This Full House Archive

Category: Raising Teens, Tweens & Killer Dust Bunnies

Blogged in the Year of Lord-Only-Knows

I've been spring cleaning the garage (okay, for the last 15 years, but who's counting?) and, as it turns out, I'm also a little behind on updating my kids' baby books.

This is where you ask me, "So, how far behind are you?"

Seems, my last entry was in 2002, when my youngest daughter took her first steps at 10 months-old.

Hope is turning 10 years-old, in June.

However, I started blogging in 2003 and have been consistently posting my family's milestones, since then, so, there's that, right?

[sound of crickets chirping]

Like, yesterday was my husband, Garth's (not his real name) birthday, just don't ask me which one (I quit counting sometime around 2004) since, you know, in the end, it's not the years that count, it's the mileage, right?

[welcome to cricketcon'11]

So, while Garth (not his real name) and I were out trolling our favorite garden center, yesterday (stupid rain) Hope made this birthday card for her father — HAH!

Our 12-year-old son made him this one and not only does he have his father's sense of humor (28 my left foot!) Glen also appreciates the value of money and its depreciating effects on one's bank account…DAMMIT.

My 15-year-old, however, seems to have inherited her Hungarian grandmother's affinity for making people cry…especially, on their birthday.

My 17-year-old daughter drew this brilliant caricature of her father (HAH!) and, now that I blogged about it, I can reflect back and remember what my husband looks like (stupid extended banking hours) also, after uploading the pic, I just noticed that she signs her name to look like a butterfly, too.

I just love that!

"Honey, do you remember when we bought the water heater?"

In fact, I recently found myself referring back to my blog's archives for non-fluff and totally tax related purposes, only.

"Uh, no, but…wait…I blogged about it…um…okay…back in 2009!"

Too bad my husband, Garth (not his real name) didn't ask me that question, last year, right?

Stupid crickets!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

April 26, 2011
This One Time, At Camp Poopy

Kids are on spring break, this week (note to spring: feel free to show up, anytime, now, thanks) and Hope, who has been looking forward to staying with her godparents, to work their iris farm, ran from the car, suitcase in hand and excitedly announced her arrival.

"I'm ready to spread manure!"

Yes, the kid loves nature THAT MUCH and I am not even kidding, when I tell you, it's ALL that we, her teacher, the kids in her class, our next door neighbor and the mail carrier, have been hearing about, for weeks.

Unlike her older sisters, she is not afraid to get dirty and I tease my son that she is actually a lot like what I imagine having a younger brother would be like, too.

Much to the delight of her godmother, who raised two boys and also happens to be a little bit crunchy…even before crunchy was cool…and often joked about not knowing what to do with a girl.

So, in my eyes, it sort of fits that fate bring these two together and, truth be told, makes my heart feel a little squishy, knowing that, when all else fails (i.e. my attempting to convince some therapist that my youngest daughter's childhood wasn't really all that bad) Hope will remember this one time, at Pittsgrove Farms.

When she helped spread manure and really, really liked it. Actually, I'm not sure what is on her hands and was, at the time, reassured by her godfather that they're really not going to make the kid spread manure…shhhhh…but, don't tell her, okay?

"Aunt Cheryl made applesauce pancakes, this morning!"

Uh-oh.

"You lucky goose!"

Wait for it.

"Mom made us ALL eat granola."

Yes, but we're having waffles…for brinner!!!

Note to spring: don't bother, I got this!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

April 20, 2011
Spring Break Day 1: Chocobeast Vs Cheesecakemonster

I don't know about you…but…scaring the pudding…out of MY KIDS…like this…to the point where they will be up…fighting for leg room…IN MY BED…for the rest of the night?

You know, there better be a FREAKISHLY LARGE piece of ricotta cheesecake…waiting…just…for…me.

Just sayin'!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

April 18, 2011
Be Kind 2 Earth Day: So, You From Joisey?

We are big time supporters of the National Wildlife Federation (yes, we have wildlife…in Jersey!) my kids have been reading Your Big Back Yard and Ranger Rick for years (thank you, Grandma and Grandpa) so, I was very honored to partner with the NWF as a Founding Mother of their Be Out There campaign.

Why?

Contrary to what other people may have told you (if you're not from Jersey) there are some very pretty places to visit here (YES, in New Jersey) and no, I am not even kidding.

Okay, but why SO defensive?

My parents immigrated from Hungary (my father was 19 and my mother was 14, younger than my oldest girls, by the way) and worked very, very hard to make a home for our family, here in Jersey.

Even in retirement, working the land and cultivating their tiny piece of the American dream to the point where they are both barely able to walk, my parents remain passionate about teaching their grandchildren to respect the earth…EVERY DAY!

Morale of the Story: This is MY home. My kids live here. This is their legacy. Trash our state and I will go all Hungarian on your behind.

Want to help?

My friends Cooper and Emily of TheMotherhood.com have just launched a cool Earth Day inspired digital campaign with the National Wildlife Federation and Nickelodeon, enlisting bloggers in every state to help spread the word about B Kind 2 Earth Day:

The initiative is simple: promise to do one nice thing for the Earth on April 22nd — a "like" for the B Kind 2 Earth page equals a promise.

It's been a looooooooong (and HARD!) winter and the kids are on spring break, next week (FINALLY!!!) so, as a BK2 Leader representing New Jersey, I'm calling all you's out (YO!) to do, or say something nice about our home state.

Like, we promised to unplug, go outside and help our 104 year-old neighbor clean up her yard.

Also, doing the same along any of the beaches, walking paths and hiking paths we'll be visiting and generally just helping out around the house during our annual staycation with my parents, next week.

So, you from Joisey?

Go "like" the B Kind 2 Earth page, and let's show everyone how kick-butt New Jersey is by adding to the state participation count…YO!!!

Any-uh-yuhs got a problem witdat?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

April 15, 2011
Shoulda Asked the Baby Name Genie

The girls and I, along with my mom, were invited to a baby shower a few weeks ago and…uh…no…my son was not very happy about it.

"Why can't I go?"

[hands on hips]

"Because, it's for girls ONLY!"

My 9-year-old, however, was THRILLED…until…the part where they played what turned out to be some pretty fun baby shower games.

For example, to help break the ice, guests who liked the names their parents chose for them were asked to stand in the living room and those who, you know, unliked their name moved to the dining room.

My mother (a.k.a. Eva) and I happen to like our names and, even if we didn't, she and I were very happy to stay, right where we were and, you know, not have to lose our seats.

Besides, it was sort of fun watching my teenagers (a.k.a. Holly and Heather) freeze, then rock back and forth, indecisively, for once.

What?

I told them it was perfectly okay if they didn't like their names (eventually) and, since they are 17 and 15, that I would not be offended, in the least, seeing as, at this point in the game, they dislike most everything my husband, Garth (not his real name) and I say, or do, anyway.

My mother then tapped me on my shoulder, pointed toward the dining room and there was my youngest daughter (a.k.a. Hope) with her arms folded across her chest and standing, right there, in the front row.

"I wanted to be called Robin!"

The room burst into laughter (I have that affect on people, sometimes) and, well, shame on me for not listening to her, in the first place and the REAL funny thing is, Robin WAS on our list.

FLASH FORWARD TO YESTERDAY: After asking my son to take out the garbage for, like, the eleventeenth time, he just stood there, with arms folded across his chest, in the middle of the kitchen.

"WHAT?"

[frowning]

"You just called me Hope!"

Really?

"Which time?"

After hollering, for somebody, or anybody, to do something, after all these years, I sort of forget.

[hands on hips]

"My name is Glen!"

I knew that.

"How come my name doesn't start with an H, like the girls?"

Because, Heidi wouldn't have worked and I told him that there's a pretty neat story behind the reason why we chose the name, Glen (with one N only, please) but, I will save it for another blog post (you're welcome) also, Hunter Thompson was taken.

"I know, I know, it means a quiet place for salsa."

[grin]

"Actually, it's solace, Hope, not salsa."

[hands on hips]

"Actually, it's Robin!"

UGH!

"WHATEVER!"

Apparently, no one says whatever anymore and, I get it, as a parent of teens and tweens, the only thing hip about me is, you know, my hips….or, should is be are…I forget?

Morale of the Story: Picking out baby names is hard; having to explain it to your teens and tweens is even harder; just ask the Baby Name Genie!!!

Because, clearly, Ella Scarlett, Reese Delilha, Layton Maurice and Perla Danielle Thompson sound, you know, waaaaay hipper, right?

Fiiiiine, but try hollering those names, five times, real fast, go ahead, I'll wait.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

April 13, 2011
Don’t Make Me Have to Use UPPERGROWL!

We're dog sitting for very dear friends of ours and, uh, no Doofus-Dawg is NOT happy and not just because Sassy enjoys sitting in his favorite chair, either!

Although, Sassy has stayed with us before, I swear, Doofus is still not finished getting over it, yet and I kinda, sorta think he's a little afraid of her, too. This time, however, she seems to have grown real attached to my son.

Sassy is at Glen's side, constantly, all weekend and even growled at my youngest daughter for tossing one of her game pieces, in frustration (okay, so maybe it was Hope who growled) but, I still thought she was really being, you know, sort of cute (the dog, I mean!)

Until, I cleaned up after dinner with the inlaws and came into the living room to find Sassy lying next to my husband, Garth (not his real name) IN MY SPOT and, when I tried squeezing in, next to them, well, this time, she really DID growl!

Yeah, I know, right? Still, you can't help but admire her, uh, self-determination and yes, I realize that she's just another dog with extreme territorial issues and epic gastronomic concerns (especially, when fed too much table food, or cheese…UGH!) on the other hand…I guess the same could be said about a lot of people (ahem) too.

So, who am I to judge, right?

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Yep, it's going to be a looooong week. I hope Glen gets home, soon!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

April 11, 2011
Best to Worst Combinations of Children
Guess How We Ranked?
A friend of mine posted this link to an article on Facebook, yesterday, stating, “Want to be happy? have two daughters,” and, seeing as three out of four of my kids are, you know, hormonally-enthused (ahem) my first thought was, WOW, we must rank pretty-gosh-darned-high, for once, dagnabit.

Apparently, we do, in the worst possible way:
“BEST” TO “WORST” COMBINATIONS OF CHILDREN
1. Two girls
2. One boy and one girl
3. Two boys
4. Three girls
5. Three boys
6. Four boys
7. Two girls and one boy
8. Two boys and one girl
9. Three boys and one girl
10. Three girls and one boy <— WHOO-HOO, THIS IS US!!!
11. Two boys and two girls
12. Four girls
Of course, results are highly subjective, however, I was relieved to learn that parents, with four children of ANY gender, in general, found it harder, with meal times, mornings and the bedtime routines stated as being more difficult.

Well…DUH!…and I mean that in the most subjective way possible.

Long story, short (I know, too late, still) it brought to mind a pretty funny thing that happened with my son, the other night.

He was sort of annoyed with his sisters (no surprise there, right?) then, had a HUGE mental blow out with his dad and me (see last parenthesis) ran up to his bedroom and this is the part where he would have SLAMMED the door…if he had one.

Instead, he came back downstairs looking for…wait for it…A HAMMER!

[eyes go wide]

“Or, do you think this would break open if I bashed it on the ground?”

Apparently, he was rummaging through his stuff, found his old ATM-style-coin-bank-type-thingies and, well, I was just sort of happy he didn’t choose something a little more, you know, bashable.

“I’ll get it open for you.”

Because, I happen to come from a family of 2 kids (one boy, one girl) and can handle stuff like this better than my husband, Garth (not his real name) who has 4 siblings, which, does NOT even rank on the charts…understandably.

Also, my father was the king of “let’s just jimmy this sucker open!”

“But, I lost the combination!”

Having also inherited our habit of, you know, losing keys.

“Hand mommy that screwdriver, over there, would ya’?”

After a few minutes, I was able to get it open (after taking out the batteries, in order to kill…I mean…quiet the stupid alarm, of course) I then sat back and watched, quietly, with extreme prejudice, not saying a word, as my son carefully extracted its contents:

* One G.I. Joe figure
* Two quarters
* One stretchy man
* One Junior D.A.R.E. badge
* A picture of his 2nd grade class trip to Sandy Hook
That last one helped us date these treasures and I half-expected my 12 year-old to go all boyteen, on me, or something.

“You know, I can’t believe I thought any of this stuff would be SO important to me!”

Me. Still. Not. Saying. A. Word.

“Boy, was I stupid!”

Morale of the Story: 2 out of 3, 3 out of 4, whatever, one day, it just won’t matter as much, oh, and in this house, we don’t need no stinkin’ combinations, either!

Or, something like that.

“You should really blog about this, mom!”

Really? Can I?

“Yeah, so I can read it, for the next time I get MAD AT YOU for NOT HAVING any MORE BOYS!”

I rest my case!!!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
April 8, 2011
Where the Earth Meets the Sky
(YES, in Jersey!)

When my kids were younger, I used to love to take them to Monmouth Battlefield State Park and not because it's just down the road from the best gosh-darned apple cider donuts made in New Jersey, either.

Although, I do not miss those double-stroller days (okay, maybe just a little) I was a bit taken aback by bittersweet moments (okay, more like suffering a major heart squeeze) as they each fondly remembered the museum to be a little, you know, bigger.

I felt the same way (sort of) but, for many different reasons…four of them, to be exact.

Still, it was a good day and there's something about the openness of "the battlefield" that makes my kids want to go all, you know, feral.

To run free. Unrestrained and out of focus, yet knowing that they are well protected from the highways, that run within a stone's throw, on either side.

Oh, I'm not saying that every day is this pretty, or promise that the road ahead isn't filled with tons of goose poop, either.

There was this one time, however, on the battlefield, when we found the exact spot where the earth meets the sky.

And, well, I just love that, you know?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

April 4, 2011
Doofus Domesticus vs Phasma Phasmatis

Exhibit A: Came home to find the cat's dish and cereal bowls neatly stacked in the living room.

Exhibit B: Where they were when I left the house, this morning.

Exhibit C: Doofus-Dawg avoiding eye contact which, clearly, is an indication that he's got something to hide….not to mention, he can reach the sink AND the stove…PINHEAD!!!

Truth be told, the fact that he neatly stacked the bowls, when he was done…you know…cleaning them…is sort of freaking me out…okay, more than just a little…or, maybe we have ghosts.

Either way, I wonder what it will take to get them to fold the laundry?

Since, you know, I can't get my kids to understand that the dish washer is dirty….DAMMIT!

On the other hand, I could just let the dog take care of it, seeing as he doesn't seem to mind licking the floors and vacuuming the crumbs off the carpets, either.

But, THEN what would I complain about?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

March 30, 2011
Mom Blogging Pain Scale

My mom and I were talking and both happened to glance outside her kitchen window and watched, as my 9 year-old tried to get her 15 year-old sister, who was reading a book at the time, to play with her.

Judging by her stomping off and kicking her brother's scooter, it was pretty clear to the both of us that her attempts were, you know, unsuccessful.

"I think she caught us looking."

Because, the kid quickly turned and thought better about leaving the scooter in the middle of the cul-de-sac.

"She's going to kill me, that one is."

Okay, I know, yes I was being overly dramatic (sort of) but, after 17 years of raising kids (and killer dust bunnies) I'm pretty tired at this point in the game.

Does it show?

I fully expect that they (i.e. non-parental units living in my house) will figure this out, soon enough, especially once I finally get those iron bars mounted to their bedroom window(s).

"It's never easy, no matter how old your kids get."

My mother was right, of course (just like with most other things, as I've learned over the years) I swear, she's got this sixth sense about her.

It's like the woman knows what I'm thinking, or, at least, what she thinks I need to hear.

"Nope, you never stop being a parent."

How DOES she DO that?

Then, it hit me (as the most obvious things tend to do) like a smack to the forehead.

"Moooooooom, can you PLEASE do something about her?"

It's called validation and pretty much the reason why I started contributing to the blogging community, almost 8 years ago, in the first place.

"What would you suggest…hanging…crucifixion?"

My 15-year-old suggested that a burning at the stake to be more than sufficient.

Contrary to the latest blogging statistics and demographics, I chose to go outside and scooter, instead!

"Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"

Un-motorized, even.

[sound of crickets]

Silly mom bloggers.

Edited to Add: I drew the Mom Blogging Pain Scale (not bad, eh?) but, the photo was taken by my 15 year-old and she doesn't know that I used it (yet) but, she will be okay with it, once she sees that I gave her full credit.

[heavy sigh]

Blogging used to be a lot easier, you know?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

March 28, 2011