This Full House Archive

Category: School Daze

  • And You Thought Soccer Moms Where Bad

    IGKYA
    My husband, Garth (not his real name) and I were thrilled to learn that our son joined the middle school wrestling team for a couple of reasons:

    • He's got 3 sisters
    • It gets him out of the house and away from me and his 3 sisters (okay, mostly me!)
    • He's been a big WWE fan since the 4th grade (I think!)
    • No tryouts (i.e. everyone makes the team!)
    • Refer to first two bullets, above

    Watching some other kid try and kick the living Axe out of my son, not so much.

    "Isn't that your son?"

    [cringe]

    "I'm not sure."

    Because, I was too busy covering my eyes and, well, cheese and rice, but I thought soccer was bad.

    Until, the other team gets a point.

    "Yep, that's him."

    The boy tries really hard and I tend to wonder if maybe I should be a little more aggressive in cheering him on, like soccer?

    "OUCH, you see how that kid's head bounced off the mat!"

    Wrestling, however, is much different.

    "Throw him down!"

    I'm not saying that wrestling parents are any better, or worse, than other sports families.

    "Throw him down…HARD!"

    It's just not the same, you know?

    "OUCH, that must of hurt!"

    So, I unlaced my fingers, pulled my hands away from my face, waited the few seconds for my eyes to adjust and realized…yep…it was indeed my son's head they were all waiting for to, you know, explode.

    "Get outta there!"

    I had my youngest on my lap and felt her startle a bit at, you know, my finally finding my voice (me, too!)

    "Like a wiggle worm, bud!"

    [eyes go wide]

    And, my friend, sitting next to me, punched me in my arm…HARD…and, you know, it hurt.

    "Are you trying to get your son beat up?"

    Aaaaand, only when my oldest, sitting on the other side of me, started laughing, did I finally realize that, you know, maybe soccer isn't so bad, after all.

    "….like a bad-assed, rabid, wiggle worm, bud!"

    Or, maybe, next time, I should just stay home and send my husband, instead?

    So, I did.

    "So, how'd it go?"

    Aaaaand, only when my son's frown, turned upside down (whoops, sorry!) I mean, gave the biggest mofo grin, did I realize that, you know, I was totally being faked out.

    "I WON!"

    [eyes go wide]

    Really?  After all these months of my, giving "That's okay," and "Maybe next time," late night, pep talks, driving home from yet another defeat?!?

    "DAMNIT!"

    [cringe]

    "I mean, I'm sorry I wasn't there to see it!"

    This is the last week of wrestling season and I can't say that I'm not a little thrilled to, you know, see it end.

    [cell phone rings]

    Yesterday was their last "home" meet and my friend called to tell me that it ended early (DAMMIT!) and if I wanted her to bring my son home.

    "Did we win?"

    [pause]

    "Uh, no."

    [one beat, two beats]

    "Yes, please!"

    What?  It's not like I forgot to pick my son up, on purpose, or anything, right…oh, and I guess soccer and wrestling are more alike…than I thought…huh?

    [sound of crickets, chirping]

    Stupid sports!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • The Maude Squad

    The Maude Squad
    WHAT?!?  I know.  But, it's been a looooooooooooong, cold, winter and, well, the novelty of playing in the snow has worn off, two storm systems ago, to the point where my two youngest are actually, you know, playing with their Christmas gifts.

    Please understand that I am in no way advocating gun play…for real…my children are old enough to know the difference and, as you can see, they are also wearing protective eye gear.

    Okay, now that we're clear, continue making yourself comfortable and let's talk about sex education.

    [the sound of many doors, slamming]

    Believe me, having had the talk and embarrassing my two oldest children with stories of how my Eastern European-raised parents and I, you know, did NOT talk (about sex, or anything to do with one's body, from the neck, down, I mean) hence, my believing that…OMG!…French kissing WILL get you pregnant…so, yeah, trust me…I know how you feel!

    Personally, I sort of like reinforcing the fact that we, older parental-type units have our hangups, too.

    It's hard, you know?

    On the one hand, I want to be totally open with my children (sort of) then, again, it's hard to decide how much information they really need to hear, or not.  Not to mention, control when, where and who they, you know, hear it from (DAMMIT!)

    So, we were watching The Golden Girls the other night.

    SLAM!

    WHAT?!?  I know.  But, they also enjoy watching the History Channel, along with Broadway musicals on PBS (yes, WITH ME!) and, well, I believe in providing my children with a well-balanced television viewing experience, too (i.e. no iCarly…EVER!)

    "What's impotent mean?!?"

    Et tu, Golden Girls?

    "Go ask Daddy."

    WHAT?!?  I already had the talk…twice…YES!…with my son, too! 

    It's time my husband, Garth (not his real name) ponied up a little help from his end of the gene pool, too.

    His explanation?

    "You know how what happens sometimes when you first wake up in the morning?"

    Oh, wait, this IS gonna be good!

    "Well, when a person is impotent, it sometimes doesn't happen, anymore."

    [eyes go wide]

    "You mean…THEY CAN'T PEE ANYMORE?!?"

    SNORT!

    Yes, I mean, NO, I explained it a little better (I think!) after I stopped laughing, long enough to blow my nose, compose myself and, you know, speak, of course!

    "Mommy, what's impotent mean?"

    My 9 year-old daughter, not so much.

    "Something we can talk about…later!"

    WHAT?!?  It does NOT get any easier.  I mean, seriously, they don't start teaching sex education until the 5th grade and, well, she IS my youngest and probably knows way more than I do, already.

    [sound of crickets chirping]

    Wonder what's on Biography, tonight?

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Parenting Tip #13,100,785:
    Anything Boys Can Do, Girls Can Do Better!
    Unless You Live in Our House
    Or, Happen to Play the Clarinet!

    TFH Kids Cook

    Hey, look, finally, a post that has absolutely NOTHING to do with the weather (anyone mentions anything about snow and the ground hog gets it!) however, I will say that we're each getting a little sick (and tired) of all the closeness, around here.

    "Girls go to college to get more knowledge!"

    Especially, my two youngest children.

    "But, boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider!"

    See what I mean?

    "That's not right!"

    Thank goodness, the two oldest girls have my back.

    "You mean, more stupid!"

    Sort of.

    "Keep it up and ya'll going to Jupiter!"

    Long story, short (you're welcome) at our house, the war of girls vs. boys has been going on for quite some time now and, well, if you ask me, it really doesn't matter (whether you're a boy, or girl, I mean) they're ALL driving me nucking futs, too!

    "Smart Alec said that playing the clarinet is stupid!"

    Et tu minivan? 

    "What did you say?"

    Hope's first choice was to play the flute [cringe] but, I told her maybe the clarinet would be, you know, way cooler, considering there really aren't enough female clarinet players in the world.

    "I told him maybe he should think about playing the clarinet, then!"

    [snort!]

    "How many clarinets does it take to change a light bulb?"

    Either way, it just occurred to me, that I forgot to ask what instrument Smart Alec plays.

    "Clarinets don't have light bulbs, STUPID!"

    Then again, I guess it really doesn't matter.

    "Hey, you just passed our house!"

    Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala.

    "Where are you taking us, Mom?

    [blows bangs out of eyes]

    "Next stop….JUPITER!"

    Stupid ground hog!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Cloudy With a Chance of Snowballs

    Passed the Nose on My Face

    I love snow [ducks to avoid flying snowballs] working up enough courage to actually get behind the wheel of a car and driving in it, not so much!

    I got into my first and only car wreck [knocking on wood until knuckles bleed] while driving home from work…in a snow storm.

    It was bad; my body hurts just thinking about it.

    I was only 20 and, well, let's just say I've spent the last 20-something years, doing my best to avoid, having to drive…in the snow.

    Until, I had children.

    My kids don't like to walk, anywhere (I think it's a law, or something) partly, because we live in an area where the ratio between accessible sidewalks to the actual number of cars on the road is equal to the proportion of the accumulated snowfall.

    In other words, no one shovels their gosh-darned sidewalks, anymore, DAGNABIT!

    "Can I stay home, today?"

    [frown]

    "Yes…WAIT…I mean, NO!"

    I fear for my middle girl.  She attends a specialized high school 25 miles away from home and, well, her bus travels some of the craziest roads known to the Jersey Shore as…THE PARKWAY!!!

    [shiver]

    "Sorry, kiddo, but you have finals, today!"

    Aaaaand, she was out sick, yesterday, already, DAGNABIT!!!

    "Can you pick me up from school, today?"

    [bites lower lip]

    "Um, NO!"

    What?  This particular kid also takes a bus and, well, who am I to deny someone a chance to do their job, right?

    "Can you pick me up from school, today?"

    [heavy sigh]

    "Uh, NO!"

    What?  Aaaand, this kid can literally spit from our house to the school, we live THAT close.

    "Now, remember, if the snow gets really, really bad, mommy's gonna park the car down the street and we're gonna walk home, okay?"

    [eyes go wide]

    "ALL THE WAY FROM SCHOOL?!?"

    YES!  Because, there's a wooded path leading from this kid's school, to the adjacent neighborhood and, well, I fear THAT parking lot, the most!

    "It'll be an adventure!"

    Besides, we're supposed to get like, 10 inches and I've abandoned cars, for less.

    "…so, our area can expect a light dusting to no accumulation…until, tonight."

    PHEW!

    [looks out the window]

    BALLS!

    Guess what?  The weather dudes were wrong (GASP!) I spun out in the CVS parking lot getting milk on the way home from school this morning and, well, it looks like my kids are walking!

    [pulls up hoodie and blows bangs out of eyes]

    If anyone needs me, I'll be outside, cleaning off my car (for the eleventy-hundrendth time) and pretending like I'm a REAL good stay-at-home mother.

    Stupid Snowmaggedon!!!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Our Minivan, By Any Other Name, Would Smell Like Feet

    Snowmaggedon 2010 Snowhawk
    Gave my minivan a snowhawk the other day and now the rest of the cars in the neighborhood, you know, want one!

    I was cruising The Motherhood the other day and found an interesting article picked from the headlines by Emily (because, she's really smart like that) written by Nick Bunkley of the New York Times entitled, "Mocked as UnCool, The Minivan Rises Again," where he asks the question:

    Could driving a minivan, the ultimate embodiment of the suburban family vehicle, ever be considered cool?

    Didn't you hear?  According to some car makers (rhymes with Schmoyota) we need a little swag-guh put back into our wagon-layden suburban driveways. 

    Me, I'd settle for a quick resurfacing, or a little less snow.

    Whassup with all the labels…can't mom and dad just live and let drive…um…whatever the heck you want?  

    Everything ends up smelling like sour feet, anyway.

    As a longtime 7-passenger vehicle enthusiast (i.e. co-owner of our kids' personal taxi service) I really never understood all the rage against the minivan.

    Until, this morning.

    "Holy crap!"

    10 days post Snowmaggedon and the secondary roads here in Jersey are still cruddy (3 feet make for a lot of snow) to the point where you can't fit 2 minivans on the same street, at 1 time.

    "Move over, you stupid Land Rover!"

    So, I'm playing chicken with my neighbors getting kids to (and from) school.

    "They're not stopping, Mommy!!!"

    Aaaand I feel forced to pullover, once more, and make room for folks driving their flashier cars and not so much because I am passive aggressive like that.

    [waves]

    "You're welcome!"

    You could say I'm also teaching my children that, no matter the situation, or the type of car you drive, you CAN be the bigger person, right?

    "But, she didn't say thank you, Mommy?"

    Then again, there is a reason why I chose Bertha (she's my car) in a lovely shade of suburban assault.

    "That's okay, maybe next time…we won't be so nice!"

    She'll have to try and pass me, after school.

    [pats dashboard]

    "Right, Bertha!"

    Why, yes, I've always named my cars and, honestly, would you mess with a woman named Bertha?

    [sound of crickets chirping]

    Stay-at-home mom, my rear bumper!

    © 2003 – 2011 This FULL House Blog / This FULL House Reviews

  • #Rever10: Friendship

    Reverb10story

    Reverb 10 is an online initiative created by Gwen Bell to reflect on 2010, consider, you know, what's next and, through daily writing prompts, help folks (like me) share their story.

    Since I am ALL about sharing (shuddup Garth, not your real name!) my friend Shannon is doing it and now Diana's joining in (although, the non-conformist in me can't promise to, you know, write daily) I've decided to give it a whirl.

    Today's prompt:  Friendship – How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst?

    I'm NOT very good at asking for stuff.

    Oh, I ask the kids to feed the dog, change the cat litter, pick up the wet towels or take out the garbage, which, admittedly, becomes more of a DEMAND, after asking for the 3rd or 4th time, DAMMIT!

    Asking someone, — specifically, another mom — to please do me a favor, not so much.

    One of my mom friends, which is code for:

    One (or more) of our kids go to school together, we've spent at least one hour (or more) complaining about our kids comparing notes and alcoholic beverages may (or may not) have been involved. 

    Without getting too personal (about her life, NOT mine!) she's had a REALLY sucky year.

    The kind of suckage that leeches its way under your skin, squeezes your heart, melts all the soft squishy parts, rips through your soul and leaves an unidentifiable pile of sludge, in its wake, before the day even begins.

    Comparatively speaking, my life is gooder than good.

    We don't see each other much, anymore — which is the sad truth with most of my mom friends, once my daughters quit girl scouts, or our kids hit middle school — but, her youngest carpools with my youngest and, well, raising kids is real hard.

    Having to raise 4 kids, on her own, sucks hairy donkey balls!

    I got a text from her, this morning, asking me if I could drop her kid off at her mother's house, "If it's not too much trouble."

    My heart squeezed and…YEP…making sure her kid gets home (or wherever he needs to be on any particular day) is the LEAST I could do AND truth be told, sort of a selfish act on my part, as well.

    It.  Makes.  Me.  Feel.  Good.

    [sound of angels singing]

    Then it hit me, right there, in the middle of the elementary school's parking lot, somewhere in between the soft squishy parts, that maybe, juuuuuust maybe, I can learn to ask a friend for a favor AND perhaps make someone ELSE feel good, at the same time, too, right?

    Riiiiight.

    [sound of incoming text]

    "You are the best!!  Can't thank you enough….we are very lucky to have you for a friend!!"

     Stupid soft squishy parts.

    —————————————-

    My OTHER Reverb 10 stories.

    © 2003 – 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping

  • #Reverb10: Appreciate

    Reverb10story

    Reverb 10 is an online initiative created by Gwen Bell to reflect on 2010, consider, you know, what's next and, through daily writing prompts, help folks (like me) share their story.

    Since I am ALL about sharing (shuddup Garth, not your real name!) my friend Shannon is doing it and now Diana's joining in (although, the non-conformist in me can't promise to, you know, write daily) I've decided to give it a whirl.

    Today's prompt:  Appreciate — what’s the one thing you have come to appreciate most in the past year? How do you express gratitude for it?

    This year?  Yeah, it was a tough one.  What…for you, too?  I know.  Right?

    I got a job (for real) then, I lost it (stupid economy!) I know it was only 7 months (seems longer, working nights, while your SigOth works days, really) still, I had a REAL hard time adjusting to civilian life! 

    Know anyone who's hiring?

    [sound of many, many crickets, chirping]

    Then again, there is some good to be found in ALL the suckage.

    My twin brother DID give cancer another asswhoopin' (it really SHOULD learn to just stay down, stupid cancer!) and my dad added another notch on his belt in the battle against heart disease, the bastard (heart disease, NOT my dad!)

    Aaaaand, I have SO MUCH more to be grateful for, I know!

    However, losing someone very dear to me recently has made me take inventory of my own life and, most especially, appreciate those who are closest to my heart.

    Happy Holidaze 2010

    Like, how I could have NEVER gotten through ANY of this, or the previous 20 years, for that matter, if it weren't for my husband, Garth (not his real name) and his way of making even the smallest gesture (like, making the first pot of coffee, or warming up the car and packing the kids lunches, every blessed morning) an act of absolute serenity.

    How do I express gratitude for it?

    I let the dog out, put up a pot of coffee, fed the cat, woke the kids, let in the dog and fed him, unloaded the dishwasher, fed the kids, drove Heather to the bus stop, packed the lunches and then drove Holly to the high school.

    All before 7:30 a.m. this morning.

    [one beat, two beats]

    Okay, okay, so I gave the kids money to buy their lunches and they can pretty much fend for themselves, at breakfast, too.

    Still.

    I am ABSOLUTELY sure that Garth (not his real name) appreciated the break.

    How do I know?

    [grin]

    By appreciating the fact that my time management skills are, you know, FAR superior to his!

    You're welcome.

    —————————————-

    My OTHER Reverb 10 stories.

    © 2003 – 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping

  • Calling Out the Bully

    When I was going to school (you know, the days when television reminded parents what time it is and where their children are) there were four ways in which you dealt with bullies.

    1. Run away (real fast)
    2. Stand your ground (get your butt whipped)
    3. Tell a teacher (then run away, real fast)
    4. Don't bother going back to school.

    Point being, survival instincts kick in sometime around kindergarten graduation, as the proverbial lines are drawn and the definition of social order rapidly declines to a melee of rumors, innuendos and incoherent speculations.

    And that's just the parents!

    If I had a dollar for each time my kids (or I) have lost sleep worrying over some new abuse another kid supposedly discovered, well, we would have afforded to go to Disney, at least once, by now.

    Yeah, I've seen plenty of lockers pasted with "no bully zone" and "just say no to bullying" stickers on the dozen (or so) back-to-school nights my husband and I have attended, over the years and honestly, I still can't help but think…meh…why bother.

    If only it were that easy.

    "Well, I got shot today."

    Then, my son (he's 11) came home from school yesterday and, well, I had the same exact look on my face that you probably have, right now, trust me.

    He pulled his sleeve up, I saw the angry welt (like, maybe someone used a rubber band to fling something sharp, like a paper clip) and I don't remember much after that, really, besides drilling my poor son, like a suspect.

    Then, I sat down and wrote my first email to the principal and when I say first, I mean…ever.

    Long story, short (you're welcome!) his response, less than 5 minutes later, made me feel better about my decision to NOT worry about sounding like "that mom" (for once) or, whether OTHER parents will think that my kid is a wimp (or, not) and just focus on helping my son, you know, do the right thing.

    Call out the bully (in this case, the bullies) make the kid take responsibility for his/her actions (not the parents) and, maybe, just maybe, we can ALL get a little more sleep, for once.

    (P.S. My son met with his principal, by himself, today and, although he admits to feeling "sad about telling on someone," more than I am worried about the other kids seeking retribution, I'm glad that the lines of communication are now, you know, open.)

    (P.P.S. Being verbally harassed on the bus, daily, is typical 7th and 8th grader shenanigans pulled on incoming 6th graders.  Yeah, I get it.  Don't touch my kid.)

    (P.P.P.S. My son's middle school is creating a special number kids can text, when they observe bullying, that goes right to the principal — what a great idea, right?)

    © 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping

     

  • Wordless Wednesday:
    A-Maize-ing

    Hopey Corn Maze 2010 No, you are most certainly NOT almost as tall as the corn…DAMMIT?!?

    Taken with my cell phone.  Imagine what I could do with a REAL camera?  Yeah, I'm looking at you, Garth (not his real name!)

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

    © 2010 This Full House Blog / This Full House Gone Shopping

  • Home is Where Your Drywall Hangs

    TyPennington
    We are ALL major Ty Pennington fans (okay, mostly me) so, last night, the kids and I settled in on the couch and watched the premiere episode of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.

    The design team surprised the Boys Hope/Girls Hope chapters in Baltimore — you can watch it here, if you, you know, feel like having your heart squished.

    "You crying already, Mom?"

    Not even five minutes into the show, man, and I was reaching for the Kleenex.

    Then, Ty let the families know that Girls (and Boys) Hope will be getting full four-year college scholarships (including room, books and board) this time, my kids were reaching for the Kleenex and I think a couple of them even started to cry.

    "Maybe we should apply to be on the show, Mom!"

    Oh, if I had a dollar for each time I wished (out loud) for Ty to come crashing through the drywall, well, it would be nice to actually quit using our garage…as a basement.

    Never mind, worrying about how in the heck we're sending our kids to college.

    "There are A LOT of people who need help more, right Mom?"

    Always.  Still.  It WOULD be nice not to explain that, you know, we don't decorate in early drywall…on purpose. 

    Then, Ty started interviewing the families.

    "We never let my daughter know that we couldn't afford to send her to college."

    I grabbed another tissue and cursed myself (in my head) for not thinking and doing the same thing. 

    Oh, it's NOT like we're going around saying stuff like:

    Heather:  "I want to go to Boston University."
    Holly:  "I'd like to go to Italy and study art."
    Glen:  "I want to go to Rutgers."
    "Me:  Well you can ALL just FUHGHETABOUTIT!"

    But, practically speaking:

    Me:  "That WOULD be nice, maybe, I dunno, we'll see."

    Then, my youngest (she's 9) snuggled in closer.

    "Well, I love my home."

    [bites lower lip]

    "I think our house is perfect for us, right mommy?"

    [squish]

    I do now.  And, if I didn't, I certainly would NOT say it (out loud) not anymore.

    "You need 'nother tissue, Mom?"

    Hang the drywall, stupid economy!

    © 2010 This
    Full House Blog     / This Full House Gone Shopping