This Full House Archive

Category: Raising Teens, Tweens & Killer Dust Bunnies

  • When being bad feels pretty darn good!

    Minimemickeydee

    In here? Yes. You mean, here? Yep. Now? Yes. Are you wed-dee?
    Uh-huh. Wed-dee? Um…go ahead! In here? Just, DROP IT…um…good job,
    Sweetie!

    I explained to the cashier – poor thing looked a little scared and
    kept backing up, the whole time – as Mini-me and I were dropping off a
    donation to RMHC, for The Big MoFo Delurk, yesterday.  Thank you all very much for participating (you too, Miss Zoot) and helping me show my kids that, yes, mommy can open her wallet and spend $15.00 on something other than milk, eggs, bread and fabric softener.

    Even though I didn’t get to extend the dollar amount into the triple
    digits – like, Miss Zoot would’ve – because, it nice to be able to do
    something right, for change.

    [heavy sigh]

    Besides, Garth (not his real name) is angry enough with me, already.

    Funny, he’s such a Dudley Do-Right (don’t worry, he knows it) and it
    is one of the (many) terms of endearment I would use whenever our
    friends wonder how in the heck we EVER got together, in the first
    place, since I was a bit of a rebel – back in the day and way before
    children.

    Yes, Liz B.C. was a bad girl – are you shocked? My parents would be,
    if they read my blog, and my mother-in-law probably doesn’t believe me
    (yes, she reads me) anyways.

    But, that was then and now I have four other egos to stroke….including my husbands.

    “How much do you want me to spend, tonight?”

    We wolfed-down ate dinner and Garth (not his real
    name) got home just in time to see me and Thing Two leave for the art
    auction being held at the high school.

    “Okay, thanks….but, I don’t think we’ll have to donate any more than that.”

    Liar, liar.

    “We’ll be home around 9.”

    Pants on fire!

    “Thing Two will probably find it boring, anyways.”

    Nose as long…whoa, hold on there – no need to get personal – but, my parenting skills haven’t been the best
    lately and I already owed Thing Two some private time (Thing One’s
    still sort of mad me, anyway) so, bidding on gorgeous pieces of art for
    charity was the perfect excuse for a mommy-daughter-night-out.

    “But, what about meeeeeee!?!?”

    Next time, it’s Mini-me’s turn.

    “But, the girls get to do stuff with you all the time!”

    After The Boy, of course!

    “Be good for daddy.”

    Because, mommy is about to do something really, really…BAD!

    “Look, it’s a Wooster!”

    Honestly, it was exciting to be able to buy something – especially,
    since most of the bids started at $150.00 – from one of my most
    favorite artists of all time – Jane Wooster Scott.

    “Aaaand…so is THIS one!”

    Getting two framed and SIGNED lithographs – for the price of what it would have probably cost just to frame one – made me feel like such a winner!

    “For only two-hundred bucks, it’s a steal!”

    I’ll save you from having to hear the rest of my verbal beating argument (you’re welcome) but, a bulk of the money raised last night is going back into the school system (heaven knows, we need it) and he knows I never spend that much money, at once, on anything, unless it’s on the kids, going in the fridge, or the gas tank.

    “What’s the matter with daddy?”

    Swell.

    “Nothing you have to worry about, Sweetie.”

    Liar, liar – dang, but mommy lies a lot – just call me Matt.

    “Why isn’t Thing Two going to school, today?”

    Because, Garth (not his real name) and I weren’t speaking – sometimes, it is
    better to just walk away – I went upstairs, shut our bedroom door, but
    I was too angry to go to sleep. I decided to put away some clothes and
    developed a few new curse words.

    “Stupid [bleeping] closet!”

    GAH!

    “Momma?”

    Dang it.

    “I’m sorry!”

    UGH.

    “For what?”

    And the tears came fast, now.

    “I told you not to wimp-out on buying those pictures and now you and daddy are getting divorced!”

    If, being a grown-up can stink…THIS MUCH…then, living with one has to SUCK!

    “No, baby…it’s going to take a lot more than that!”

    I tried to explain it, the best I could – because, there are
    going to be plenty of other times when her dad and I won’t like each
    other, so much – but, moms and dads don’t know everything (act
    surprised, okay) when the answers don’t come quickly and we need to
    work on getting through the bad times, too.

    “Can I sleep with you?”

    Well, daddy certainly won’t and – seeing as she’s 11-years-old and an honor student – I sometimes forget that she’s still a kid.

    “Of course!”

    So, we crawled into bed and watched Letterman.

    [snicker]

    I am officially declaring a mental day – because, I am a dork – and
    if there is anyone else out there, who’s feeling a little bad….go
    ahead….give yourself a break and just go with it….it is what it
    is….but, it can always be better and because I said so, damnit!

    As for Garth (not his real name) well, we kissed (sort of) and I
    hope to be able to make up and be friends, again. By the end of the
    week, I think. Or, before Aunt Flo visits and all hell breaks loose!

    Wish me luck!

  • It takes a tough woman to render men, chicken – The Final Episode

    [Part I…Part II…the story continues]

    One of the reasons my husband says he married me – besides the fact that my father probably begged him to, no doubt – is that I make him laugh, no…matter…what…and – after 18 years and raising four kids, together – there HAVE been plenty of whats between us.

    "WHAT – the hell do you mean, you’re pregnant – AGAIN!?!?"

    Trust me!

    "Well, at least we’re happy and our kids won’t be fighting over our money!"

    Of course, I’m kidding – sort of.

    "Oh…my…doG…you’re WHAT!?!?"

    When I told Garth (not his real name) that we were pregnant with Thing One, he actually threw his hands up, placed them on his head head, started pulling at his hair (when he had some to, you know, grab) threw himself down on the bed and just lied there, for a few minutes, petrified beyond words.

    "Um…did I mention that I am actually going to be the one, you know, giving birth?"

    See, one of reasons I married my husband – besides the fact that my father would probably pay him too, anyway – is that he is the ying to my yang.
    [snicker]
    All joking aside, Garth (not his real name) makes me stop…and think…even…when…I…don’t…want…to.

    "Are we really ready, for THIS!"

    Oh, stop it.

    "We’ll have to start thinking about buying a house, saving for college and…oh, my doG…what if we decide to have more kids!?!?"

    No, really…STOP!

    "Let’s just have this one, first, before we start wigging-out…m’kay!"

    We did, times 4, and then, before I knew it, the time had come.

    "Aaaaand…what time does the middle school get out?"

    When it comes to someone – especially, a boy in high school – showing that much attention, in my 13-year-old daughter, I am scared stupid!

    "Well, just in time for ME to pick her up and I am her mother, by the way."

    Something in my head was like…oh, SNAP…and I wanted to yank the living hell out of his ying-yang!
    [nods head and swipes debit card]

    "Well, then do you believe in Freshman Fridays?"

    [nods head and enters pin]

    "Oh, absolutely NOT and anyone who does…well, they should be tarred and feathered…that’s WHAT!"

    [eyes go wide]

    "Um…thank you."

    I turned toward my 13-year-old daughter – who was still in shock, and deeply engrossed in a one-sided conversation, if I hadn’t intervened – grabbed her hand and smiled triumphantly.

    "Have a nice day!"

    Later.

    "What was all THAT about?"

    Ah, she speaks!

    "What?"

    Okay…I knew, what…it’s just that, after all these years of pretending like I did NOT care…I got nothing…and was merely trying to buy myself some more time…and think of…you know…something.

    "WOW…I never had a guy, you know, give me that kind of attention."

    Yes, I know…damnit.

    "Thank goodness you were there, Mom!"

    Okay…um…WHAT?

    "I’m so used to people thinking of me as, you know, the quiet one, who sits in the back…and you don’t know how it feels to finally have someone notice me."

    Actually, I do and it SUCKS!
    What I did tell her is that no amount of makeup – no matter how heavy an eyeliner, or dark the lipstick – would ever disguise the fact that she was still too young to deal with that kind of attention.  And her father and I will probably continue to make decisions – not to mention, more than a few mistakes – that will probably piss her off, no doubt.  But, we would love her, anyway.  Just as anyone, should. With, or without the use of cosmetics.

    "What’s Freshman Fridays?"

    Wait, I wasn’t finished…because, I still want to tell her about the fishnet stockings and mesh fingerless gloves…that her best friend was wearing the other day…that I was really worried about…ah, but never mind…I think…I will think on it, some more.

    "Um…I have NO idea."

    Thing One just shook her head and smiled.

    "I’m just used to being, you know, your mother and we can always google it later."

    It’s okay, she knows.

    "Don’t worry – I get it, Mom – it’s just that I’m not used to the attention and I guess maybe I’m not so ready to date guys, either."

    Neither am I, kid – especially, that you ran straight for the phone to tell your bff.

    "Guess what just happened…TO ME?!?"

    And your father’s not too happy, either!

    "That’s it, no dating for you until you’re 21!"

    Nope…and it is NOT going to get any easier, either…just go with it, dear.
    But, at least we’re talking – my sincerest thanks to the teenage delinquent, behind the counter – forgive me, but I still wonder if there will be a time when we WILL be ready…ever.
    Just so you know:

    Freshman Friday – In many high schools, Fridays are celebrated by putting freshman in garbage cans, or stuffing them into lockers.  It’s amazing how creative the upperclassman can get, really.
    via:  Urban Dictionary

    Then….I still stand by what I said, you bunch of delinquents!

  • It takes a tough woman to render men, chicken – Part II

    […Part I, and the story continues]
    Seriously, I thought I was going to puke – and my husband looked much worse, by the way – but, I continued to tell Garth (not his real name) about the teenage delinquent (because you’re right, no one is good enough) and how he had the nerve to hit on my 13-year-old daughter, our baby girl, right in front of me, her mother…HELLO…I’m standing right next to her…you stupid teenage boy…and with a hicky on his neck THIS BIG!

    "Hiya doin’?"

    Poor Thing One, she jumped and nearly spit her gum out onto the counter.

    "Haven’t I seen you someplace?"

    Oh my heavenly, doG, he has GOT to be kidding me!
    [shrugs shoulders]
    That’s right, baby – pretend like you don’t care – it should never be that easy, EVUH!
    .
    [rings up notebooks]

    "So, gettin’ ready for school?"

    No, DUH – I’m sorry, but can I just tell you?  You don’t know how difficult it was for me NOT to say that out loud!  My face, on the other hand.
    [rolls eyes]
    I was like, oh how cute (this was before I noticed the hicky, of course) but, you’re going to have to do a LOT better than that, if you want to be impressing my baby girl.  I taught her better than that, boy-oh!

    "Well…um…[gag]…yah!"

    See?
    [nods head]

    "Freshman?"

    Okay, now hold on.
    [cracks knuckles and strikes defensive pose]
    You’re right – she’s still too young to be having this type of conversation – but,not five minutes ago, we had a very heated discussion about why I thought the eyeliner and dark lipstick she was wearing was fine for dress ups.
    [the sound of crickets chirping]
    .
    Yes, Thing One and Thing Two (she’s 11) still like to pretend – only now it’s with mommy’s make up, skirts, high heels and, you know, stuff I just don’t seem to get to wear much, anymore – and it was all I could do, to keep from pulling over to the side of the road, tear into the box of tissues and wipe about 3 years off her face!

    "I don’t get it…Moooooom…why does it matter what I wear and what do ya’ mean in school, it’s different…I thought you liked us to be, you know, NOT like everyone else!?!"

    OUCH!…did you see that?…I think some sort of rabid parenting advice just bit me in the butt!!

    "Yes, but…I mean…NO…uh…here’s the thing…I just want you to be aware, that…you know…people are going to notice you."

    I mean, Thing One has always been my quiet little thinker – you know, content with staying home and writing poems, or poking her nose in a book and discussing world peace with her mother – and never would have I considered her attracting anyone’s attention…especially, in school…to be so important, all of a sudden, I don’t know.
    I guess, I just wasn’t ready.

    "Uh, no…8th GRADE!"

    Later, I was annoyed that the boy didn’t seem bothered, or even cared to acknowledge the fact that I just may be the chicks MUH-THUH, and looked right passed me, but thought that the teenage delinquent DID look a little scared and it may have been my answering his question, through tightly clenched teeth.
    [rings up mousse]
    And I was having a really bad hair day, too!
    [looks over cash register and smiles brightly]

    "Aaaaand…what time does the middle school get out?"

    …to be continued

  • It takes a tough woman to render men, chicken – Part I

    When our oldest daughter was born, my husband and I thought we were ready for anything, and everything, there was to know about raising girls and – though, I still don’t understand how it can be almost 14 years, already – today, I can say that I am truly certain of only one thing.

    [cracks knuckles and striking a defensive pose]

    That if her father ever does decide to allow her to date, before her 21st birthday, Thing One is lucky!

    "Please, please, please…Momma…you can NOT tell Daddy!"

    Here’s the thing – being raised in a very strict household and by European parents, who were accustomed to their children’s unquestioning faith in their decisions, no matter how medieval – I swore, that my kids would NEVER be afraid to talk to their mother, or father, about anything.
    I was wrong.

    "OKAY…relax, already…I won’t tell him!"

    [slams front door and runs straight for the phone]

    "What happened?"

    I doubt that her sister – she’s nearly 12 – will be getting much dating advice, either.

    "Oh, let’s just say that she never realized shopping for school supplies could be sooooo exciting."

    Honestly, could her 8th grade teachers have handed out their supply lists…in a more timely fashion…or, at the very least…at the same time? There’s another list coming home, tomorrow and perhaps one more, by Monday.  I hope.
    But, that’s me and NOT what my daughter’s excited about.

    "What do you mean?"

    It was obvious, judging by my off-beat smile – you know, the one that screams LET’S NOT GO THERE – I was NOT in the mood to be any less cryptic, okay.

    "Never mind, you don’t have to tell me."

    She ran after her sister, instead.

    "Do I even want to know?"

    My poor husband – he sees, as well as I do, how quickly they’re growing and already knows how we’ve become an embarrassment to our children – he should be scared.

    "Our baby just got hit on at the drug store!"

    [eyes go wide]

    "By who?"

    And I bit my lower lip to keep from screaming.

    "By the kid behind the counter with the GIANT hicky on his neck!"

    …to be continued

  • Summer Vacation: Hump Day Diddy Dumbs – And she’s climbing a stairway to 7 minutes in heaven – Day 30

    Though, I don’t know if I believe in angels, I am pretty sure
    there’s a special place – especially, reserved for tired and wigged-out
    old mommies and daddies, like us – and perhaps most parents would
    agree. After years of raising kids and killer dust bunnies, it’s sort
    of, you know, hard to find the magic.

    [wink, wink]

    You know what I’m saying?

    [nudge, nudge]

    Say no more.

    Warninglabel_2

    Are they gone, yet?

    Okay – we don’t want to scare the straights, or anything – but,
    here’s the thing, my husband and I are coming up on our 17th wedding
    anniversary (next month) and, I have to say, intimacy isn’t an issue
    and there are times when we’re both surprised at how, you know,
    enthusiastic we can get.

    Timing, however, has NEVER been on our side and – having four
    rugrats running up and down our nerves, all day – we’ve learned never
    to take a good old fashioned “quickie” for granted, either!

    To hell with seven minutes in heaven…give us at least five…and we’re good.

    But, there are those moments — you know, when kids are in bed, the
    dishes are done, the cats and dog are down and the moon’s alignment
    with the shifting tides coincides with our moods — when time and
    space seems to stop and we have the best gosh-darned meeting of the
    mine and his, EVUH!

    Now, about last night.

    [Just so you know, here’s where you should click away, Mom!]

    Is she gone – can’t say I didn’t warn her, right!?!?

    My SIL was due in, this morning (shhh…she’s upstairs, asleep) and
    Little Man has graciously agreed to give up his room, next to ours, for
    his favorite Aunt and it has been a while since we, you know, did I mention she’d be sleeping in the room…right…next…to ours!?!

    "Are the kids down?"

    [giggle]

    "Yes…FINALLY!"

    I mean, it was well passed 11 and, after having waited a good hour,
    we turned out the lights, climbed the stairway, kicked the cats off the
    bed, shut the door, made sure to lock the dog out and found a little
    piece of heaven.

    Until.

    KNOCK…KNOCK…KNOCK!!!

    [gasping for breath]

    "WHAT…YES…WHO IS IT…WHAT’S WRONG!?!"

    Honest and true, we just replaced the batteries in the fire alarms
    and I really didn’t think the house was hit by lightening, or anything.

    "It’s me, Thing Two…and Mini-me…we couldn’t
    sleep…so, we went to the couch…and heard some really weird
    noises…so, we came upstairs…and…and…all we heard is
    this…OOOOH….UUUUH….OOOOH!"

    Silence.

    KNOCK…KNOCK…KNOCK!!!

    Busted.

    "IS MOMMY ALRIGHT!?!?"

    No, I wasn’t.

    "Duh…um…the air-conditioner…duh…loud…um…the thunder….duh."

    In fact, I was absolutely dumbstruck and shocked beyond words,
    actually and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen my husband so calm,
    collected and get dressed so fast, in all our years together!

    "Yes, she’s fine…I was just tickling her and she was laughing so hard, she almost puked!"

    Silence.

    "You’re scaring us, Mommy!"

    Heaven knows, they are NOT alone.

    "I’ve been on a plane since 10:30 last night and you guys look more tired, than I do!"

    My SIL surprised us early this morning and all I could think about
    was – besides, cleaning the shmootz out of my eyes, opening the front
    door and body slamming the dog – thank goodness I had on clean, you
    know, pajamas!

    "Thing Two and me couldn’t sweep, because Mommy was noisy and woke-did us up wike, ooooh…uuuuh…ooooh!"

    Silence.

    "Soooo…I’m guessing I’ll be sleeping on the living room couch with Doofus-dog, after all and…um…EWWW!?!?"

    [hangs head in shame]

    To think, I thought her playing Led Zeppelin backwards sounded weird!

    [ducks to avoid lightning bolt]

    If anyone needs us, I’ll be upstairs dusting off the child safety
    gates and sound-proofing my room, while my husband reintroduces himself
    to, you know, taking cold showers!

  • Summer Vacation: As nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs – Day 28

    Thing Two had her 11-year-well-visit, today – okay, so we’re 6
    months late, again – and I guess the main reason we’ve been putting it
    off so long is…

    [shivers]

    I absolutely HATE needles.

    [burps in mouth, a little]

    .
    Always have, always will.

    Taking my kids for their shots is never easy and I think most
    parents would tend to agree with me on this point (no pun intended)
    but, insisting that they go through something as traumatic and
    unpleasant as, GULP, getting a shot in the arm with a very sharp
    object…well, it’s painful!

    Taking care of sick parents…sucks wet poodle.

    Last week, I called my folks and offered to take my father for the
    second round of his pain management shots and I swear, you could hear a
    pin drop.

    Hello?

    "Uh…no…um…nuh-uh…that’s okay, you don’t have to come…really…we’ll be fine."

    It’s not that they didn’t want me to be there, or anything.

    "Besides, you have your hands full, already!"

    After all, I did live with them for 25 years – they know.

    "We can handle it, this time, without you and don’t want you to worry."

    Too late – they had me at "handle it" and "without you" – basically, my nerves are shot.

    "How are your parents?"

    GAH!

    The pediatrician was swabbing one of Thing Two’s arms and – after my
    daughter asked that we try and distract her from the shots and talk
    about, you know, something else – she spoke and I nearly fell out of my
    chair and peed my pants, a little.

    What – appliances are exploding all around me and even the smallest things are setting my world on fire – I’m a little tense, okay!?!

    "Oh…well, they’re…um…they’re haaaaaaang…ing…in…HOLY CATS!"

    I grabbed Thing Two’s hand in both of mine, put my forehead against hers and closed my eyes.

    "Don’t look, baby!"

    One alligator, two alligators, three alligators…

    "Done!"

    …four alligators…five alligators…

    "Mrs. Thompson?"

    I motioned with my hand for her to give me a second, or two.

    "There…that wasn’t too bad…good job, sweetie!"

    [eyes go wide]

    "No, but now my hand hurts like crazy!"

    I’m telling you, it’s amazing – what a good few seconds of
    absolutely nothing, will do for a person like, you know, me – and I
    felt really, you know, good.

    "Okay, one down and three more to go!"

    [burp]

    Actually, Thing Two decided to get two of her shots now and the other two, later.

    "No problem, I can always bring her back during Mini-me’s well-visit, next week."

    [eyes go wide]

    "NO…uh, I mean…that won’t be necessary…they can
    wait a month or, at this point, even two, perhaps it would be better,
    Mrs. Thompson."

    My sister-in-law is coming home from Arizona — YAY! — and moving
    in with us, for a while; my parents are planning one last trip to
    Hungary, last minute (of course) and I’ve got the BlogHer conference to get ready for in…um…HOLY CATS…less than two weeks!

    Let me think.

    "OKAY!"

    To think, I’ve only been passing out in her chair for 6 years, or so, give or take a hypodermic.

    "You and your kids are so funny…I still remember
    how the three of you first came to me…before Mini-me was born, I
    mean…and how you all cried after Little Man got his shots!"

    Still – most people would probably be surprised to learn just how
    nervous I can get, especially about traveling and having to meet new
    people, ALONE – it’s always nice when people remind me to, you know,
    chill out and get over myself.

    "We ARE still babysitting for you, right?"

    [eyes go wide]

    "NO…uh…thanks guys…but, um…I mean, your calendar’s full of doctor appointments…and there’s your trip to get ready for…and everything."

    One alligator…two alligators…three alligators…
    .
    Morale of the story:   Don’t let the awkward silence worry you too much, it’s those nasty mommy glares – you know, the kind that says, "Die, you over-breeding little twit," and then sets your hair on fire – are the ones we all should learn to watch out for!

    [shiver]

    Don’t worry, I’ll be fine – it’s bound to grow back, sometime – in
    the meantime, please feel free to stay a while, clean off a chair and
    mind the killer dust bunnies.

    If anyone needs me, I’ll be upstairs….cleaning out the closets and cursing my wardrobe!

  • Summer Vacation: On bad luck, superstition and being scared half to death, twice – Day 25

    Deathmask

    […exercising a vested interest in spawning fear since 1993]

    Having been raised in a very superstitious household – where spilled
    salt and broken mirrors were considered unfavorable signs of bad things
    to come – and being a very clumsy child, I was a cause of deep concern
    for my family and often times found myself the subject to one of my
    grandmother’s homemade remedies, or lucky charms.

    Did they work?

    Depends on who you ask – especially, whenever things finally went
    right – my grandmother swears it did and growing up, I was scared to
    death that lightening would strike and somehow I would be blamed.

    And then, it did – twice – and now, I’ve got both my husband and poor mother-in-law scared to death!

    You see, she reads my blog – hi mom, how’s it hanging? – and my
    husband is simply horrified by the fact that I might, you know, write
    about something that his mother may NOT necessarily care to know, or
    read about.

    SNORT.

    Like, she raised five children and has babysat ALL four of
    our children on numerous occasions. I mean, my kids can’t wait to tell
    grandma, "Our house almost burned down" and "The car almost broke," or,
    "Guess what Mommy did?" and give me up…all…the…time.

    Trust me, she knows.

    "Are you recovered, yet?"

    My husband got home from work and I had just finished chasing my
    husband into the pool – he was in a terrible mood and needed to soak
    his cranky butt, badly – when my mother-in-law called, as I was
    finishing dinner.

    "Um…from which thing?"

    I mean, seriously.

    "Oh, I’m sorry, the thing with the lightening, losing power and everything."

    See, she knows.

    "Oh, that…yeah, how weird was that?"

    Silence.

    "We want to come over and hear all about it – when would be a good time?"

    Wait a minute.

    "Uh…well, it’s almost seven…and we’re almost ready to have dinner…so, I guess in an hour?"

    My in-laws almost NEVER do anything, without consulting their
    calendar, or calling, well in advance and – since I am considering
    changing my first name to, last minute – this was a most welcome and
    refreshing change of events.

    "We’ll be there in an hour-and-a-half, then."

    Good, just enough time for me to fumigate the house (stupid cat) light some candles (stupid dog) and hide the laundry!

    "How are you feeling, today?"

    Okay, this time, my husband looked just as confused as, you know, I can get.

    [shrugs]

    "Fine…uh, mom…why?"

    Uh-oh.

    "Well, we heard what happened to you…and thought
    we’d call and come right over…and wanted to see if you were, you
    know, okay."

    You smell something?

    "No, I’m fine, lightening either hit the branch, or close enough to fry the circuits and cause it to lose power."

    Because, judging by the way my mother-in-law was looking at me, I swear my hair’s on fire!

    "By the way, how did you know?"

    [shrugs]

    "I read it on HER blog!"

    [biting lower lip]

    "I didn’t say…I mean…I DID say that he came
    home…I guess it sounded, you know, a lot worse, huh?…I mean…did I
    mention I made him Grape Nut Pudding!?!"

    Morale of the story: be careful what you blog, it could get you
    fired – or, scare your mother-in-law half to death and cause you to
    burst into flames and wish you were hit by lightening, twice.

    Lucky for me, technically, I don’t work and we’re not related.

    Stupid blog!

  • The Power of Blogging: A Shout out to all BlogHers, Blog Spotters, Lurkers, Maya’s Mom and anyone else who’s willing to take a stand for charity!

    I’ve got a lemonade stand to pick, with you!

    Sunkist is calling all kids (7 to 12 years of age) to "Take a Stand"
    for their favorite charity and is offering over 10,000 lemonade stand
    kits free (while supplies last) in it’s 3rd year of inspiring children
    to give back to their community.

    Take a Stand Day – to
    squeeze more fun into lemonade stand season, Sunkist is encouraging
    kids to jump-start lemonade sales in conjunction with the first-ever
    “Take a Stand Day” set for Thursday, June 21st and through the first weekend of summer.

    The kids and I have volunteered to "take a stand" and we will donate all the proceeds from our This Full House challenge for Sunkist to our local chapter of Big Brothers and Big Sisters.

    My kids have ALWAYS wanted to run their very own lemonade stand and
    now, with the help of the good folks over at Sunkist, we can give a
    little back to the blogosphere, as well.

    This Full House will donate an additional $1.00 per comment
    left on this post (say hello, wish us luck, or just pucker up and send
    us a kiss) and give away 4 lemonade stands to bloggers who wish to join
    in on the fun. Comments will be open until Monday 3:00 p.m. and the
    winners will be randomly picked by Mini-Me [pictured below] who will be moving to "the other hand" and turning 6, tomorrow!

    Minigraduate

    My littlest rugrat is also an official "grader" after graduating kindergarten, yesterday – Happy Birthday, muffin!

    The recipients of the lemonade stands will be picked on Monday, June
    18th, which just so happens to be the last day of school…can I get a
    YEEHAW!?!

    Please feel free to wish Mini-Me a Happy Birthday, tell a few friends, use your blogging super powers to pass the word and help This Full House of loose change and lost socks start off the summer with a big CHA-CHING!

    Go ahead, make our day – let’s prove to "the man" that there is
    power in the blogging world (no matter how small) and that it is good –
    and help a little brother and sister enjoy their summer.

    What do you have to lose?

    I promise, there’s nothing under the cushions – it’s not like I’m
    getting paid for this, or anytime soon, or anything – ’cause tomorrow
    really is Mini-Me’s birthday…and people are coming over…so, I had no other choice but to, you know, clean house!

  • Hump Day Diddy Dumbs – In praise of a middle child, sort of…

    When Thing One was born, my husband and I couldn’t wait to bring her
    home and welcomed our new roles, as mother and father to our brand new
    baby daughter, celebrating each milestone of "firsts" with equal
    amounts of enthusiasm and trepidation.

    Then, I became pregnant with Thing Two and – though, I couldn’t wait and called my husband…at work…and
    gave him the results of the pregnancy test…while in the middle of a
    meeting with a client…because, I am all about informality – I was
    surprised to feel a bit worried about whether or not I was ready to
    separate myself from being the world to Thing One and not knowing
    exactly how I was going to manage sharing, well, pretty much everything
    else with TWO babies!?!

    Then Thing Two was born and…WHAM!…things like colic, irritable
    bowel and projectile vomiting became standards in our vocabulary, as we
    spent the next 8 months sleepwalking and it was obvious, right from the
    start, that there was no comparison.

    "I can’t seem to be able to make her happy and I’m afraid that this child will grow up to hate me!"

    I cried – along with Thing Two – nearly every night and tried
    everything that any doctor, lawyer, Indian chief and even my MIL
    suggested that I simply strap the child into the stroller, or car seat
    and just go with it.

    I did and it worked.

    Soon, she (and I) grew used to needing very little sleep and spent
    the next couple of months, together – watching Barney, Pooh Bear, or
    any blessed video that would give us, along the rest of the house, a
    little peace – and sort of getting reacquainted, with each other.

    Then, Little Man came along and Thing Two adored her new baby
    brother and I was surprised at how quickly she adjusted to her new role
    as "big sister."

    Middle child, not so much.

    "I can’t seem to be able to make her happy and I’m afraid that this child will grow up to hate me!"

    After all, at 2 1/2 years old, she wasn’t even out of diapers yet and I cried on her first day of nursery school – she did NOT.

    "Gotta kiss for Momma?"

    She ran right for the play kitchen set, and started pushing a
    shopping cart, and I just shook my head and waved, as her teacher tried
    to coax her back.

    "That’s okay – she knows Momma’s busy with the baby
    and her big sister is just down the hall, too – have fun and I love
    you, baby!"

    She did.

    I remember rushing around and barely making it to her preschool
    graduation, because the next day, her baby sister (child #4) was
    scheduled to arrive – though, at this point, she and I had learned to
    pretty much go with the flow – Thing Two would always be the middle
    girl.

    Thingtwograd

    "I can’t seem to be able to stop thinking about when you were little and how much you’ve grown!"

    Thing Two – my middle girl – is graduating 5th grade, today.

    "I can’t believe you’re going to middle school, already."

    Thingtwograd2

    She’s smart, confident, beautiful and has a wicked sense of humor –
    especially, when things around here can get a little, you know, sticky
    – we’ve grown to refer to Thing Two as our family’s little peacemaker.

    "It’s okay – Thing One told me a lot of stuff and
    showed me around, already – now, you’ll have two of us to worry about
    and I’m sure I will have fun getting into lots of trouble and making
    YOU mad."

    [snort]

    "Am I really that terrible of a mother?"

    She shook her head and sort of, smiled.

    "Nah, you’re kind of somewhere, you know, in between."

    I love you too, baby.

  • A glance into the world of higher thinking and dirty fingernails.

    Tea_yummies

    My 8-year-old son’s 2nd grade class hosted a tea and poetry reading,
    Friday afternoon, that the children have been preparing for, for weeks,
    and were put to task with having to create their own invitations, for
    up to 3 people.

    It was very cute and I would love to be able to share it with you,
    only, I can’t. Because, I gave it to his grandparents and forgot to
    take a picture of it – not to mention, show his father – but, I thought
    that perhaps my parents would enjoy the handwritten envelope marked "By invitation only" and "To Mama and Papa, pleeeeease, come!" and I hand delivered it, personally.

    "No, you keep it…really…I’ve got tons just like it, at home, already!"

    I work from home – yes, it’s a perk – so, I was an obvious 1st
    choice on his guest list and the poor kid agonized, for days, over
    which of his grandparents to invite.

    "I chose Mama and Papa, well, because I told a lot about them to my teacher, already."

    Little Man’s teacher is Ukranian and – being that my parents are Hungarian – well, you know, we are practically kissing cousins, afterall.

    "Are these the grandparents who inspire you in your love of history?"

    His teacher was being very gracious.

    "Yes, and he’s the one who was almost shot in the haystack!"

    The boy (and his sisters) really does enjoy listening to my father
    tell of life in "the old country" – especially, having narrowly escaped
    it, with his life – and Little Man’s teacher often allows him to repeat
    the stories to his class and has also included my parents into his
    history projects. Like, his oral report on on Dwight D. Eisenhower:

    "If it wasn’t for people like him, President
    Roosevelt and Winston Churchill, my Mama and Papa would probably not be
    here, or been able to escape from the bloody communists!"

    Yes, Papa’s history lessons can be quite…um…graphic and filled
    with colorful language and, quite frankly, I was a bit nervous to hear
    my son’s choice of poem, you know, that he finds…GULP…inspiring.

    Little_man_read

    He did great!

    What?

    Oh, the poem…um…well, I don’t remember what the title was –
    because, I was too busy worrying about whether or not I remembered to
    charge the stupid camera’s battery, okay! – and then I noticed the dirt
    under my fingernails!

    Stupid weeds.

    "Wonderful to meet you, finally, and thank you for sharing your stories!"

    My son and I are going to miss her and – although, she is Little
    Man’s favorite teacher and this has been his best year – all that
    homework…not so much!

    "I just like to tell my grandchildren, like it is, straight from my heart."

    She glanced over at me, but I just smiled and hid my hands in my skirt pockets.

    "Not many American children are exposed to such
    worldly thought, or understand history as much as Little Man does, and
    thank you, very much, for sharing him, with us."

    I was overcome.

    "Did you know that European women don’t shave their legs!?!"

    [eyes go wide]

    "But, my mom does."

    [glancing down]

    "I think."

    Little_man_tea

    Yep, the boy is a piece of work.

    The_tea_party

    Just like his Papa.

    Although, he and my mom haven’t been feeling very well, these days –
    they do look great, though, don’t they and yes, that’s Mini-me, she was allowed to sign out of her class to join us and she is wearing her "Brother for Sale" t-shirt, appropriately enough – I understand that having grandkids can be pretty good medicine.

    I agree, just not yet!

    I’m looking forward to watching him (and the rest of my gang) grow
    to be, well, very smart and well-versed in the world of higher
    thinking…and yet…surprisingly very down to earth and a bit hairy,
    like their mother!