This Full House Archive

Category: Raising Teens, Tweens & Killer Dust Bunnies

  • All the Leaves Are Brown, Let’s Smell Them!

    Fallen Leaves

    A couple of weeks ago my middle girl and I were hiking in the woods — yes, like in trees, we have lots of them here in Jersey — when I suddenly stopped to take this picture and managed to annoy quite a few joggers along the way.

    Can't help it, I want to remember.

    The sound of the trickling water was just so calming and then the smell of the wet leaves hit, bringing me back to my childhood, when my twin brother and I would dig for creepy crawlies and begin taking turns imagining the most fantastic stories of hidden little imaginary worlds.

    Gnarly Tree

    I've since shared these stories with my children AND with my husband, Garth (not his real name) who learned of my fascination with tree spirits on our first "day date" and, well, yes, now that they're older, my kids are just as surprised as you probably are, right now, that he even bothered to, you know, call back.

    Gnarly Vien

    I was going through some photos, because this is the winter "I swear" to print and display updated pictures around the house and, well, yeah, it seems I really do spend a lot of time looking down on the ground or up at the sky.

    "Look at those vines, Momma, let's go swing on them!"

    But, there was this one time in the woods when my kid and I ignored the disagreeable looks of passersby, took a swing on a gnarly vine and forgot about life's rough patches…for just a little while, anyway.

    "OOMPHUH!"

    Aaaaand, I may or may not have gotten a nose-full of leaves for my troubles.  Good thing I wasn't holding the camera, or my kid was too busy laughing, to take a picture, right?!?  RIGHT?!?

    [sound of crickets, chirping]

    Riiiiiiight, if anyone needs me, I'll be upstairs holding my middle girl's hair back, as we both finish getting SO OVER this warm-ish winter.

    Stupid creeping crud!

    © 2003 – 2012 This Full House

  • As I See It, The Difference Between Envy and Jealousy is Most Likely a Nice Shade of Turquoise

    Winter Blues

    My 16yo dreams of being a famous photographer and it shows.

    I'm a pretty tolerant mom.  I don't have very many rules when it comes to my kids picking and choosing their friends.  In fact, if anything, my husband and I try to encourage our children to be as open-minded and non-judgmental as they would want others to be.

    Until, one of them has a falling out and, well, easier said than done, right?

    On the one hand, it's difficult to remain objective while watching your child's heart break, as she drenches your shoulder with snot, believing that the world is indeed coming to an end and not want to rip their so-called bestie a new one.

    Then again, speaking as an adult (mostly) it's a little easier to understand that we each carry our own pain which, more often than not, influences the decisions we make in life, good and/or bad.

    Until, someone I care about inadvertently breaks my heart and, well, have you seen The Grudge?

    A black, inky sort of BLECH! creeps over my insides and NO amount of bleach or disinfectant can keep me from being swallowed up by its toxicity.

    I could always blame it on the winter blues.  Or, being a woman (enough said)  and claim jealousy on their part.  Then again, I cannot honestly admit that I have never been envious of others, for reasons that would probably sound very silly or childish, to say out loud, anyway.

    "So, have you spoken to So-and-So since, well, you know?"

    Then, one of my kids turns around and says something profoundly adult-ish, like this:

    "No, I've come to the decision that no matter what I do it will NEVER be good enough."

    Aaaaaand, I WANT TO BE JUST LIKE HER when I grow up.

    Morale of the Story:   Never miss an opportunity to make others happy, even if you have to leave them alone to do it.

    Then again, happiness is highly subjective (I think) and thank goodness for small favors, right?

    © 2003 – 2012 This Full House

  • Maybe She Knows Something I Don’t Know

    Tulips

    What do you call the flower that grows between your nose and your chin?  Tulips.  Get it?  Sorry, watched way too much Little Bear when my kids were little-er.

    A friend of mine called me yesterday and this is where my father would insist that…NO!…I don't have friends, I just know people AND after having said that would laugh the hardest (yeah, good one, dad!)

    Aaaaanyway, her youngest and my youngest are best friends, as of yesterday, as far as I know, anyway (they're 10 year-old girls, enough said.)

    "I've been very worried about you."

    Long story, short (you're welcome!) she saw our two girls walking together after school and later asked her daughter, "I haven't seen Mrs. Thompson this week, how is she?"

    "I can't tell you."

    Her mother, as any mother would, wanted to know, you know, why the heck not?

    "It's a secret."

    (more…)

  • Please Excuse My Daughter For Being Absent from School Yesterday….My Hormones Were Raging.

    I don't scare easily.  I have 4 kids, 3 of whom are teenagers, which simply means, not unlike Wolverine, I have evolved (somewhat) and grown nerves of steel, my friends:  Wolvermom, if you will.

    Wait, I lied.

    No, not about the having 4 kids part (I have weak stomach muscles and very poor bladder control to prove it, you're welcome) and my toe nails can get freakishly long.  Especially this time of….[blank stare]….uh, never mind.

    Aaaaaanyway, what was I saying?

    [stares at toenails]

    Oh yeah, so my youngest woke up feeling sick the other day (shocking, I know!) announcing that her "stomach feels weird" and these words, my friends, frighten me even more than trying to wake my teens.

    [shiver]

    So, I called her out of school explaining "her stomach feels weird."   Considering the stomach bug is currently running rampant at (and through) this particular school, enough said, right?

    An hour or so later, the house phone rings.

    "Your daughter Hope was marked absent, today.  Please send a note explaining the reason for her absence."

    Fine.  Okay.  Then, my cell phone rings.

    "Your daughter Hope was marked absent, today…."

    Fiiiiiiiiiiine, okaaaaaaay.  Then, I get a text.

    "Your daughter…."

    Really?  Because, I would NEVER have known and feeling a little cranky my ownself I decided this would be a good time to get some work done, opened my email and…

    "Your…."

    A'IGHT!!!  They asked for it!!!

    (more…)

  • HALP! There’s ANOTHER Teenager in the House!

    I remember when I first became the mother of a teenager — which, considering my oldest girl is 18 now (SOB!) truly is an amazing thing (that I even remember it, I mean!)

    Then my middle girl turned 13 and, well, any thoughts of my ever regaining full brain function flew right out the front door, along with the Christmas tree.

    Today, at precisely 2:05 a.m., my son joined the ranks of teenage-dom and not for nothing (word to Jenn) this time, it's different.

    Glen Growed Up

    What a difference a year makes, eh?

    I have to tell the boy to scootch down in order to scold him and, well, that's just not right, you know?

    I'm 5' 9".  Enough said.

    CURRENT COUNT:  Teens outnumber tweens 3 to 1 (HALP!) the latest having grown very adept at out-grossing his sisters with very realistic sounding fart noises during a sleepover with a few of his AXE-infused buddies, this past weekend.

    At least, I think they were pretending.  I was too busy trying not to puke and/or keep my head from exploding.  I still don't think the girls are quite over it.

    Me, either.

    Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and scrape a few of my brain cells from off of the ceiling and THEN maybe I can figure out a way to convince my 10 year-old daughter that burping the alphabet, during dinner with her grandparents, is SO NOT funny.

    According to my son, blowing milk out of your nose during a conversation and pretending like it is NOT EVEN happening is way funnier.

    © 2003 – 2012 This Full House

  • Becoming THAT Mom (AGAIN!)

    6 years ago, I freaked out a few of the moms in my middle daughter's girl scout troop by allowing her to wear a black skull cap school (what, you don't remember?!?)

    WARNING:  it was around the time I migrated my blog from WordPress, back to Typepad (yes, on purpose!) so, the post is filled with funky little characters and stuff.

    The spelling and grammatical errors, however, are ALL mine.

    Aaaaanyway, my middle girl was 10 at the time and I was curious to learn (okay, remember) how it felt to be THAT mom. 

    You know, whose parenting philosophy is similar to yours — on opposite day.

    10yo:  If I cut my hair off, will kids stare?  Me:  Maybe [one beat, two beats] 10yo:  Can you make an appointment for me, today?

    I've come to the conclusion that becoming THAT mom has something to do with your kid(s) hitting double-digits.

    FB post haircut 2

    I mean, even my hairdresser has a hard time saying, "Girl, please…" to this kid and if you've ever watched Jerseylicious, then you know, hairdress-suhs are fierce.

    Hope Cut 1

    After the eleventy-billionth time of her asking, "Are you SURE you want to do this?!?"
    Hope Cut 4

    Look, it's Emma Watson (almost!) but, wait there's more….
    Hope Cut 2

    So, my hairdress-suh says, "Let's throw some color up in there!"
    Hope Cut 5

    Really, Mom?!? (filed under: blackmail photos) <br>
    Hope Cut 3

    Look, it's Emma Watson (and her hairdress-suh!)

    So, yes, with the help of my dear, sweet friend Lorrie's magical scissors, I once again myself being THAT mom.

    Then again, Lorrie's daughter's hair is a lovely shade of Skittles AND even Hope agreed with me in thinking it looked FABULOUS!

    "Maybe when you're 12."

    Because, you know, even us THAT (THOSE?) moms have our limits.

    © 2003 – 2012 This Full House

  • Perhaps Miyans Just Had Trouble Grasping the Concept of Menopause?

     

    Winter Hues

    View outside my bedroom window this time last year.

    I love this time of year — especially, how the peaceful tones cast by wintertime hues of soft whites and grays make everything look so much more sparkly and bright.

    Until the snow starts to melt and the world begins to look like, you know, my living room carpet.  Still, this time last year? Snowmaggedon had dropped nearly 3 feet of snow and, well, that's just too danged much sparkly even for my taste. 

     

    This Full House Kids New Year's Eve

    New Year's Eve on Higbees Beach in Cape May, NJ

    This year?  This was us.   At the beach.   In December.  Here, in Jersey.  Seems Muh-thuh Nay-chuh is going through some hot flashes, her ownself.

    Speaking of which, is it hot in here, or is it just me?

    Aaaanyway, winter is back (I think) so, yesterday we popped by my folks' house for a quick visit (code for: make sure they remember to, you know, turn the heat on) and tried to teach my dad the concept of American football for the eleventy-hundredth time.

    Note to self:  grown men tackling each other over a ball is "stew-peed," stop trying!

    I've invited my in-laws over for dinner  (code for: it's really, really hot at their house) and, considering we're probably going to get nailed with, like, eleventy-hundred inches of snow in March — tonight, I'm serving corned beef and cabbage, just in case.

    Happy ValenSaintPatrickSpringter, everyone.

    (P.S. GO GIANTS!!!!)

    © 2003 – 2012 This Full House

     

  • It’s Nothing Personal, It’s Strictly B.O.

    Glen Wrestling

    Imma gonna beat your Axe!

    This is my son's second year wrestling for the middle school and even his sisters have pretty much grown accustomed to all the hollering and cris-crossing of bendy parts, hoping their baby brother does NOT break a limb, or something.

    Not on their watch, anyway.

    "THROW HIM DOWN!!!!"

    I, however, have become much better at watching some other kid beat the living Axe out of my almost 13-year-old son.

    Because, he hasn't wrestled anyone yet.

    His team had a lot of kids move onto the high school and — taking into consideration that he's nearly as tall as I am — it seems there just aren't as many kids wrestling in my son's weight class, this year.

    On the one hand, GREAT!  There will be NO bloody noses or broken body parts, tonight!

    "Maybe next week, bud."

    Still, it must be just as frustrating for him to sit and stare at some other guy's backside — wearing a singlet, no less.

    [cue mental etch-a-sketch]

    Until, last night.

    "THOMPSON!"

    Here we go.   I laced my fingers in front of my eyes.  No, wait, that was so last year. 

    "C'MON!"

    The kid was a lot shorter.  However, in width, he was twice the size of my son.

    "GET UP OFF THE MAT, GLEN!"

    Try as he might, the boy spent the next 3 minutes breathing through one nostril and his face was purple by the time the match was blessedly called to an end.

    "He was a real tough one…eh?"

    [frowning]

    "No! He stunk!"

    I was trying to come up with something else that would help reassure my son that, you know, maybe…

    "Literally, I took one whiff of him and I was DONE!"

    …next time, he should spray himself with a little Axe before each match or, better yet, wipe a little Vicks under his nose like some medical examinders do, or something.

    Then again, perhaps his opponent was just using body odor as diversionary tactic, no?

    Don't even get me started on cauliflower ear, ring worm and the bazillion other skin infections floating around out there…ICK!

    © 2003 – 2012 This Full House

  • The sea cucumber turns to the mollusk and says, “With fronds like these, who needs anemones?”

    I have this terrible habit.  Okay, so it's not as awful as picking your nose in public (dude, I totally saw you flick that sucker out your car window…oh…and EWWWWW!)

    Although, getting caught with a bat in the cave the size of a velociraptor, well, I would imagine they would be almost impossible to flick, without being noticed.

    [scratches nose]

    Aaaaanyway.  Oh, yeah, so I have this thing — a defense mechanism, really — of cracking jokes during uncomfortable situations.

    Like, today, I took my middle girl for her re-check with the pediatric surgeon and long story short (you're welcome) she's still in a lot more pain than what is considered normal-ish.

    (more…)

  • First Rule of the Irresolute Club: Make A List of Resolutions You Can Actually Keep

    Bench Full of Holly

    Taken on our New Year's Eve weekend getaway to Cape May, NJ and I still can't help but imagine why someone tied a bouquet of holly to this bench.

    I'm not a big fan of resolutions.  I mean, it's just another reminder of stuff  I never got around to doing, or failed to do right the first time around, DAMMIT. 

    On the other hand, January is sort of like a do-over.

    So, I made a mental list of the stuff I would like to "do better," because the second rule of the irresolute club: leave no paper trail.

    This year, I really, really want to try hard and cut sugar out of my diet…entirely.

    I've done well, so far (yes, I know it's January 3rd, your point being?) until this morning when I  absent-minded-ly poured sugar into my coffee (or, caw-fee if you're from Jersey.)

    But, rather than start the year out being wasteful (as well) I drank it, anyway.

    So, it doesn't really count.  Right? RIGHT?!?  Riiiiiiight.

    Okay, fine, here's a list of MY resolutions for 2012 which I can actually, you know, keep:

    1. Gain at least 5 pounds.
    2. Be more indecisive.
    3. Do less laundry.
    4. Use more deodorant.
    5. Drink more wine.
    6. NOT win the lottery (DAMMIT!)
    7. Declare procrastination an art form.
    8. Inhale.
    9. Exhale.
    10. Repeat.

     I mean, why set myself up for disappointment?  Right?  RIGHT?!?

    [sound of crickets chirping]

    Riiiiiiight.  Happy New Year, everyone!  Want to join the Irresolute Club?  What's on your list?  Is it 2013, yet?

    © 2003 – 2012 This Full House