now that my oldest has graduated high school, is working and pretty much learning to support herself by contributing to the household for stuff like groceries and car insurance (reminder: we live in Jersey, the land of HOLY HELL, HOW MUCH?!?) not to mention, with my middle girl entering her junior year and having to start the college search all over again (see also: HHHM?!?) I realize that our days of spending quiet afternoons at the beach…together…are numbered.

"The waves look AWESOME mom, c'mon!!!"

Not to mention, my being able to jump, up and down, and expecting to successfully land, on the ground, on both feet, on purpose.

"Mom, behind you, LOOKOUT!!!"

I totally forgot about the OTHER cardinal rule: Never, EVER, turn your back on the ocean, which once broken may or may not cause one to be bitch-slapped into next week by an incoming wave, here in Jersey anyways.

SLAP!!!! Aaaaaaand, I could NOT for the life of me get up AND not because of the wicked undertow or anything, either.

SLAP!!!! I would reach up and grab onto my son's swim trunks.

SLAP!!! Aaaaaaand, he would slap my hand away (each and EVERY time) so I would, you know, fall back into the water.

SLAP!!! Then reach up again, grab onto my son's swim trunks, not thinking that the poor guy was trying to keep me from pulling his swim trunks off. So he claims.

"OMG, that was the FUNNIEST thing we have EVER seen!"

Note to self: next time, try to stand [up] further away from the lifeguard stand.

Moral of the Story: As I strive for continued excellence in being a source of entertainment for my teens and tween, as well as the entire Jersey coastline, dammit.

Stupid undertow. Dumbass corn dogs.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House
August 24, 2012
Hey You Guys, Get Off My Kids’ Lawn!
I remember walking home from school with my brother (uphill, both ways, bare feet, in the snow, etc…) and both of us running past the abattoir (exotic-like name for slaughter house) as if being chased by zombies.

Living around the corner from a slaught..I mean…abattoir was scary enough (and downright disgusting, in the middle of August, enough said) however, I can't begin to describe the old lady who lived next door without feeling as if I need to get up and run away, real fast, right now, because LOOKOUT!!! SHE'S COMING!!!

Thinking back on on her blood-stained apron and pack of hell hounds (some sort of beagle mix, from hell) I'm guessing she worked next door at the abattoir, at least I hope she did, because the alternative explanation of someone walking around wearing a bloody apron…well…LOOKOUT!!! SHE'S COMING!!!

We were upsetting her dogs, you see (more likely, walking to close to where the dead bodies were hidden) either way, I hated walking home from school and often times remind my kids about how lucky they are to have their own personal car service (that would be me!) not to mention, NOT having to live around the corner from an abattoir.

Well, good morning sunshine(s)!

@thisfullhouse UM, in Illinois we at least get a knock on the door first, to let us know…OMG #FUBAR

— Melisa Wells (@melisalw) August 21, 2012

According to Melisa, I should have been all…WHAT THE?!?…and, considering we've had plumbing problems since the beginning of summer and they've been ripping up our street consistently for the last two weeks, I was sort of…MEH, WHATEVER!…about it.

Until the kids started waking up:
- What are those guys doing on our lawn?
- OMG, can't they fix it right the first time?
- Hey, they're ripping up the flower bed!
- We worked TOO HARD for them to mess it up!
It took me a few minutes to calm them all down — seriously, ALL four of them were ready to go outside (in their pajamas and everything) to holler at the poor guys who, really, were just doing there jobs and, honestly, probably don't give a fig about peonies.

"Don't worry, I'm going to write a letter to the water company and the town."

My 13 year-old son continued to stare out the dining room window for about…oh, I don't know…however long it took me to drain the rest of my coffee mug.

"Nope, I'mma get my baseball bat!"

SNORT! Talk about role-reversal, seriously, and I couldn't help but imagine my kids wearing bloody aprons.

Doofus-Dawg, however, would make a terrible hell hound — although, he WOULD lick them to death.

They did eventually put my peonies back, however, the shock of being ripped out of the ground by a bulldozer, I swear I can STILL hear them screaming. The peonies. Not the workmen, who were unusually quiet, btw.

Their heavy machinery, not so much.

They DID, however, move their heavy machinery to make way for my kids' car service (me, remember?) and yes there ARE perfectly nice people here in Jersey…dammit!

They're baaaa-aaaack!

HEY YOU GUYS, YOU BETTER GET OFF OF MY KIDS' LAWN!!! BEFORE THEY WAKE UP!!!

Aaaaaand, I'm hiding the baseball bats, just in case (you're welcome).

Stupid plumbing. Dumbass heavy machinery.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House
August 22, 2012
Color Me 50 Shades of Surprised, In Katie’s Green Room!

A week ago (today) my oldest daughter and I traveled into NYC to tape a segment of Katie Couric's new daytime television show (never thought I would say that OUT LOUD…right?…me, either)!

We were both super-excited to be able to share in the experience of my being asked to blog during the taping (I'll be the one hiding behind a borrowed laptop) the subject matter, however, left us both feeling emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted.

I am not at liberty to share with you what the show was about (not yet, anyways, it's airing next month) I can tell you, however, that the entire audience was made up of mothers and daughters with a pack of tissues strategically hidden under everyone's seat: enough said.

Holly and me hanging out in the green room (it really IS green)!

The best part, besides the fact that Holly and I got to hang out in Katie's green room together and pretend we do this sort of stuff ALL the time, was the conversation leading up to and after the taping.

"Does it matter that I've never been on a date?"

My husband, Garth (not his real name) and I have this unspoken rule about allowing our kids to date at 16.

"Because, you know, the show is about teen dating and everything."

Shhhh, don't tell anybody…okay?!?…and now that our oldest girls are turning 19 and 17 in a couple of months (pausing to let that sink in…still pausing…looking for the friggin' rewind button…Holy Hannah Montana…where DOES the time go?!?) would you believe that neither of our daughters have had a boy ask them out…on a date…or whatever…EVER?!?

"But, you do intend on dating…eventually…right?!?"

I can't say that either of my girls are very happy about it (not as much as their father and I, anyways) or never wondered, "What the heck is wrong with me?" and "All my friends have had boyfriends!" out loud, once or a bazillion times, either.

"There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with you."

Long story, short (you're welcome!) teenagers don't date — they hook up, meet up, whatever, no strings attached — and, well, pardon the 70's reference, it's just NOT their scene.

"How old where you when you started dating Mom?"

Okie-dokie, here we go.

"18…no WAIT…19!"

Okay, so I don't remember EXACTLY. It was a while ago. I started working full-time a week out of high school and dated a string of LOOOOOOS-SUUUUUUHS (seriously, my parents will tell you) before a swearing off dating ALL TOGETHER after finally putting an end to a REAL BAD relationship.

"I remember you telling us about him."

Although I can't claim to know EVERYTHING there is to know about raising teens (besides the fact that the rules do tend to change, quite frequently, sometimes within seconds of each other, depending on which kid we're talking about, I mean) because they feel comfortable enough to talk to their dad and me (mostly me) about almost anything (or, at all even) has remained my constant proverbial golden ring of parenting.

"I'm SO GLAD you met AND then married dad!"

Me, too (a.k.a. understatement of the century) and yet I cannot, for the life of me, wrap my head around the fact that we will be celebrating our 22nd wedding anniversary this weekend!

Enough said.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

August 20, 2012
My Kids Think I’m a Stupid Momblogger, I Prefer the Term “Family Chronicler”!

Reading between the lines: HEY, YOU KLUTZ, BEWARE!

I love it when Garth (not his real name) is home for many reasons that I won't bother you with writing a long, drawn out list or anything (you're welcome!) okay, maybe just one.

Pulling up the rear (literally!)

This week, my kids LOVED being able to hang out with their dad (besides, at the supper table or a few minutes before bedtime) as I, once again, played the role of mom blogger.

I said "G'head and do something," and I got this!

Although, I prefer the term: family chronicler (yes, it's a word, spell-check says so) the kids and Garth (NHRN) are used to me falling a bit behind (as usual) but, this time, I felt a terrible desperation to capture AND savor the moment.

The view from the top of the red trail.

I have suffered from back problems for years (car accident in my 20's, birthing 4 babies in my 30's, dumbass 40's) and it's been getting progressively worse.

Holly at the top of the red trail, YAY!

An unexpected trip to the hospital for a kidney stone this past February also confirmed 2 herniated discs in my lower back (a.k.a. 2-for-1 diagnosis…YO!) and a subsequent visit with a neurologist who is still waiting for me to, you know, show up.

Hope at the top of the red trail, ALMOST!

What?!? The man wants to shove a HUGE needle in my back…ON PURPOSE!!!…more than once and then, eventually, introduce more pointy objects into my spine that will keep me flat on my back for weeks.

Heather owning the top of the trail, YOU GO GIRL!

Yeah, I know, I know, there are worse things. Unfortunately, I have friends and family who are suffering from all sorts of physical, mental and emotional pain…as we speak…DAMNIT! So, trust me when I tell you that I am NOT looking for any sympathy, JUST because I am afraid of sharp pointy things.

He's got a smart phone and he's not afraid to use it!

I am, however, scared to death at the thought of being expected to do nothing more than lay flat on my back for weeks. There, I said it and NOT just because Garth (not his real name) will testify to the fact that I am indeed a TERRIBLE patient.

He didn't want me to wait alone, at the top of the red trail.

Apparently, I am an equally AWFUL actress. There was no hiding the fact that the 2-hour car ride had taken its toll — not to mention, attending 2 blogging conferences, in 2 of my most favorite walking cities, in 1 month — as each of my kids took turns holding my hand, clearing a path or asking me if I needed to sit down.

When did they get to be THIS BIG?!?

Not for nothing, but it broke my heart. Kids today have enough to worry about — I have teenagers, trust me, I know — still, my mother is scheduled for surgery this coming Monday (a long overdue shoulder replacement) but, this time she's really, really scared and, well, I finally "get it".

Look, it's the masked blog-guh!

No, I'm not the smartest, bravest or most talented person in cyberspace (seriously, I'm okay with it) however, my kids seem to like hanging out with me inspite of the fact they believe I'm stupid for not going back to the neurologist sooner.

Aaaand that's just all sorts of cool, right?!? RIGHT?!?

[sound of crickets]

Riiiiiight. Stupid back, dumbass 40's.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

August 11, 2012
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
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
Happily Ever After, Everything!

She’s quoting her favorite Dr. Seuss: do you like my hat?

Although it seemed like a good idea at the time, the trouble with having so many kids born 2-3 years apart, I never really did sit down and do the math to figure out that perhaps one day we would be celebrating…a couple of major milestones…THAT SAME FREAKING DAY!

Watch out middle school, here she comes!

So, I thought to myself…SELF!…why not throw one GIANT graduation party the following weekend or something and just be done with it?

Self: Okay, ummm, but what about Hope’s birthday?

Me: Ummm, what about it?

Then it suddenly occurred to me (thank you, Self!) this year Hope’s birthday happens to fall on the SAME day as the graduation party, tentatively speaking of course.

Coming to America (these 3 escaped Hungary, as teenagers): my dad (far right) together again with my adopted uncles.

With Father’s Day that Sunday (I think, wait, yeah, I’m pretty sure) then the 4th of July (which, as a 1st generation born American, is really a BIG DEAL at our house) a few short weeks after, well, the rest of the family might as well just sleepover, right?

“Don’t make yourself crazy, Mom!”

I have a REAL bad habit of thinking out loud.

“Just make it ONE BIG HAPPY EVERYTHING PARTY!”

BRILLIANT! Further proof that my kids are SO MUCH smarter than I am. Really. Then, it rained almost ALL week and I started freaking out (because, I am freaky like that) about having to be stuck indoors with 20+ people.

We have 2 seasons here in Jersey: hot and cold.

So, we broke down and ordered a tent just in case. Still. People might want to use the bathroom, or something. So, I tried to pace myself and spent 3 days cleaning and/or rearranging the house.

Her future looks bright, let’s eat cake!

Then, it stopped raining and, well, at least the house is Thanksgiving clean and thank goodness I won’t have to do THAT again…not until…well…next Thanksgiving.

Happy 11th Birthday, Hopey!

Which reminds me (thank you, Self!) I owe this kid a “Happy Birthday” post, but decided to save it for another time (you’re welcome!) because, well, I’m still trying to recover from…you know…EVERYTHING!

Oh, and looky what else I made (DID SO!) courtesy of many, many lost hours spent on Pinterest.

Enough said. In the meantime, if anybody needs me, I’ll be upstairs, trying to convince my kids to help me bring ALL the clean laundry back down from off of my bed.

Our own private little after party.

Once they wake up, of course! Considering today just so happens to be the first day of their summer break…as well…YO!

The end.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

June 18, 2012