This Full House Archive

Category: Raising Teens, Tweens & Killer Dust Bunnies

Barbie the Verklempt Killer

Having been married for nearly 22 years (wait, that makes me sound way too old) or the entire life span of an average college graduate (ugh, never mind) I feel it safe to say that one of the reasons our relationship works is that my husband Garth (not his real name) and I are total opposites.

One of us is emotional and the other more of an intellectual. Guess which one? Go ahead, I'll wait.

If you guessed me as the emotional one, CONGRATULATIONS!!!

[hugs]

You are ABSOLUTELY right in thinking I am less apt to intellectualize feelings and most likely bringing attention to myself (right now, even) showing off my non-verbal communications skillz…in public.

In other words, I'm probably hugging someone…who does NOT like, let alone even wish to be…you know…hugged…right now.

[hugs]

Sorry. I just canNOT help myself. It's in my genes. In fact, I'm raising a houseful of emotional empaths, we're ALL verklempt up in here.

"You want to come into the school's office with me?"

My oldest girl is graduating high school and my youngest is graduating elementary school this week.

[hand to heart]

Aaaaand, I'm trying really, really hard not to be all…you know…verklempt.

"Maybe you'll see some of your old teachers."

My two oldest girls were home from school (I forget why, although it doesn't really matter, considering these days it's a chore for me to remember their names, moving on) and we (okay, mostly me) thought it would be fun to see if they…you know…remember how much fun…school used to be.

"Look, there's your music teacher, Mrs. B!"

We've gone through many, many teachers in the 13 years my kids have attended this school (at least 13, please don't ask me to name them all) however, Mrs. B is definitely a favorite.

"Are you guys still in high school?"

My middle girl pointed to her oldest sister.

"I am, but she's graduating!"

[eyes go wide]

"Now I feel REALLY old!"

I just stood there, nodding my head, not so much because I couldn't think of anything to say (I know, act surprised anyway, okay?) however, teenagers embarrass rather easily (see previous parenthesis) and, well, they're probably already annoyed with me (right now, even) so, I turned my attention to the office staff.

"I wanted to thank you ladies for all of your…"

[cough]

"…for all of your…

[choke]

"…support over the years."

[clears throat]

"Seeing as it's our last year at this school and everything."

[fans face with hands]

"Thank you…[cough]…all…[choke]…for all that…[clears throat]…you do."

This time, it was Mrs. B's turn to put her hand to her heart.

"Your getting ME all verklempt!"

And so it goes. I do that to intellectuals.

"Want to watch a movie together, like we used to when you were little?"

My oldest was exempt from all but one of her finals this week (yes, I know, she does NOT get it from me) so, she offered to help sit with my youngest (she's home sick from school, it's how we roll) and then came running back into the kitchen.

[places hand on heart]

"She…[cough]…picked…[choke]…a Barbie…[clears throat]…movie!!!"

Funny, I always thought her more of an intellectual, she MUST get that part from her father.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

June 11, 2012
Sometimes Bonding With the Dentist, Alongside Your Sister, Can Be a Happy Experience

March 2010 (a.k.a. the year they stopped smiling)

Not that I have anything against dentists…personally. I feel it takes a special sort of something to actually choose a profession that involves looking into and/or tooling around in other people's mouths…on purpose.

In fact, I have personally supported many dental professionals, my ownself — I've had several root canals, as well as gum graphing and reconstructive surgery in my mid-twenties, due to a long lost and previously unforeseen baby tooth exploding in my sinus cavity (you're welcome!) — I've helped hone their dentistry skills AND achieve their long-term financial goals.

In other words dentists, or pretty much anyone involved in any aspect of oral healthcare, absolutely LOVED me!

Then, I had children and, well, nowadays, dentists are also very knowledgeable in creating really cool balloon animals and even allow younger kids to play with Mr. Thirsty (a.k.a. the spit sucker) or have several video game systems set up…in their waiting rooms…you know…for siblings to play with…on purpose.

In other words, my kids LOVED going to the dentist.

Until, they got older and, well, there are many different levels of "It's like a pinch, really" when kids hit double-digits.

Then, they reach teenhood and, well, I swear pulling teeth has GOT to be easier than getting a teenager to smile.

Trust me, having spent a little more than a third of my life waiting in a dentist's and/or doctor's office, I know — especially, with my oldest girls.

Holly and Heather have endured two years of having their teeth pulled, prodded and realigned to look like "drunken railroad tracks" (their words, not mine) and I had my doubts the Orthondontist would EVER be able to…you know…pull it/them off.

Two years ago, the Orthodontist promised to make my girls smile and boy did she EVER deliver.

BONUS POINTS: for being able to do so…3 days before Holly's senior prom…the Orthodontist happens to be a mother, of teens, as well.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

June 6, 2012
I’m Not Needy, I’m Just Giving Others the Chance to Be Helpful!

She wears bright colors to help her mother find her on the field.

I'm not very good at asking for help. What, you too?!? I know, me too!!! Is there anything I can do to help?!? Anyone I should call?!? I know people.

Aaaaaanyway, my SIL was over the other day. I'm not sure which one, exactly. I mean, I knew which SIL (she was in my wedding and everything) exactly which day it was, not so much.

They all sort of blend into a muted shade of "What the hell day is it, anyway?"

Aaaaaand, we just came off a long weekend, which means I swore Tuesday…was really Monday…at least half a dozen times before my second cup of coffee, even.

Ummmmmm, what was I saying?

[glances at wall calendar]

OH YEAH!!! Sooooo, my SIL asks me about my youngest daughter's next softball game and I'm all, like, she plays softball?!?

Heh, just kidding. I like messing with people. Which makes me calculatingly indecisive…albeit, equally annoying…and I really didn't know when her next softball game was…lack of surprise, notwithstanding.

"It's on Wednesday, Aunt Pat."

Thankfully, as the youngest of four, Hope is used to my NOT knowing this sort of stuff (off the top of my head, anyways) which is why I make sure to leave several pencils (with erasers intact) by our wall calendar and at least all of us can pretty much…you know…read Hope's writing, without much trouble.

"Isn't my dentist appointment on Wednesday?"

Seems my son has been keeping tabs on his schedule, as well, the little traitor.

"Sooooo, we'll be a little late to the game."

I can't be the ONLY one realizing that their car is running on empty (AGAIN!) a little too late, right?!? RIGHT?!?

Riiiiiiiight.

"I can take Hope to her game."

So, for the first time in, like, never, I took my SIL up on her offer to help with a solid, "Maybe, I'll let you know, okay?" and, well, it's nice to know someone has my back.

I mean, other than my husband Garth (poor guy, I knew him well or at least four times anyway) nah'mean.

"Do you need me to pick up Hope for softball, today?"

My SIL just texted me a few minutes ago and, well, seeing as these last weeks of school are about to get a little crazier (more than usual, I mean) I really do appreciate her continued confidence in my knowing whether or not Hope has a softball game…let alone, remembering what the hell day it is…I truly do treasure my SIL.

"Oh, no, thanks, that was yesterday."

Suprisingly, I made it home from the dentist's office AND was able to get Hope to the game in time to notice that there were two different t-shirt colors on the playing field and one of them was…you know…NOT hers.

THERE WAS NO GAME YESTERDAY…IT'S REALLY TODAY…YO!!!

"Besides, Garth (not his real name) already promised to take her tonight."

Because, I'm helpful like that.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

Freshly-brewed elsewhere: Partnering with International Delight in sharing a chance to win $1,000 for a kitchen makeover…DUDE!!!!…I would SO ENTER if I could 😉

May 31, 2012
Last Week, Before the Last Week, Of the Last Week of School

Another typical Memorial Day weekend at our house, with more birthday cake!

We opened our pool yesterday and by we I mean Garth (not his real name) did almost ALL the heavy lifting, bending, or basically anything requiring any sort of physical effort, the ability to use BOTH hands (at the same time) or a superior range of motion, while I ran (by ran I mean limp, with style) and got him stuff he asked for, from the shed, or the garage (either of which, turns out, would prove to be a scavenger hunt) in an effort to make me feel…you know…useful.

It's the last week, before the last week, of the last week of school and, well, my kids have already checked out…mentally…as of last week…me, too.

This year, however, is a little different.

My oldest is…[cough]…excuse me, but my first born baby girl…[clears throat]…I cannot wrap my head around the fact that…[swallows HUGE lump in throat]…UGH!

You see? I can't even admit I have a daughter old enough to graduate high school…[clears throat]…without manufacturing mucous the size of a grapefruit (you're welcome!) so, it stands to reason, I should not be allowed to speak, let alone trusted with doing something…you know…useful.

Like, actually start planning stuff for Holly's high school graduation party and Hope's 11th birthday which happen to fall on the same day (GAH!) instead, I beat my head against the wall and try to figure out how I am going to pull it ALL off?

"Don't make yourself crazy, Mom!"

I know, too late, still, my youngest is also graduating 5th grade this year…[cue mucous]…and, well, after 13 years of complaining about the parking and stuff, now what am I gonna do?!?

"Just make it ONE BIG HAPPY EVERYTHING PARTY!"

[blink-blink-blink]

BRILLIANT!!! I mean, it's not like we haven't done it before (see: The Seven Years of Mommyblogging and Happy Everything) and gosh but I love my kids!!!

"Why are you wearing your brother's boxers?"

So, I'm going over my "Ignore this stuff any longer and you will live to regret it, if you haven't already, trust me on this one!" list when my youngest stumbled into the kitchen this morning and, well, I really should know better to ask, but am not in my right mind…remember?

"Beeeeeecause, they don't fit him anymore?!?"

Guess what just made the top of the list? Go ahead, I'll wait!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

May 29, 2012
Parenting Tip #8,913,256: Bogus Text Scammers Suck – We should throw old cell phones at them!

Loved the effect rain is leaving on windshield, so I posted it to Instagr.am (like a good blogger!)

I was waiting in the pick up lane for my youngest, when my cell phone doink-doink-ed (it's my tone, don't judge!) while I was in the middle of trying to upload a picture to Instagr.am.

What?!? It was raining and, well, I get REAL bored waiting sometimes.

It was a text message from my 16yo and I figured she wanted to either take a ride with me to drop off my oldest girl at work (who hates it when she has to drive in the rain, me too!) or she was texting to make sure I was driving my oldest to work, so that she can go with me to…you know…pick her up, as well.

Because I am THAT fun to be with, you betcha.

Heather: Mommy i got this text…is it legit??? Your entry last month has WON! Goto [link withheld for blog posting purposes, bastards!] and enter your Winning Code: [code withheld for blog posting purposes, bastards!] to claim your Free $1,000 Bestbuy Giftcard!

Me: No!!!

Me: Especially, since we did not buy anything at Best Buy…bastards! [yes, I really texted that]

Heather: I didn't click it, but are you sure…..

Heather: But, what if I entered something on their site and forgot?

Aaaaaand, therein lies the rub.

Raising 3 teens and with our youngest kid in double-digits, we are avid consumers and frequently apply for savings cards: CVS, Game Stop, Modells, Petsmart, Pet Valu, Shop Rite, Sports Authority, Stop and Shop…you name it and I probably have a savings card for it.

Because we are equal-opportunity, like that.

We also register online with some of our favorite stores (I'm looking at you, Best Buy and Pier 1) for the chance to win free stuff.

Because parents of teens spend a butt-load of money, already.

Me: Sounds like a scam. Texting codes allows them to hack into your stuff. You can always call Best Buy.

Heather: Okay, because that's a loooooot of money.

Me: I know, which is why you should call them to verify.

Aaaaaand, she did.

Heather: I will….ugh, if it's a scam that really sucks.

Me: Agreed

The customer service representative over at Best Buy confirmed the scam: they get tons of calls ALL THE TIME about it.

Aaaaaand, Heather's right, THAT TOTALLY SUCKS!

Heather: Wahwahwaaaaaah. If it's real, I'll cry tears of joy.

Me: Me too, for you!

Because sending folks bogus texts or trick advertisements…promising our teens and tweens shiny new things, for free…is just all sorts of wrong…DAMMIT!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

May 21, 2012
At Our House, It’s Called a Blood Drive-By

As a mother of 3 teens, 1 kid in double-digits and Supreme Goddess of All Things Domestic (in my house, anyways) I feel it safe say that there is NOTHING worse than battling a foreign object, invading your child's body, that you canNOT see.

3yo Heather: Hey…wook…isn't that where you gave bwud, How-wee?

Unless, you have to take said child to have their blood drawn and, well, game over dude!

5yo Holly/How-wee: I didn't give it…Heatherrrrr…THEY TOOK IT!

Even years later, my two oldest daughters would play out this same conversation, every time we'd drive by the building, where they each got their "bwud tooken" and, well, How-wee…I mean…Holly will tell you…YES!..it was THAT traumatic.

[pulls up sleeve]

Me: Dude…they won't take your blood here.

I took my son to the doctor, yesterday. Long story, short (you're welcome) he's got a nasty case of some sort of creeping crud she couldn't quite identify and, well, now it was his turn to have his "bwud tooken".

Me: We have to go…you know…[whispers]…to that OTHER place.

[eyes go wide]

This is the kid that doesn't get sick. He's only heard stories, from his oldest sisters, whenever we would drive by the place where they had their blood…you know…tooken.

Receptionist: Name?

Me: Glen [whispering] he's never had his blood…tooken…I mean…taken.

The receptionist just nodded her head and, thankfully, the place was empty. Except for this one kid, going ALL ape sh*t, and his sh*thead father:

Kid, going ALL ape sh*t: BWAAAAAAAAH!!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!! NOOOOOOOO!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!

His sh*thead father: SHUDDUP!!!! SHUDDUP!!! SHUDDUP!!!

So, my son and I just sat down and…you know…covered our ears.

Medical Asst.: Glen?

It was funny to watch the receptionist's face, as he stood up and she handed my son a cup. I swear, you could actually hear her neck muscles pop.

Medical Asst.: You can leave it on the bathroom sink and then go right into Room #1.

[eyes go wide]

Medical Asst.: Oh relax, your friends probably hit you harder than this is gonna hurt!"

Thank goodness for kind-hearted medical assistants, right?

Glen: Buuuuuut, no one said ANYTHING about peeing in a cup!

[blink-blink-blink]

Me: Well, I didn't think it would be SUCH a big deal.

[voice cracking]

Glen: Buuuuuut, it's a really small cup!

Judging by the way the she was laughing…I guessed correctly…the medical assistant was a mother AND happened to have a teen boy at home…too.

Stupid blood tests, dumbass creeping crud.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

FRESHLY-BREWED ELSEWHERE: I'm over at PlaydatePlace.com this week, confessing not teaching my kids how to ride a bike. Also, sharing a recipe for Angel Food Cake that does NOT suck!

May 15, 2012
If It Wasn’t For the Graffiti and Hairy Legs, I Would Be Clueless
My youngest daughter is going to the 5th grade dance with someone and I know this for a fact because the front door told me so.

Hope has talked (and graffiti'd) about little else since, well, the 4th grade, really, other than maybe her oldest sister's senior prom (ACK!) her 11th birthday (UGH!) oh, and her 5th grade graduation (GAH!) all of which are happening in the same week, next month.

Aaaaand, I have absolutely NO CLUE how we will get through ALL these snot-worthy milestones (and by we, I mean mostly me!) because, the fact that I have a kid old enough to be graduating high school? Blows…my…mind!

What's left of it, anyway.

"What's this about you going to the dance with someone?"

My husband came home from work, must have read the front door and, well, you know, his "Hi, I'm [enter daughter's name, here] dad, want to see my shot gun collection?" was showing.

"Oh, you know, just some kid in my class."

Because, really, at this age? Kids get asked out at recess and break up by lunch time.

"His name is So-and-So."

[eyes go wide]

"Really, but I thought you were going with What's His Name?"

I mean, his name wasn't written on the front door, or anything, but that IS what she told me last week.

"I was, but not anymore."

Long story, short (you're welcome):
- What's His Name asked another girl, first.
- She said no.
- So, What's His Name asked Hope.
- She said yes.
- Then, the other girl changed her mind.
So, the little jerk…I mean…What's His Name un-asked Hope to the dance.

"Oh, but he asked her first and I'm okay with it."

Because, you know, she's 10 going on 29, tough as gel nails and, well, I want to be Hope when I grow up.

"That's REAL grown-up of you, sweetie!"

[one beat, two beats]

"So, can I get fake nails for the dance?"

She is quick, this one.

"Nope."

However, it's NOT my first time driving the mean bus and, well, she has until her senior prom to get over it…you know…when I'll probably be all wigged out (AGAIN!) and blowing snot (DITTO!) to even care that she's wearing spiked-stilettos…on her ears…even.

"Fiiiiiiiine, but I am NOT going to shave my legs!"

Good. Me, either.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House
May 11, 2012
The House Next Door: The Appraisal
…continued from The House Next Door: Under Contract

"Sooooo, are you guys going to allow the buyer make an offer on your house?"

1993: The real estate lawyer, who seemed very well-versed in the matter, insisted that investing in a "starter home" was the way to go and — considering I was pregnant with our first child, at the time — our timing could NOT have been better.

"As long as you move before the kid starts kindergarten!"

2012: 19 years, 4 kids, 3 cats, 3 refinances and 1 doofus-dawg later (give or take a couple of goldfish) my husband and I have FINALLY accepted the fact that…you know…we are in it…up to our collective chin hairs…and, frankly, with a lot of people losing their jobs AND homes (stupid economy) we are, pretty much, here to stay.

Unless, Ty Pennington showed up (shows ending, enough said) or we hit the lottery (dreaming along with 6 billion other people, dammit) or if someone bought the house next door (it's under contract) and made an offer on our property.

Aaaaand, now that the house next door is under contract…Miss Grace's 100+ year-old house will most likely be razed, to make room for a WAY BIGGER and much newer house, apartments or even a couple of townhouses…like they did down the street from us…you know…now what?

On the one hand, our house? It's just a house:
- in need of a new roof and paint job
- the front porch and back stairs are drooping a bit (okay, a lot)
- the windows need to be replaced
- not to mention 1/3 of the living room ceiling (stupid Hurricane Irene)
- and that's only about half of the stuff we meant to…you know…get to…eventually
On the other hand, the property is valued much higher:
- a builder could buy both our tracks of land
- raze both our houses and put up another cul-de-sac
- connecting to the ones behind our combined properties
- and…BAM!…you got a whole new neighborhood.
Then again, I've grown accustomed to the creaks, groans and killer dust bunnies (named a few of them, in fact) not to mention, the peace and quiet of our BIG backyard.

Besides, how do you put a value on ALL the time invested in:
- trading secrets under the shade of an old oak tree
- jumping your cares and troubles away with an epic cannon ball
- gathering onion grass, dandelions and Queen Anne's lace, used to prepare Sunday dinner for the fairies who live under the stump of a fallen birch
- The blood, sweat and tears spent cultivating a piece of land, growing food for our table and flowers on the windowsills
- perfuming the air with scents of lavender, basil, anise, with hints of lemon balm, sweet William and about half a dozen butterfly bushes
- providing the perfect venue for outdoor celebrations with family and friends
It's not just a house. It's our home. Now that there is a tiny (and I mean, the tiny-est of tiny-ies) chance we may FINALLY be able to move up (i.e. the 3 girls will not have to share a bedroom and the boy gets a real bedroom door) I'm not sure what we would do.

"I heard Daddy tell Grandpa we're moving!"

[eyes go wide]

"Is that true?!?"

….to be continued.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House
April 30, 2012
The House Next Door: Under Contract

If houses could talk, ours would be complaining about that weird neighbor, too 😉

My son had one of his buddies over for a playdate…ummmm, I mean…the guys were just sort of hanging out…you know…not doing nothing, together (got to be REAL careful how you blog about a 13-year-old, just sayin') which, of course, allowed me a chance to catch up with one of my momfriends.

"Did the lady next door pass?"

[eyes go wide]

"Which lady?"

Because, you know, there happens to be a house, with a lady living next door, on either side of us, and, well, you have to be REAL specific when asking me questions.

"Your 103-year-old neighbor."

I've blogged about Miss Grace many, many times over the past 9 years. In fact, I got my first ever publishing gig outside this blog by submitting one of my favorite stories about her.

The last time I wrote about the house next door, however, I thought she was 104.

"I don't think so, why?"

Then again, age doesn't really matter (DAMMIT!) especially, once you've lived over a century and, well, good thing I have momfriends who know more about my neighbors…than I do.

"Because, there's a for sale sign outside her house."

Aaaaaand, momfriends can be a REAL asset…especially, when they are much more observant than…you know…I am.

"I just thought they were helping her clean up the yard, or something."

Long story short (you're welcome) Miss Grace is just fine (thank goodness!) but, she hasn't been able to physically keep up with the house (not for the lack of trying, either) so, her family was finally able to convince Miss Grace that she just should not be living…alone…anymore.

"Hey, did you know that the house next door is under contract?"

Another momfriend called me the other day and, well, this is where most folks would be surprised to learn just how much I really do rely on my momfriends…you know…for stuff like this.

Not to mention, I have more than one momfriend.

"Yeah, I know."

The house has been on the market for only, like, a month. Considering it is even older than Miss Grace (her father built it) and the property is HUGE (at least a double-lot, like ours) I'm guessing the house next door is being bid on by a contractor, or something.

"Sooooo, are you guys going to allow the buyer make an offer on your house?"

….to be continued.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 27, 2012
So Emotional, I Blame Glee (and @BurghBaby!)

Just another Gleek rocking out to Whitney!

Yes, yes, I know. Then again, I am a total dork from waaaaaay back. Who knew being dorky/geeky/nerdy/whatever-y would be so cool and would you believe that I have NEVER blogged about Glee?

Truth be told, I sometimes forget it's on.

Me: Why aren't you in the shower?
10 year-old: Glee is on!

Or our resident Gleek forgets to…you know…tell me…for fear of being subjected to my singing along and no, I do NOT blame her.

Last night's episode, however, was a tribute to Whitney Houston and, well, the two of us? We have a history. In fact, we spent many nights on the dance floor together, singing our hearts out and insisting that…you know…it would be really, really, really nice to dance with somebody…DAMMIT!

"Is the show going to end, you know, now that the kids are graduating?"

My 13 year-old son? Not a big fan.

[eyes go wide]

Aaaaaaand…only then did it really hit me…like a ton of 45's (look it up, youngster!) Holy Hannah Montana, I've got a kid graduating, high school, this year!

Aaaaaaand…oh, how I cried…and cried…OH!…and single-dad Burt's speech to his son, Kurt? Admitting that he's not ready to say goodbye and how much he'll miss his only son? I'M BAWWWWWWWWWWLING!!!!

Which begs the question: how in the heck am I going to get it through my own kid's graduation ceremony, without BAWWWWWWWWWWLING, IRL?!?

Ditto!!! Because, in my head I'm still, like, 19 (never mind, just how long ago WAS that, anyways, whip-puh-snap-puh!) except, now I'm rocking out with shorter hair, looser clothing and better fitting shoes…DAMMIT!

"Oh, I forgot tell you mom, a notice came home about my 5th grade graduation."

[one beat, two beats]

I'M BAWWWWWWWWWWLING…AGAIN!!!!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 25, 2012