This Full House Archive

Category: Raising Teens, Tweens & Killer Dust Bunnies

  • Aaaaand, Now For More “Break Curfew and I’ll Show This Video to Your Girl/Boyfriend!” Blog Fodder

    My son's voice is changing.  A lot.  It's okay, he knows he sounds funny.  So, I shot this quick video while hunting for apple cider donuts during spring break, last week.

    Aaaaand, now I'm sorta mad at myself for not thinking of doing something like this back when I first started blogging…9 years ago…when he was 4 years-old (I think) because it would have made for some really awesome "Break curfew and I'll show this video to your girlfriend!" blog fodder.

    So, I video-taped my youngest for good measure.  You know, seeing as the kid is 10…going on 29…and most likely eloping, getting married jumping out of an airplane, or something involving the use of some sort of underwater breathing apparatus, anyway.

    Then, she can send me THAT video and we'll go ahead and just call it even. 

    [sound of crickets, chirping]

    Want a donut?  I skinned it and everything!

    © 2003 – 2012 This Full House

  • Don’t Mess With Mother Nature, She Probably Has Teens

    The kids have been on spring break since Friday and, since my oldest is scheduled to work this week/weekend and needs the car to, you know, get there (it's about a 30 minute ride down the Parkway, in Jersey speak) we're pretty much rooted close to home.

    Boy and His Dog

    By yesterday afternoon 2 out of 4 of them weren't speaking to each other (because, girls are pretty much women in training, just so you know) the boy and I needed some fresh air.  Also, the roast had about another hour left.  So, we took Doofus-dawg for a quick walk before dinner.

    Broken Sky
    It also gave us (meaning, the boy and me) a chance to talk, reconnect and perhaps address a few issues (because, teenagers, they hazem) that otherwise may have gotten lost or mixed in with the rest of the miss-matched socks in the house…YO!

    Broken Basketball NetWe've weathered some pretty bad storms, lately (literally and figuratively speaking) and Mother Nature hasn't been very kind to our neighborhood, either.

    Broken Path
    Hurricane Irene reduced one of their favorite paths, once a bridge into a fairy world filled with magical possibilities, as a place to be feared, neglected and left totally abandoned.

    Broken Tree
    No matter how many times we changed our direction, we were reminded of just how fragile our world has become and my son was trying really hard to understand why I would want to take pictures of such random things.

    Broken Sidewalk

    I tried to explain with this broken sidewalk.  Yesterday it served as a medium for space travel.  Who knows what story it will tell, tomorrow?

    Splash of Color

    I don't know if it stuck.  The boy is only 13.  Also, he asked that I stop taking pictures so that we could get home and check to see if dinner was ready and, well, 13 year-old boys really do get hungry, A LOT.

    "Hey, but thanks for the walk mom."

    Aaaaand, next time, I'm thinking about dying my hair purple.

    "My head feels a whole lot better."

    Mine too, enough said.

    © 2003 – 2012 This Full House

  • The Year Without An Easter Bunny

    Growing up, our family consisted of me, my twin brother, my parents, my maternal grandmother and my Aunt Theresa (the rest of our extended family lived overseas) so, yes, celebrating holidays, like Easter was a very big deal.

    We would wait for my father to come home from working at the garden center (Easter flowers were  pretty big in the stone ages too, believe it or not) only then would we carve into the Easter ham or (in my brother's case) dive into some Hungarian smoked sausage and crack open a couple of Easter eggs dyed by boiling them in onion skins (red, white, yellow, etc…) on Good Friday.

    If we weren't full from our Easter baskets, that is:  their remains at the foot of our bunk bed still visible from the kitchen table.

    My parents always joked about how lucky we were (okay, half-jokingly) because, the Easter Bunny never could quite make it as far as Eastern Europe.

    Easter Frenzy 2008

    Easter 2008: Holy Hannah Montana, LOOK! It's an Easter basket built for four!

    Their grand kids, however, are very familiar with the Easter Bunny and it was fun to watch their faces light up and my son's eyeballs cross…each and every year. 

    Then, all of a sudden, it started to get…you know…less fun.  By 2008, I had a few choice nicknames for the furry little leporidae and was posting stuff on my blog like:

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  • Did We Not Learn Anything With Footloose?

    My son came home from school the other day, threw his backpack into the dining room, I asked him how his day went (fine) if he had any homework (no) and if he was sure he did not have any homework (uh, wait a minute, I dunno, maybe) he's 13, enough said.

    "Oh, and hugging is now against the rules in the middle school."

    Seriously, I thought he was kidding.

    "No, seriously mom, they made an announcement and everything."

    Aaaand, two questions immediately came to mind:

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  • Good Prom Dress Hunting

    DSCN9642

    I promised my oldest that we would go prom dress hunting this weekend (SOB!) and just so there was no question on whether or not she would keep me to that promise, see pic above.

    So, when my husband Garth (not his real name) and I got back from taking Doofus-Dawg to the dog park yesterday afternoon (whole other blog post, will save it for another time, you're welcome!) the girls and I headed out to the mall.

    Actually, it was Holly's idea to invite her sisters along (NOT MINE!) and, well, if you have EVER had the pleasure of shopping with teenagers (bonus points if they happened to be girls) then, you know.

    Even my youngest was all, like, "You mean you WANT me to go prom dress shopping with you, on purpose?!?"

    At 10 years-old she knows:  going to senior prom is a REALLY BIG DEAL.  She's a girl.  They figure this sort of stuff out REAL FAST.  Trust me.  I've got 3 of them (girls, I mean) and they talk, you know?

    Still, shopping in the junior's department can be a little scary.  Plus, I've heard stories.

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  • Flirtexting: While Under the Influence of Children

    My husband, Garth (not his real name) had a local Chamber of Commerce thingy to attend last night and, considering it was held at one of our favorite pubs, I'm thinking perhaps it's high time I joined the Chamber of Commerce.

    Clearly, those Chamber of Commerce folks know how to, you know, thingy.

    Aaaaanyway, Garth (NHRN) and I have been feeling a little estranged, lately (okay, for the last 18 years) but not on purpose, or anything.

    We have 4 kids.  3 of whom are teens.  Enough said.

    Aaaaanyhow, I thought it would be fun to send him a few flirtatious texts to, you know, shake his thingy up a bit.

    So, I sent him this:

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  • All Grown Up, Still Needs Huh Muh-Thuh!

    Remember when I was all, like "WAH!" I am officially a mother of an 18 year-old (a.k.a. a fully-grown adult) and you all were, like:

    "Really?" 

    "Aaaaand, you've only had 18 years to prepare?"

     "Get over it, already!"

    Or, maybe it was just the voices in my head (okay, you guys, shuddup for a second!)

    Then again, raising 4 kids (not to mention, killer dust bunnies) I have grown accustomed to hearing and/or responding to at least 4 different conversations, at the same time (it's a gift) I am THAT good of a lis-sen-nuh.

    Aaaaanyway, said 18-year old went out and got herself a job that pays in REAL money and everything (more than I got paid managing the fitness center, even!) with the promise of keeping the same flexible hours, once she starts college in September (don't EVEN get me started!)

    Although I would NEVER admit it (out loud, anyway) now that 1 out of 4 of our kids are all grown up (mostly) I can't help but feel like, you know, "WAAAAAAAAAH!"

    "Why don't you come on in, Mrs. Thompson."

    [blink-blink-blink]

    "She's a little nervous."

    I was SO wrapped up in my thoughts (seriously, you guys, it's scary in here!) that it took me a few seconds to remember where I was and realize that, you know, a real person was speaking.

    "Aaaand, she's asking for you."

    You see, I took my oldest for her employment physical and she is STILL a little squeamish about needles (yes, she gets it from me) but, I stayed in the lobby because, well, you know, she's 18 and I was closer to the bathroom, anyway.

    "Why don't you go ahead and hold her other hand, Mrs. Thompson."

    As I stood there pretending to, you know, watch (mostly!) I quietly thought to myself, "She MUST be a Muh-thuh, too!"

    "You just go ahead and squeeze, sweetie."

    [eyes go wide]

    "DAYUM!"

    Note to Self:  you are right handed.  Next time, give her your OTHER hand.

    © 2003 – 2012 This Full House

  • Now Playing: The Brilliantly Brilliant Anti-Dog Whisperer

    MypuppyPhoto of Doofus-Dawg (not his real name) courtesy of HeatherrMarie (a.k.a. the middle girl.)

    Each of my kids has a special talent.  WAIT!!!  Where you going?!?  Please, COME BACK!!!

    I don't mean like in a "Look how brilliantly shine-y they are!" sort of way.  Although, considering I gave birth to each and every one of them and my being SUCH A BIG DORK, that in and of itself is an amazing thing, really. 

    Aaaaanyway, my point is — because, I really do have one and will try to get to it as quickly as dorkishly possible — we're technically raising our kids pretty much the same way (since kid one, really) and still they end up, growing up, with very different personalities.

    Which simply means my husband Garth (not his real name) and I STILL don't know what the heck we're doing half the time and I swear it comes down to a matter of paybacks from when we were kids.

    iDigress.

    Aaaaanyhow, so yeah, I get all like, "Holy Hannah Montana look-y what my kid can do!" whenever one of them does something I feel is brilliantly brilliant and, considering the last 4 and 1/16th paragraphs, can you really blame me?

    For example:  my youngest plays the clarinet AND is the only one in our family to even play a musical instrument. 

    Her name has been submitted for consideration into the Central Jersey Music Educators Elementary Honors Band.

    [takes deep breath]

    Aaaaand, well, forgive me when I say THAT is just all sorts of awesome.

    Bonus points: for figuring out that Doofus-Dawg (NHRN) does NOT like the clarinet.

    "Hey, you know how you hate it when he follows you around the house?"

    In the worst possible way, really, considering I am also the clumsiest mom on the planet.

    "I can always practice while you're making dinner!"

    [eyes go wide]

    See, what I mean?!?  BRILLIANT!!!

    © 2003 – 2012 This Full House

  • Parenting Tip #2,189,562: Talking to Your Kids About Sex, Drive and Let Them Do ALL the Talking FIRST!

    I was in the 5th grade when we were herded into gym class to watch someone’s mother (or, maybe she was an older sister, I forget) as she wrestled with a “sanitary belt” (I know, I’m old, shuddup!) and we wondered what in the heck the boys were doing, right at that moment.

    I first French-kissed a boy in the 6th grade, in between a chain-linked fence that separated the baseball field from the basketball courts and spent the next few weeks in absolute terror until one of my friends finally convinced me that…uh, no and DER!…you can NOT get pregnant from kissing.

    Aaaand, thus ends the extent of my education into womanhood.

    Then, I had children and I swore up, down and sideways that MY kids will not be afraid to ask me ANYTHING about, well, EVERYTHING!

    “Mom, what’s an erection.”

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  • When I Was Young, We Could Only Buy Gas on Even-Numbered Days

    Aaaaand, other lunchtime conversations that make me sound old, and hungry:

     

    Not for nothing, but imagine if I had typed this ALL out (you're welcome!)

    © 2003 – 2012 This Full House