This Full House Archive

Category: Raising Teens, Tweens & Killer Dust Bunnies

Teenagers, You Goth To Love Them!
One of the BIGGEST fallacies you'll ever hear about parenting teenagers…IMHO, as a parent of teens, four times over, maneuvering through waves of hormonal and emotional angst for the last 9 years…both theirs AND mine…is the popular belief that parents of teens are entirely responsible for their children’s behavior.

That is SO not true! I am mostly responsible for my teens behavior, but not entirely.

Like adults, teenagers have their own agenda and many times (okay, mostly) it involves doing exactly the OPPOSITE of what their parents would do in almost any given situation and, well, it's a part of growing up.

Hope: I'm going to go with Holly and pick Heather up from work!

Unless you happen to be 13 years-old AND your 3 siblings happen to be older than you…well then…I am most assuredly responsible for her behavior…entirely.

Me: Hang on, let me see your face!

Something you may or may not know about me: I don't have a very good poker face and will undoubtedly be the MOST popular person at the Texas Holdem table. Also, the poorest.

Hope: What's wrong with it?!?

However, after 21 years of parenting, you think I would know better, right?!?

Me: Nothing, just stay in the car and try not to scare anyone!

Nope!!! Judging by the way her shoulders dropped as she walked away from my desk, not my best parental moment.

I am, however, a Professional Dork and totally comfortable with calling out myself for being an asshole — except for this one time.

Holly: Was that REALLY necessary?!?

My oldest was more than happy to take on THAT job.

Me: I'm not happy about her wearing THAT much makeup.

Now this is where my middle girl would remind me about the time she went through her Goth stage and be all over me about how I was NOT helping my youngest with building her self-esteem…if my middle girl had been home when this all was going down, I mean…but Holly was kind enough to take on THAT job, as well.

Holly: Yes, but you're not helping her confidence any.

See what I mean?

Glen (shivering): EEESH!!!

My son was sitting right behind me, playing his video game and making it clear that he wanted NO part in this conversation, until the girls left the house.

Glen: She's sooooo pretty, why does she want to hide it behind ALL that make up?!?

And you know what? I started to brain-vomit ALL the stuff that SHOULD have been said to my 13 year-old:
- It's hard to be the youngest
- Feels sort of like getting lost on a crowded street
- Standing out from the crowd
- Finding her own identity
- Being comfortable in her own skin
- And if that means wearing black lipstick…so be it
Except I was saying
ALL of it to my 16yo son.

Me: And now she HATES me!

Aaaaaaaand, flashing my parental insecurities like a bead-hungry and slightly drunken reveler on Mardi Gras.

Glen: She doesn't hate you, she just doesn't like you very much, right now.

Did I mention my teens are WAY smarter than me?!? In fact, I think maybe I've learned more from my teens these last few years as their mom than…well…let's just say, they've been doing most of the adulting, lately.

Soooooo, I thought to myself…SELF!!!…what would teens do?!?…WWTD?!?…I texted her an apology.

Then I sat and stared at my phone. And sat. And stared some more.

Me (siiiiiiiiiigh): She's not answering me.

Aaaaaaand, then my cell phone rang.

Hope: I just saw your text, Momma….

I'm not at liberty to share the rest of our conversation, but suffice it to say that I am forgiven and continue to remain an example of exactly how NOT to act…to my children AND other parents…you're welcome.

She's a little bit Goth, I'm a bit of a Dork…okay, A LOT! #nofilter

In fact, she agreed to a selfie and insisted that I blog the moment…you know…as a reminder…in case I forget what an ASSHOLE I can be.

Glen: Aaaaaaand, another tender moment brought to you by HORMONES!

Teenagers, you gotta love them…I mean…because GOTH!!!…but I love them! Seriously.
March 6, 2015
Toiletexting: It’s A Real Problem – At Our House, Anyways!

I started blogging in 2003 (with 4 kids home all under the age of 10) and I remember how most of my mom and dad friends (at the time) thought I was soooooooo crazy, because who has the time…really?!?

Photo of my Mom with her grandrugrats, taken circa 2003 B.P. (before picmonkey)

They were right, of course! Those were some crazy-busy daze, my friends! On the other hand, blogging was (and still is) cheaper than therapy.

And then Facebook happened (i.e. one of the top ten BIGGEST time sucks in internet history) and now we can ALL meet up for some coffee (or cawfee, if you're from Jersey), rather than wave at each other as we attempt to maneuver our way OUT of a school parking lot (I don't miss having to do school drop-offs and pick-ups anymore, NOT ONE BIT) and now we can discuss parent-type things…on the internet…in our pajamas…from the privacy of our own bathrooms and everything…YO!!!

Looking back on it now, I kind of…sort of…almost…miss those crazy-busy daze…but living in a house with 3 teens and 2 other adults can get really weird, too!!!

Most especially when one of them texts you…from the bathroom.

I was warming up the car to take our youngest to school, because they haven't shoveled the bus stop (which is a whole OTHER blog post!) and, well, standing out in 13 degrees…with a wind chill of minus HOLY CRAP IT'S COLD…would make me have to go to the bathroom, too!

Moral of the Story: Teens are REAL DEEP sleepers and GAHDFUHBID one of them replaces the toilet paper!

By the time I got back inside the house, Holly was already awake and had gotten her baby sister some toilet paper. And I would have been MORE pissed about it…if it weren't for the fact that…after getting out of the car and going back into the cold…I also had to go to the bathroom…like REAL bad, too…YO!!!

[sound of crickets, sighing]

Dumbass polar vortex, stupid weak bladder!

February 19, 2015
PLEASE Don’t Call It A Sweet Sixteen Party!
My son is turning 16, next Friday. SIXTEEN!!! The difference between his turning 16, as opposed to my two oldest daughters having crossed that bridge…with very little pomp and circumstance, other than a group sleepover…YAY!!!…while my 13 year-old daughter is already clipping through fashion magazines for prom dress ideas…WOW!!!…is that the boy insists his turning 16 is really not ALL that big of a deal.

Guess what he wants for his birthday?!? G'head, I'll wait!!!

Glen: I have to tell you about something my friends and I did in school.

Aaaaaaaand, here's where being a mom of a teenager (for the last 9 years) comes in REAL handy.

Me: [blank stare]

Rather than jumping to conclusions (which is the only form of exercise I seem to be getting, these days) and imagining the worst possible things my son and his friends could have done, to want me to hear it from him first…because TEENAGERS…I've learned that's it's probably a real good idea to just…you know…shut up and listen.

Glen: This kid invited us to a party.

Still shutting up and listening.

Glen: He's a special needs kid, it's his birthday, but we're not sure how we feel about going.

This is the part where my brain nearly exploded and it took ALL of my strength (mental AND physical) to not want to revisit the last almost-sixteen years of parenting my son, because clearly I'm NOT doing it right.

Me: What do you mean, you're not sure how you feel about going?

My husband and I have been especially mindful of our childrens' need to be able to understand and acknowledge empathy, however, our parenting doesn't always necessarily translate well outside of the home…because PEER PRESSURE!

Glen: We want to go, but for the right reasons.

So I asked him for their reasons:
- Birthday Boy visits everyone's lunch table, for a few minutes, every day.
- On this particular day, he invited each of the kids to his birthday party.
- He had a list of 21 kids (TWENTY ONE!) who accepted his invitation and said they would go…and then as soon as Birthday Boy left their table…they whispered to each other how…nah…they really weren't going.
- Throughout the day, my son and his friends were asking around, you know, to see who was going (or not) to Birthday Boy's party.
- None of them expressed any interest in actually going.
And the number one reason why my son and his two best friends actually went to Birthday Boy's party:
- How would YOU feel on your birthday…if no one showed up…seriously?!?
Not including my son and his two best friends, four other kids were there and they ALL had a really great time — especially, Birthday Boy!

Don't get me wrong. This is not a post about how I feel my son is better than your son (or daughter) and, quite frankly, the boy is especially gifted at driving his father and I bat-shit-crazy…more often than not…trust me.

Glen: You can blog about it, if you want to.

But because people are always so quick to point out how (or when) a kid should (or shouldn't) act…especially if he or she is not your kid…it's nice to hear whenever a teenager is NOT driving his parents bat-shit-crazy.

Glen: Because not ALL teenagers are like that.

Aaaaaaand, my son thought it was good to know — me, too!

Glen: But…PLEASE…don't call it a sweet sixteen party!

Sometimes, these blog post titles just write themselves…YO!
January 16, 2015
Free labor!

I was pregnant with our oldest daughter when Garth (not his real name) and I bought our house, which makes for an awesome timeline…because our oldest daughter turned 21 in November…and now I don't have to worry about doing too much math, to figure out that we bought this house 21 years ago and…YES!!!…I'm an awesome planner, like that.

3 more kids later, not so much.

This house was supposed to be our starter home. What?!? Okay, fine. I guess it's safe to say that we're just really sloooooooooooow starters…ahem…aaaaaanyway, a modest 3 bedroom home would fit us perfectly.

3 more kids later, not so much.

Now that the kids are mostly grown and 2 are very nearly out of the house, there's really no reason for us to upgrade to a larger home. See how that ALL worked out?!? Besides, our 3 girls have grown used to sharing a bedroom for this long, what's another year or twenty, right?!?

Note to our girls, if any of you are reading this post right now: that was totally a rhetorical question.

Anyway, here's the really, really, best…I mean like totally AWESOME…part of having ALL 4 kids STILL living at home:

It's 38 degrees and sunny out, ALL HANDS ON DECK!

FREE LABOR, enough said! Oh, and if you're wondering where kidlet #4 is?

Hope likes to organize stuff, she gets it from her Dad!

I've put her organizational skills to good use — she's already gone through the ENORMOUS stack of filing that's been piling up since I don't remember when and is waiting for permission to shred!

The Christmas tree, on the other hand, will most likely stay up until around sometime in February…because I'm also easy-breezy, like that.

©2003 – 2015 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything! Also, I'm attempting to blog EVERY DAY in 2015, I hope it lasts! #TFH365

January 2, 2015
13 Things NOT On My Bucket List

Blogging while under the influence of teenagers is hard, but blogging in December is way harder and this is where my son would holler, "That's what SHE said!" from somewhere else in the house, because teenagers are very selective about their hearing and especially with regard to retaining information — most especially when passing along said information, at the most inappropriate of times.

Siiiiiiiiiigh.

Oh, and I was going to throw in something about working full-time, but decided not to (you're welcome!) because life sort of has a way of coming back and biting me in the butt…REAL HARD…and I happen to looooooove AND neeeeeeed my job.

Soooooo, how about if you and I cop a squat on the couch, grab a couple of pillows and chat a little bit about anything OTHER than the holidaze…kids…bills…or not being able to identify the source of the smell emitting from the kitchen, at the moment, m'kay?!?

My friend, Melissa created a brilliant list of blog post prompts to get us started…or 128 ways to help ease my current state of blogstipation…because having words stuck in your head is painful, man!

Today, I'm hitting up #7: 13 Things NOT on My Bucket List (in no particular order, but equally as terrifying):

1. Bungee jumping: I'm terribly afraid of heights. Like in can't-get-past-the-third-floor-of anything-AND-fight-the-urge-to-puke-my-brains-out-at-the-same-time-type of terribly afraid. Besides, I free fall all the time. It's not pretty, even this close to the ground. I'll be happy to cheer you on, with my eyes closed and everything.

2. Skydiving: See number one above. See also, AHHELLNO!

3. Ride in a hot air balloon: Okay, so we've pretty much established the fact that, if it's off of the ground, but I can still see the ground or feel the slightest puff of wind on my face, it's most probably on my NOT list. But I'll be happy to cheer you on, with my eyes closed, etc…

4. Hold a monkey: I've seen how they look at me, maybe start off with handshake first?

5. Look inside a mouth of a volcano: We have teenagers, been there and done that.

6. Blow glass: Considering I mistakenly suck in when blowing bubbles, all the time.

Hang on a second…

Alright, get it out of your system…THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!!!!!…and shouldn't you be doing your homework or something?!?

…thanks, moving on…

7. Have my nude body artistically painted: As far as YOU know, anyways (you're welcome!)

8. Own a fabulous pair of designer shoes: Because my feet don't write checks my mouth can't cash…wait, that didn't come out right…THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!!!

9. Have drinks in an ice bar: Because I am that dork who tries to see if their tongue sticks to the bar and…well…YouTube couldn't handle so many hits…YO!

10. Survive at paintball: Two minutes in, I'd be dead.

11. Drive a zamboni: Okay, I lied. YES!!!

11. (for real!). Go skinny-dipping: Oh wait, nevermind.

12. (because 11 is being a jerk!). Find out how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop: Especially, NOT in an ice bar!

13. Eat frogs legs: Without eating the whole frog, I mean…because I'm an ALL-IN-type of person, as well…YO!

Okay, your turn to tell me what's on or NOT on your bucket list. Better yet, blog it!

©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything!

December 10, 2014
The Growth Plates

It's been 10 years since my parents sold their house and moved further down the shore to live in a retirement village, or what my kids fondly refer to as "Camp Mama and Papa," but they each have their own very special memories about the house on 10 Union Street and enjoy sharing stories that usually begin with, "Remember that time at Mama's and Papa's old house?" and end with my youngest not having a clue about what they are talking about.

"You were just too little to remember."

It's tough being the youngest, sometimes. Okay, mostly every day, especially if you ask our youngest. She was only 3 years-old when my parents moved and, unlike her 3 siblings, she hadn't "learned how to swim in Mama and Papa's pool" or "ride a scooter down their street" and finding little reminders around our own house isn't helping any.

"Are these the plates Holly, Heather and Glen keep talking about?"

Hope was helping me clean the house, the other day (someone was probably coming over for dinner) and she came across a set of plates, tucked way into a corner and hanging next to the bookcase.

"Yes, and I forgot they were even there."

They're a set of wooden nesting plates my parents brought back from one of their trips to Hungary, and they used to hang along the stairs in their entryway of their "old house", like this:

We would use them to measure how tall the kids were growing, judging by the size of plate they could actually reach and pull off of the nail. But I'm not sure (i.e. that brain cell burned off long ago and I just can't remember) if anyone was big enough to reach the largest plate.

So, I asked Glen and Holly….because Heather was at work and, well, we already know that two out of three ain't bad….according to Meatloaf, anyway….and if you don't know who Meatloaf is….look it up, youngster.

[sticks out tongue, blows bangs out of eyes]

Sooooooo, according to Glen — who has all sorts of random facts stored in his brain, he gets it from his father — nope, no one could reach or has ever been able to pull the largest plate from its nail.

"Oh, really? Watch this!"

Until now, because being the youngest (and smallest) can make a kid feel way more competitive than her siblings EVER were, daaaaaaaaangit. Also, this happens to be the same kid who sent out her own birthday invitations….

"Hi, I'm R.S.V.P.-ing for Hope's birthday party."

….without bothering to mention it to me, her father OR anyone else.

"Oh, I see…and I should have known…it was written in crayon…."

Along with a note scribbled at the bottom, saying:

"Der wilbe food cak fwom da stor and yuky tee"

No, I don't have the invitation. Did I mention, she's the 4th in line? Of everything?

[kicks half-finished baby book under desk]

Yeah. I know. I suck. Soooooo, let it be known that:

Hope is the only kid tall enough to reach AND pull the largest plate from its nail….HUZZAH!!!

[sound of crickets chirping]

We moved the growth plates to a more prominent and very visible area, you know, as a reminder. In case she forgets. Not to mention, one of the plates happens to cover up a rip in the wallpaper….very nicely….guess which one?!?

"OH WAIT!!! I remember something!!!"

[eyes go wide]

"I remember going with you to take Papa to look for a new house…"

Yes, yes she did!

"Then tripping on the sidewalk, falling down and ripping my knee open!"

Yup, she gets it from her mother.

©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything!

November 14, 2014
Fun With Keyword Analysis

Blogging is hard! Blogging while under the influence of children is even harder! Blogging with teenagers living in your house? Okay, picture this: it's sort of like attempting to recite the Pledge of Allegiance…backwards…while riding a bicycle…naked…uphill…in the snow…with two flat tires and a missing seat.

My two oldest will tell you: (left) UGH, no (right) YO!

It's daaaaaanged near impossible to blog, especially these days. Not without exposing myself to some serious hurt, I mean.

[rubs backside, reaches for Ibuprofen]

And yet, here we are — just you, and me, and this here broken bicycle. RELAX, I am wearing clothes. As far as you know, anyways.

[double-cringe]

Aaaaanyway, so don't get me wrong. Yeah, I've been blogging for 11 years. And no, I do NOT consider myself an expert — of anything other than the insanely awesome super power of leaping over tall piles of laundry and having be given the ability to listen to multiple conversations, happening at the same time, I mean — although, the folks who've been coming to my blog recently, seem to think I'm some sort of knowledgeable.

Not these guys, tho.

Aaaanyway, here are some of the answers to the keywords that brought some of you here, because I'm helpful like that:

Absent letter for school for waking up late: Please excuse [enter child's name, here] for being absent from school on [enter date of absence]. You see, my office won the lottery drawing last night, however, [enter child's name, here] accidentally used the tickets to line a diorama for his/her math project, to help illustrate how the odds are NEVER in our favor, and we were up ALL night trying to break into the school to retrieve said diorama, because no one EVER wants to make their co-workers hangry, especially first thing in the morning.

So, thank you for your kind attention and would you please let his/her math teacher know that [enter child's name, here]'s project is now going to be a little late, too.

Oh, and that we left a check in his/her desk to cover the damages to the classroom window, as a result of our hasty escape. Yours very truly, etc…

Or something like that, I'm easy.

Boardwalk with stores and carnival games:

[cracks knuckles, blows bangs out of eyes]

Well, let's see, there's Keansburg – which is about a 15-30 minute drive, from our house, depending on traffic.

Point Pleasant is 30-90 minute drive, etc…

Seaside Heights is about 45-180 minutes, off-season. Summertime? Fuhghetaboutit!

Wildwood – you best plan for an entire week, getting there and back, just to be safe.

They were all hit HARD by the bitchstorm, Hurricane Sandy – 2 years later and we're still re-building — but now they are ALL back in business, because it's how we roll, here in Jersey…YO!!!…so c'mon ova, the beaches are free from now until Memorial Day, we can split the toll money!

Down the shore diaper story: Believe it or not, I've got one for ya' — it was my very first blog post, from September 2, 2003 — ohhhhh, and a very Happy Belated Blogiversary to meeeeeee!!!!

Eating right kids: Yeah, I seem to eat all the wrong kids too, whassup wit-dat?

Gross Halloween games for kids: Refer to above.

Middle school halloween party games: Wow, you're going to need A LOT of antacids, my friend.

Teen feets: This one is REAL simple, THEY STINKS!

Why everyone is in such rush: Because, raising teens and riding bicycles uphill…in the snow, naked…is hard…YO!

That last nugget of parental brilliance should bring all sorts of search engines to the table, right?!? RIGHT?!?

[sound of crickets, chirping]

I'm throwing in Facebook stickers, FTW! Because I'm tech-savvy, like dat!

©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything!

October 14, 2014
The Evolution of a Worry Wart

I don't know what happened, really. I wasn't always such a worry wart. In fact, folks who knew me back in the day (you know, when social media was just a twinkle in Compaq's iframe and we actually face-timed each other, for real) would probably agree — I was pretty loosey-goosey about stuff.

Siiiiiigh. That's right. Loosey-goosey. Look it up, youngsters. Aaaanyway, where was I?!? Loosey-goosey. Face-time. Social media. Back in the day. Oh yeah, I remember now — soooooo, then I started having kids and…HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!…another worry wart is born.

Yep, raising kids has consistently proven to be quite worrisome — teenagers, on the other hand, have issues…ISSUES!!!…like in major energy-sucking, hair-raising, skin-crawley, makes your brain itch-type of issues…and social media isn't helping any.

As a parent of 4 teens…fine, so the oldest is in her 20's, I'm in denial, a'ight?!?…I still don't have the "right" answers, but I can tell you that it's been a long, slow and drawn-out process…worry wartdom, is…here, let me show you:

And if butterflies are free to fly…then fly away…far away…bye-bye…la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, laaaaaah…

Oh sure, I totally remember the baby daze…when I was all like…ohhhhhh….mah baybeeeez…they are soooo cute…and cuddley…GAH!!!…wook at doze baybeeee toes…nom, nom, nom…[sniff-sniff]…and doz brand new baybee smellz…DUH BEST!!!

I got a news flash for you, Kermit…it's not easy being a parent…either.

Ohhhhh…ummmmm…okay…wow!…what IS that smell…GAH!!!…this sh*t just got REAL, you guys…and WHOA!!!…can you say "snot factory"?!?…ohhhhh…WOW!!!….who knew stuff could come out of ALL the things…THAT FAST…and at that same time, too?!?…IS THAT EVEN NORMAL?!?…daaaaaang, I don't feel so good…because, PROJECTILE VOMITTING!!!

Does my makeup look okay…oh, and hang on a second while I…HURL!!!

Okay, so which one of yuhs forgot to flush?!?…WOW!!!…and what in the world did YOU eat…IS THAT EVEN NORMAL?!?…wait, what?!?…oh, okay…sooooo, you ate ALL the Play Doh…EVERYBODY IN THE CAR, we're going to the doctor, RIGHT NOW!!!…holy crap on a cracker, what do you mean they ALL have strep throat, too…UGH!!!…ohhhhhh, wait a minute…now I'm really not feeling so great.

Aaaaand, if you pinch your face and facepalm long enough, it'll stay that way, trust me on this one!

Wait…soooo, let me get this straight…you're NOT allowed to wear sneakers and the girls are not allowed to wear anything shiny for the play…so you NEED black dress shoes and the girls NEED long-sleeved, blouses…in warm Etruscan red tones…ONLY!!!…right, okay…soooooo, when IS this play…what do you mean, TUH-DAY?!?

This part is brought to you by the letter B: for "biting" your tongue more often than not and did you know that stress can make you all "bloaty" and stuff?!?

Soooooo, what time IS this party, anyway?!?…aaaaand, who's all going?!?…and where IS the party, again?!?…ohhhhh, it's a sleepover…AND hey YOU'RE driving…soooooo, I shouldn't worry…okay, riiiiiiiiiiiight…let me get the door for you…whoopsies…wow, who knew front doors could break AND stay locked, so easy…oh, soooo I see you've used the window before…RIIIIIIIIIGHT!!!

Aaaaaand then your kids turn teen: welcome to full metal worry, complete with no sleep and a complimentary set of horns, my friend.

So, you want to go to this concert…aaaaand the concert is 3 states away…but your friend just got his permit and he's going to drive yuhs there…if I let you borrow the car…okay, sooooo….no…um, no…that would ALSO be a no…and, wait, let me think about it a little…ummmmm…OH HELL NO!!!!…yeah, I know you do…BUT I LOVE YOU, BABY!

P.S. It doesn't stop when they become adults, either.

Long story short: I didn't always look like this, my teenagers MADE me this way! Aaaaand, for those of you with younger children, feel free to consider this to be a cautionary tale:

Don't worry so much about the teenage years, you WILL survive. Maybe not in one piece. And definitely less easy-breezy about stuff. But, you ARE also in very good company!

Okay, now somebody remind me…m'kay?!?

[sound of crickets, chirping]

You like my new hat? You can't EVEN see the wart, RIGHT?!?

©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything!

October 10, 2014
Mom, Mistaken For A Zombie, Gets Punched In Throat!
Living with 2 teens and 3 other adults (who have opinions AND are NOT afraid to use them), it's not very often that we all agree on…well…anything, really. Unless, we're talking Zombies. And if you're into Zombies? Well, then for the love of all things George Romero, feel free to clean off a chair and sit down, my friend…because there is always room for one more walker!

Source

Because, 13 MORE SLEEPS UNTIL THE WALKING DEAD!!! YAY!!! We are ALL big fans of The Walking Dead ova here, and have been following along since Season 1, but last season — what, with all the"What IS this Terminus" or "What's with the flowers?!?" and "OMG, LIZZIE?!?"– nearly killed me!!!

Here's the thing: I just get way too involved in the story line (because, there is lots and lots of drama in Zombieland) and they would've left me behind for Zombie food not even halfway through Episode 1.

"OMG!!! NOOOOOO, RUN…QUICK…THROUGH THE FRIGGIN' GREEN DOOR…ON YOUR LEFT…NOOOOOO, YOUR OTHER LEFT!!!"

[opens green door]

"GAAAAAH!!!!"

Who knew? Eleventy-billion zombies…OMG!!! RIGHT THERE!!!…dripping with oozey-Zombie flesh…waiting for my sorry ass…right behind the friggin' green door.

"Mom, could you NOT?!?"

Yep, I'd be the one my kids smack in the leg with a baseball bat and leave behind as Zombie bait.

[eyes go WIDE]

Aaaaaaand, then it hit me…like a baseball bat to the leg…I could easily be mistaken for a Zombie, because:
- Zombies, kind of, sort of walk funny — I've carried children and given birth, four times, me too.
- Zombies look all drawn and haggard — I've got teens, enough said.
- Zombies are hungry, all the time – ME, TOO!!!
- Zombies react to sound and MUST investigate — because, teens are LOUD…oh and…BOOYAH!!!!…I just remembered where I hid the good chocolate…[insert deep, guttural groan here]…CHAAAAAAW…CO…LUT!!!
- Zombies have a hard time sitting down or getting up from chairs, without falling on their faces — because, gravity can be stupid like that.
Hah! So, when the Zombie Apocolypse arrives…because, OH YES, it is coming…all I have to do is pretend like I'm one of them and…CHAAAAAAAW…CO…LUT!!!…no Zombie food for you, skin suckuhs…NOT TODAY!

"Until someone throat-punches you and you pass out at the sight of your own blood."

[blink, blink, blink]

Long story, short: because, watching television with teens is hard.

Source

"Ooooooh, there's my pretend boyfriend, he looks REAL YUMMY!!!"

[cringe]

"Ewwwwww, that's just ALL SORTS OF GROSS, Mom!!!!"

Moral of the Story: because, watching television with teens can be REAL FUN, too…YO!!!

©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything!
September 29, 2014
15 Things You Never Say to a Perimenopausal Woman

Being a mom is hard. Being a mom of teens is…uhhhhhhhh…excuse me for a moment…HEY! DID I NOT JUST SAY THE DISHWASHER IS DIRTY?!? GET YOUR PLATES OUT OF THE SINK, DAMMIT!!!…ummmmmm….what were we talking about, again?!?

[takes another sip of coffee, blows bangs out of eyes, plays with chin hair]

Oh yeah, NOW I REMEMBER! So, I was thinking. Dangerous, for a dork like me, I know. Still. I've been reading lots of blog posts and articles online about what we should or shouldn't be saying to a pregnant woman…EVUH!!!…because, DUH!!!! She's probably NOT in the mood for silly shenanigans, like asking her if it was a planned pregnancy.

Well, it's actually…NONE OF YOUR FRIGGIN' BUSINESS!!!!…but thanks for asking.

That being said, I think it's also equally important to realize that saying one or more of the following, to a peri-menopausal woman, may or may not get you some serious hurt:

1. Daaaaang, it's cold in here

Shuddup and turn down the thermostat, would ya'?

2. Why are you so moody?

Ohhhhhh, other than my uterus feeling like it's on fire and attempting to strangle the rest of my internal organs, AND IT'S HOT IN HERE, no reason, really.

3. Meh, sounds a lot like PMS.

Yes, now with EXTRA BLOAT and saggy-boob sweat…HUZZAH!

4. Relax, you're just being overly-sensitive.

Oh, my gosh, I'm soooooo sorry…here, you better put some ice on that and don't worry…the swelling should go down in a couple of days, mostly.

5. All you need to do is change your diet and exercise.

Good idea, I'll go get MORE ICE!

6. Sorry, we're all out of cherry limeade.

Oh okay, and here's my mailing address, just bill me for the damages.

7. You look too young to be going through menopause.

[blank stare]

8. I'm so sorry, but we don't carry that particular shoe in wide.

Right…soooooo…do you know of anyone else who stocks YETI?!?!

9. The bathrooms are for employees, only.

WE NEED A MOP ON AISLE 6, PLEASE!

10. Let's go bathing suit shopping!

We're gonna need a bigger mop, AND MORE ICE!!!

11. Let's go jeans shopping!

See number 10.

12. Maybe you just need a nap.

YES!!! And turn down the thermostat on your way…zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

13. Do you remember where you put…

No, is the air-conditioner even working?

14. Do you remember where I put my…

NO!!!! WHY IS IT SO FRIGGIN' HOT IN HERE?!?!

15. At least you don't have to worry about getting pregnant.

Two words: vaginal atrophy.

You're welcome.

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September 16, 2014