This Full House Archive

Category: Raising Teens, Tweens & Killer Dust Bunnies

It’s Called Word-of-Mouth AND Drive-by Mothering

Can you judge a mother by her shopping cart…in MY case, ABSOLUTELY…go right ahead…I triple-dog dare you!

If you were to ask me, years ago — before blocking the MTV channel and searching for un-holey jeans at Hot Topic ruled my world — what I disliked most about being a mom, I would have answered, without hesitation:

"Answering to other moms!"

Although, having to explain myself…to anyone…is STILL really hard — especially, without relying on cocktails, or the use of visual aids — living a fishbowl existence and swimming along with the same old school of thought, day after day, is even harder.

"Oh, just LOOK at how SHE is dressed…I would NEVER let my little Muffy wear black, EVUH!"

No flaming. I understand. Maybe even have told Buffy (you know, Muffy's mom) that we went through something similar. However, today, I would totally see Buffy's point and perhaps raise her an opinion…

"Oh, she's just expressing herself."

…or, two.

"But, absolutely NO belly button piercings until at least 17!"

Point being (I really do have one, I think) I find myself relying A LOT more on, you know, what OTHER moms are saying.

"Hi Liz, just wanted to let you know that, you know, cookie orders are due."

Yeah, it's girl scout cookie order time (AGAIN!) and I knew, that my youngest girl's leader knew, that I was supposed to hand those in, like, a week ago.

"I hate being THAT mom!"

[silence]

Because, my father-in-law drops Hope off and I don't even see, talk, or hear anything from any of the girl scout families, anymore, since picking up the afternoon/evening shift at work.

"You know, the one who forgets EVERYTHING!?!?"

[very awkward silence]

"I'll drop it off, during pick ups, today."

Even though, I don't really know whether I'm dropping off, or picking up, unless another mom, you know, texts me.

"Hey, isn't that my girl scout leader's car?"

Why, yes, yes it was AND she's stopping to talk to me…uh-oh…right here…in the middle…of traffic!

[rolls down driver's side window]

"Heh, good timing, did you stop by my house, yet?"

Then, I realized something (besides the fact that my oldest must have put the cookie order into my tote, I mean) after 16 years of raising kids (and killer dust bunnies) it doesn't matter.

[passes cookie order through window]

"Here ya' go!"

I still have NOT learned to, you know, get over myself!

"Well, that worked out well, didn't it?"

At the end of the day, no matter how crazy it gets, or how absolutely awful I feel, somehow, it really does NOT matter.

"I'll be seeing you."

At least, my being able to admit that…YES!…I am THAT mom….hopefully, helps other moms see that, no matter, we ALL come together, in the end.

"Hopefully, sometime soon!"

Aaaand, if not, don't worry, I'm on YOUR side AND I'm pretty sure, with my help, other folks will understand, too – especially, if you ARE a mother!

[fast-forward to CVS, last night]

"Muffy is at her Valentine's Day party at girl scouts, tonight!"

It's like the mother of all barking chains, really.

"Wow, well, Hope has hers tomorrow, so I guess I'd better check my email, then, huh?"

Stupid girl scouts!

© 2010 This Full House – All Rights Reserved.

February 9, 2010
Yes I am Wearing Red for Women AND Men!!!

It is National Wear Red Day 2010 in support for the Go Red For Women movement.

Yes, I am wearing red. I happen to like the color (A LOT) but, it's a simple and powerful way to help raise awareness of heart disease and stroke.

But, what about men?

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) heart disease is the leading cause of death in the United States:

"About every 25 seconds, an American will have a coronary event."

Aaaaand, I asked my kids to wear red (if they had something clean, I mean) NOT just because I happen to like the color (A LOT) either.

"Doesn't Uncle Bradi have heart disease?"

No, but my twin brother is ALSO fighting something just as deadly.

"You mean, Farah Fawcett type of cancer?"

Kids today, you know, they talk AND they have a very keen sense of perception – especially, standing in the check out lane at the grocery store.

"No, sweetie, but he's fighting really hard, like your Papa, too."

My children are well aware of the terrible effects of heart disease,
with a bird's eye view from their stroller(s), while seeing my father
through one life-saving procedure after another.

Thanks to his doctors, surgeons and my mother's valiant attempts at
maintaining a healthy lifestyle, by keeping his diabetes in check, as
well, my father has been beating back the effects of heart disease for
quite a few years, now.

[knocking on wood until knuckles bleed]

So, yeah, I'm wearing red.

"Is your, or my heart bad, too?"

Aaaand, NOT because I think I'm someone special.

"No, I don't think so, sweetie."

But, my kids sure do.

"That's okay, I like red."

I know.

"It looks good on you!"

Yes, I am wearing red.

"Aaaand, I love my Papa!"

Especially, for him…too…GO RED!!!

© 2010 This Full House – All Rights Reserved.

February 5, 2010
Wordless Wednesday: 365 Days – Just Another Sick Day

Another snapshot courtesy of my 365 Days microblog project — where I'm taking a self-imposed timeout, every day, to post wordless (you're welcome!)

Check out the Official Wordless Wednesday HQ
Tag, you're it: Wordless Wednesday

Also, I'm letting it ALL hang out on Flickr

© 2010 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.

February 3, 2010
Writing Challenge #8: Plot – Let Sleeping Kids AND Their Perceptual Parents, Lie

This is part of a writing challenge at {W}rite-Of-Passage, a community of bloggers who are looking to get back to the writing part of blogging and brainchild of my friend, Mrs. Flinger. Today’s challenge was to write a post with a clear plot – the point in which you are trying to make (I know, good luck with that one, right?)

——————————————————————-

It’s Napalooza at Mama’s house (stupid camera!)

Yesterday, my husband Garth [not his real name] and I made plans to take the kids to visit with my parents, who are both dealing with difficult health issues at the moment, for a turkey dinner.

What? I clean. My mother cooks when she’s frustrated and, well, seeing as the kids haven’t had a decent meal since I started working, who am I to argue, right?

“I’ll bring the green bean casserole!”

Seeing as, I am NOT a total shitehead, either, I also offered to cook the turkey, too!

“No…nuh-uh…that’s okay.”

Apparently, the kids have been talking with my mother…about me…too.

“So, how are you guys…”

Aaaand, the flood gates opened.

“Your father probably needs a pacemaker and those 3 knee replacements I had, didn’t work!”

Apparently, my parents had 2 emergency medical visits, last week and, NO, they didn’t call me.

“We didn’t want to worry you!”

So, of course, by Sunday morning, I was VERY worried!

“I don’t care if you ARE still naked!”

Aaaand, annoyed — because, when taking showers, some kids have to be reminded to, you know, actually GET IN THE SHOWER!

“WE ARE LEAVING IN 5 MINUTES!!!”

Long story, short (you’re welcome!) as much as the kids ADORE my parents (me, too) and love visiting with them (sort of) it is never an easy trip.

“Move your seat up…I’m squished…move over…I…can’t…breathe!!!”

In fact, just getting in the car is enough to drive a sane person to, you know, walk the 44 miles.

“ENOUGH!!!”

When it comes to head-spinning, Linda Blair has got nothin’ on me!

“Next person who speaks, gets grounded for a week!”

Long story, short [don’t mention it] you coulda cut the tension with a spoon and, well, at this point, my husband and I weren’t speaking, to each other, either.

“What’s wrong?”

I don’t know what it is.

“C’mon, tell me.”

Ever since I was little, I could NEVER lie to my mother.

“Nothing, really!”

Until, at least, around dessert time.

“I don’t…[sniff]…know…[snort]…what to do!“

What? Some people go to therapy. Hungarians cry. Right into our desserts.

“I know, me either!”

So, we allowed the flood gates to open, once more — we sat, we talked, we cried, we hugged, got over the fact that, you know, sometimes life just has to happen and there was peace in the dining room, once more!

Until.

Napalooza 2

It was time to wake the kids.

“I don’t WANNA go home!”

Really, can you blame them?

“There’s always President’s weekend!”

Aaand, I bet that YOU don’t even have to guess real hard how my mother knew that the kids would be off…and willing to sleep over…that weekend…TOO.

Other folks participating, today:

Write on!

[Click here to view past Writing Challenges]

© 2010 This Full House – All Rights Reserved.

February 1, 2010
You Can Haz “Flawz!”

See that really pretty girl, up there? Well, her name is Caitlin Crosby and she is a singer-songwriter in her twenties.

Yeah, I don't remember what it was like…either.

However, raising 1 tween and 2 teenage girls (no, I haven't forgotten about the boy) who fight with image issues, as early as the 2nd grade (yeah, I know!) aaaand then…every…blessed…day…for the rest of their lives…well, it IS slowly (and painfully) coming back to me.

"Oh great, another pop tart!"

Being a mom (or dad) is hard (understatement of the year) but, IMO, parenting teens and tweens, at an age when female performers are advertising "sexy" as the new "sixteen," or "sexteen," if you will, well, my life IS downright rock-like.

Then again, us parenting-types haz flawz…too…aaaand, I'm not just talking about sagging breasts, or laugh lines, that continue running down, right to my butt, either!

[allows time for a mental etch-a-sketch]

Caitlin created a home-made and moving video highlighting all people from all walks of life embracing (and loving) who they are.

So, while I try to convince a couple of appliance delivery dudes that, "YES, you got the right house," and "I'LL MAKE IT FIT, DAMMIT!" please feel to grab a beverage and take a moment to watch (and listen to) FLAWZ:

Color me optimistic (or a little naive, even) but, I really like the message in Caitlin's new video (not to mention, her bangin' voice) and, well, maybe, juuuuust maybe, there IS hope for us parenting-types, too!

FLAWZ and all!

© 2010 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.

January 29, 2010
Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Yes, I Lie Like a Rug, My Name SHOULD Be Matt!

Been working A LOT of hours, lately (SHOULD be feeling blessed, I know) younger kids are feeling ornery (no, I don't blame them) older kids been picking up the slack (thanks, you guys) and, well, let's just say I've pretty much blown any chance (as if, I were even close to being, you know, in the running) of winning "Mother of the Year," after both my 8 and 10 year-olds announced:

"Things are just not the same, since you went back to work!"

[shot to the heart]

You know when I said that it's a mother's right to decide what works best for her family? Well, I lied! Like a rug! It is so not THAT easy.

"Can't we just go back to the way it used to be?"

[salt to the wound]

So, for your viewing pleasure, courtesy of a blast from my blogging past, I present to you Dancing Matt 2008!

[Note: Includes really awesome music and feel free to go and grab a beverage — it is SO worth watching all the way through — oh, and I triple dog-dare you NOT to smile!]

Thanks for the dance, Buzz and (if you find yourself all, like, "Who the hell are you?") you just can call me, Matt!

Check out the Official Wordless Wednesday HQ
Tag, you're it: Wordless Wednesday

© 2010 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.

January 27, 2010
11 Things I Learned, Raising a ManChild

"11 Things I Learned Raising a ManChild"

Create a free slideshow with Picnik!

Happy 11th Birthday to my ManChild and…NO!…I did NOT let your sisters color their hair…until they were in middle school, anyways and…YES!…I am well aware of the fact that you are now in the 5th grade!

[checks calendar]

So, you know, you can always try me again, next year.

P.S. I love you!

© 2010 This Full House – All Rights Reserved.

January 25, 2010
Movers, Shakers and (sometimes inadvertent) Garbage Pickers

I'm an impulsive mover. I move things. From here, to there, or maybe it will look better in THAT corner.

If I had a dollar, for every time my husband, Garth [not his real name] came home to find the house looking a little, you know, different? Hmph. Well, the poor guy could use a pair of industrial strength shin guards!

"YOUCH, when DID THIS get in here!?!?"

I'd be doing dishes (yes, dishwasher is STILL broken) and I'll be staring out the kitchen window, when, all of a sudden, it would hit me.

"Maybe the kitchen table would look better in the dining room?"

It's a sickness, I know.

"We'll be there, tomorrow, between 12 and 3."

So, I, once again, ignored the growing pile of clean laundry (don't try this at home, I AM A PROFESSIONAL!) and continued to deny the fact that the holidays have been over for, like the last two weeks (it's gonna be a Valentine's tree) and started, you know, moving stuff.

From here, to there, etc… (desk looks like a television hutch, because, you know, it was) to make room for a new couch!

[heart's all a flutter]

I've been saving up for this baby (yes, with MY own money) and FINALLY bought one (yes, with REAL money) with the intention of cozey-ing-up our game-slash-laundry-slash-media-slash-mom's hideout-slash-playroom.

"I'll MAKE IT fit!"

Did I mention, the room is cozy, or that the doorway, to get in, is even, you know, a cozier fit?

"It ain't gonna fit through that door, lady."

Der. I know. That's why I spent the rest of the morning, cleaning up after the dawg (two whole hanging baskets full of Doofus-dung, thank goodness it was frozen, you're welcome!) so that the delivery dudes could bring Molly (we name our cars, too) through the back door.

"Mierda!"

Now, I don't remember much of my high school Spanish (brain cells are at a premium, these days) how-evuh, I do speak several languages…of POOP!

Long story, short (you're welcome) Miss Molly fit right in and it's as if I designed the room around her, right?

Riiiiight. Color my decorating style as, "sheer dumb luck," whatever, sometimes, change is good — I am THRILLED with the end result and, well, guess where I'm spending the rest of MY morning?

Go ahead, I'll wait.

Aaaaaand, YES, I am totally ignoring the fact that I forgot to lock the cabinet and Doofus-Dawg got into the garbage, AGAIN!!!

[heavy sigh]

Some things NEVER change, stupid dawg!

© 2010 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.

January 15, 2010
This Ones Tricky, You Have to Use Imaginary Numbers, Like Eleventeen

I give up, you figure them out…

When I told my husband, Garth [not his real name] I was pregnant with our youngest, it didn't come as much of a surprise, really; not like the first time, I mean, when he closed his eyes, fell back on the bed, grabbed his head (with both hands) and sort of just laid there, for a few minutes, moaning.

We had already signed the contract on this house (less full, at the time) and then came Valentine's Day and, well, he WAS there when it ALL happened.

Three more (+) signs, later:

"Well, at least, no one will have to sit alone, on the rollercoaster."

Then, all of a sudden, our lives turned into one big Dr. Seuss book:

One Kid, two kids,

Meh, what's one more kid

Some have brown eyes, except their brother

Don't ask me why

Go ask your mother.

Little did we know, all those days (and nights) ago, how prophetic my husband words would be.

GAH! Now, I'm speaking in rhyme? Hang on, this will be real quick.

[slams head on laptop]

There, that did the trick…I mean…where was I?

Rollercoasters? Feh, they're for wussies. Raising tweens and teens? Best get your barf bags ready, now. Not only will they make you eat your words…

"I will never YELL at my kids, ever."

They'll make you chew on them a bit, first, before spitting them all over your sensible shoes, too!

"HANG UP YOUR WET TOWELS, DAMMIT!!!"

Wet towels. Tragic. I know.

[sound of puking]

I got sick, this week…NO, I'M NOT PREGNANT!

[knocking on wood until knuckles bleed]

I know, because I got my period at the same time (you're welcome!) it's how I roll and, well, best get your heating pads ready, now. Being a woman sucks. Being a woman of a certain age, sucks wet poodle.

"Go back to bed, Mah!"

It was already dark, the kids were ALL home from school (thank you, Carpooling Mom!) but, it was the quiet that woke me.

"Buh, dinner…breakfast dishes still…I gotta go…um."

Stupid analgesics.

"Your sick, we got this."

Aaaand, with a slightly confused and saddened heart, I turned toward the stairs, thinking that perhaps it was good that the kids were learning to take care of themselves (jinx) and slowly climbed closer to the realization that, one day, they won't be needing me, at all.

"Sheesh…she's like a kid, sometimes."

Judging by the frequency of my bathroom stops, I imagine it will be real soon, too.

© 2010 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.

January 8, 2010
TLC Book Tour: The Body Scoop for Girls (Pssst, It Ain’t All Pretty)

Yes, my mother and I had "the talk," at least once, that I can remember. The day I got my first period, my mother and my aunt set up a lounge chair in my grandmother's backyard, handed me a glass of lemonade, saying something about sitting in the sun being "good for you" and I still remember thinking that, somehow, the rest of the neighborhood knew.

"You're a woman, now."

That, along with being herded into a darkened gym with the rest of my 7th grade class, to watch someone's mother (or, older sister maybe) wrestle with a "sanitary belt" (I know, I'm old, shuddup!) was the extent of my education into womanhood — until, I had children.

"Don't be afraid to ask mommy ANYTHING!"

[pointing down there]

"What dis called?"

Um…wait…I know this one.

"That's your…um…pooh-tee."

Say it with me…FAIL! Then, a mom friend of mine told me about a body book for girls put out by American Girl and I immediately ran out and bought 2 copies (1 for me and 1 for the girls) and it was good — until, I had teenagers.

[lifting bra and pointing at, well, you know]

"Is this normal?"

[eyes go wide]

I have the extreme pleasure of being the 1st stop on the TLC Book Tour for January 2010, featuring The Body Scoop for Girls by Jennifer Ashton, M.D., Ob-Gyn.

Got lemonade?

(more…)

January 6, 2010