This Full House Archive

Category: Sick Days and Mondays Always Get Me Down

Ghosts of Thanksgiving Past

Bud and Pam's 1st Thanksgiving 2008

Over the years, I've grown accustomed to having family over for the holidays and, as the kids get older, I find myself worrying less about the table setting (nope, it doesn't match) or, the food preparation (yes, some of it comes out of a can) not to mention, I don't bother too much about making lists, anymore (seriously?) or, worry whether I've managed to hunt down each and every dust bunny (they're sort of like pets, really and I've even named a few) or not.

Because, no matter how my husband, Garth [not his real name] and I try, we've come to accept the simple fact that, with a family as big as ours (direct and extended) somethings just don't go right and, before you can say, "Pass the potatoes," someone's puking all over your nice, clean and shiny floors.

Last year?

I pretty much insisted that I would not mind it, in the least, if my brother and his wife, you know, did Thanksgiving.

Because, in our house, it isn't the holidays unless someone in the family is sick or is scheduled for a surgical procedure, like tomorrow.

This year?

Although, my middle girl, Heather (she's 13) is STILL dealing with the same danged creeping crud (WAY better than I have, I might add) it seems to have gone into hibernation.

[knocking on wood until knuckles bleed]

So, the rest of my kids are getting used to learning how to share, rather than compete, for our attention (unfortunately, these days, everything is viral) and my parents, well, they're getting older, too.

Each year, we get to spend together, however difficult, unplanned, or imperfect, IS a gift.

All things considered, along with a few things I haven't bothered to mention (you're welcome) I am very thankful that this passed year wasn't, you know, any worse.

This week?

My brother got some really bad news (cancer can #suckit) and then, with the help of some of our closest Internet friends (yeah, I'm surprised that he friended me on Facebook, too) my brother gave cancer a BIG old-fashioned Jersey bitch-slap, it deserves.

HOOAH!

Although, we probably won't be able to see him and my SIL on Thursday (stupid cancer) I am thankful to know that they are, at least, you know, within spitting distance.

[hocks-a-loogie]

Today?

I'm pretty much ready to take back Thanksgiving and
make that bitch mine.

"Strep test came back negative, but there's a lot of puss on his tonsils and, well, it could be mono."

Glen is home with…um…something…so, we're waiting and hoping his fever breaks, before Thursday and well, just remember to call first, okay?

"Mom, it's up to 103!!!"

Um…OH!…look over there!

[sniff-sniff]

"Are we still having Thanksgiving?"

Did you happen to notice my nice shiny clean floors?

"Oh yes, there WILL be turkey, dammit!!!"

[hocks-a-loogie]

Have a Happy Thanksgiving — or a reasonable facsimile, thereof.

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.

November 24, 2009
Classic This Full House: I don’t think early Native Americans even ate salty corn chips or spoke like Scooby Doo, did they!?!

In kindergarten, I used to call her Mini-me!

I'm starting my new job, today (YIKES!) and, well, Garth [not his real name] took the day off and, since the kids had him last Thursday and Friday, too (love when he surprises us, like that) today, I get to keep him all to myself!!!

Until, I have to go to work…wait, it's been 16 years…let me just say that again:

I HAVE TO GO TO WORK (like, leave the house and get paid real money) I mean!

So, I've been cleaning out my archives (since, it's easier than switching out the drawers and closets, really) and invite you to share in a Classic This Full House (from when Hope was in kindergarten) and, well, it's sort of comforting to know that not much has changed.

Except, I use my youngest daughter's real name (she asked me to) instead of her blog name (Mini-me) and she's in the…[cough]…3rd grade…[choke]…now!

Okay, and maybe…juuuuuust, maybe…I spell-checked-it a few times, first.

YOU'RE WELCOME!!!

(more…)

November 9, 2009
All I Want for Christmas

In case you're wondering whatever happened to Monday Mornings the Doofus-Dawg?

He's lost in a pile of laundry.

Aaaaanway, I was supposed to start my "real job" today (YAY!) but. they offered to give me an increase to 4 hours, 3 times per week and I took it (more milk money, double-YAY!) but, I don't start until next week (BOO!) and I've got somethin' else to show you.

[grin]

So, feel free to grab a cup of cawfee, or whatever, I'll wait!

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.

November 2, 2009
Monday Morning With Doofus-Dawg: Mama Always DID Like Me Best!

D'oh, Ah loves it when Mama does that…

Mah moms is not heres, right now and…d'oh…excuse me a minute, puh-leeze.

BARK-BARK-WOOF-BARKITY-WOOF-WOOF!

D'oh, sorry 'bout that. Ah hates squirrels. Don't yous? Anyways.
Mah moms is not heres, I think and…um…d'oh yeah…ah remembers now.

[heavy sigh]

Ah loves that pit-cher of me…you know…d'oh, Doofus-Dawg and Mama.

[blank stare]

D'oh,
yeah, ah remembers, now…hers is mah mom's…you know…dad and …d'oh…that's naught right, either…'cause, everybodies knows dads are lots hairy and gots long ears, like me.

SNORT!

D'oh…aaaaaanyways…so, mah moms wuz out visitin' with her moms and dads on Sundays…uh…ah
think it was yesterdays…d'oh…aaaaaanyhow…hers done took the girls someplace and ah spendid the day…all alones…with mah dads and the boy!

BARK-BARK-WOOF-BARKITY-WOOF-WOOF

Boys rawk, for realz!

[heavy sigh]

Aaaaanyways, mah moms gots home real late, like it was dark and times to goes to sleeps kinda late, for realz.

AH-WHOO!

Mah moms was soooooo tired, hers beated up dads…uh…do'h, that's naught right, either…d'oh, ah know…dad said hers was all beated up.

SNIFF-SNIFF-SCRATCH-SCRATCH!

Moms was upset and ah thinks hers looks awful sad, for realz.

[blank stare]

Do'h, but ah cants understands a word hers and dads spitted up….d'oh, that's naught right, either…they talkdid some see-ree-us stuff bouts Mama and Papa…oh, and mah other favorite human, Uncle Bud and…d'oh…ah just cants seem to make mah moms feels happy, anymores.

[heavy sigh]

D'oh yeah, ah remember now…um…ah gots to tell yous that hers cants comes out to plays, no mores…d'oh…that's naught right, either…'cause, everybodies knows mah moms likes yous, best.

GRRRRRRRRRR

Buuuut, ah knows whats best for hers and, well, hers needs somebodies to throw her a bone, or somethin', is all.

SNIFF-SNIFF-SCRATCH-SCRATCH!

Soooooo, seein as ah ates mine…d'oh…bone, ah mean…ah am goins to chase everybodies away from mah house!

BARK-BARK-WOOF-BARKITY-WOOF-WOOF

Things lots hairy, wif long ears and stupid squirrels, ah mean.

GRRRRRRRRRR

D'oh, oh yah, and have nice Monday…'cause…shee-yah..you can tell it Doofus-Dawg said so.

BARK-BARK-WOOF-BARKITY-WOOF-WOOF

You're welcome!

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.

October 26, 2009
Monday Morning With Doofus-Dawg: Ah Ate an Apple and Ah Liked It!

D'oh, good mornin'…welcome to the dawg house.

Mah mom is not heres, right now and…d'oh…excuse me a minute, puh-leeze.

BARK-BARK-WOOF-BARKITY-WOOF-WOOF!

D'oh, sorry 'bout that. Ah hates some peoples, sometimes. Don't yous? Anyways.
Mah mom is not heres, I think and…um…d'oh yeah…ah remembers now.

[heavy sigh]

Er…rum…ah…nuh…ah's in troubles, again.

[blank stare]

D'oh, yeah, ah remembers, now…ah tried to eat the garbage man…d'oh…that's naught right, either…'cause, everybody knows peoples tastes funny.

SNORT!

D'oh, ah tried to eat the garbage, again…[sneeze]…but, mah mom made it so ah can'ts git to it, anymores.

AH-WHOO!

Stupid child locks — ifs ah only had thumbs.

SNORT!

D'oh…aaaaaanyways…so, when theys wuz out visitin' with Mama and Papa, yesterdays…uh…ah think it was yesterdays…d'oh…aaaaaanyhow…ah was mad theys left me home…all alones…with the stupid catz…AGAIN!.

BARK-BARK-WOOF-BARKITY-WOOF-WOOF

Catz are mean, for realz!

[heavy sigh]

Sooooo, ah ate one of them thar apples mom keeps on the dinin' room tables and, you knows, ahs liked it!

AH-WHOO!

For realz. Theys call it granny fanny…do'h, that's naught right, either…wil smith, maybe…d'oh, ah know…it wuz one of them thar granny smiths and ah like it, lots!

[burp]

Excuse me, puh-leeze.

[pfff-ffft]

D'oh, sorry 'bout that. Ah hates it when apples do that. Don't yous?

SNIFF-SNIFF-SCRATCH-SCRATCH!

Mah mom asked me tell somebody called Marvin…d'oh…that's naught right, either…d'oh, I remember now.

[blank stare]

Carmen…YAH-YAH!…mah mom made a cake…wif apples in it…and said yous wanted some…'cawse yous gots lots of apples at yous house, too…do'h, but ah can'ts come over…right now.

BARK-BARK-WOOF-BARKITY-WOOF-WOOF

Ah gots to keep the stupid peoples away from mah house…d'oh…but, mah mom said you's can haz her peas…do'oh…that's naught right, either…hers said yous can make mom's apple spice cake…and eats it, too!

Here yous goes:

(more…)

October 19, 2009
The House That Streptococcal Built and Other Tales of Bedside Manner

A Self Portrait at Thirteen

At ten, she was diagnosed with strep throat, nine times and was my only kid to have gone through surgery, twice, and well, did I mention she was born on a Wednesday?

"Yes, it's positive, your son has strep throat."

My ten-year-old son, however, is not a very good patient.

"I…[snorf]…hate…[cough]…that…[snorf]…swab…[cough]…thing!"

Me, either.

"Sorry, Mrs. Thompson, but we're all out of lollipops!"

DAMMIT!

"That's okay, our pediatrician is our usual supplier."

However, her office is anywhere from a fifteen minute to half-an-hour car drive away and, well, I decided to take my son down the road to the Doctor's Office, save myself the aggravation of dealing with Friday afternoon traffic and be back in time to pick up my youngest daughter from school.

[phone rings]

DAMMIT! I didn't recognize the number, so I let it go to voicemail (you think that sucks, I understand) but, little did I know, my thirteen-year-old daughter and I were about to bond on a very intimate level.

"There's an emergency!"

Aaaaand, I couldn't be any more surprised if I woke up in the morning with my head sewn to George Clooney's carpet, or something like that.

(more…)

October 13, 2009
Monday Morning with Doofus-Dog: ‘Cawse Dogs Are Perfect, While Parents Are, Well, You Know!

D'oh, hello…mah name is Doofus-dog.

Mommy is not at her desk, right now and…d'oh…she asked me to…uh…excuse me a minute, puh-leeze.

BARK-BARK-WOOF-BARKITY-WOOF-WOOF!

D'oh, sorry 'bout that. Ah hates squirrels. Don't you? Anyways. Mommy is not here, I think and…um…d'oh yeah…ah remember now.

WOOF-WOOF-BARK-WOOFITY-BARK-BARK!

Stupid squirrels!

D'oh, aaaanyways, she's a little under the…um…couch…no, that's naught it…wait, ah remember now…she's under the…uh…wood chipper…d'oh…NO!…she's a little under the weather, that's right…d'oh…whatever that means.

SCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRATCH!

D'oh, hello…wait a minute…do ah know you?

[heavy sigh]

D'oh yeah, ah remember now…um…ah'm supposed to tell you that you can always go visit her at someplace called The Imperfect Dawg…d'oh…that's naught right, either…'cause, everybody knows dawgs are perfect.

SNORT!

D'oh yeah, ah remember now…uh…she done did write something for the Imperfect Parent, today and…d'oh…gots something up at some place called Mamapedia, or something, too.

AH-WHOO!

D'oh, oh yah, and have nice Monday…'cause…shee-yah..you can tell it Doofus-dog said so.

BARK-BARK-WOOF-BARKITY-WOOF-WOOF

You're welcome!

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.

October 5, 2009
Wednesday’s Child
"I made the team!"

Most parents would be very excited, perhaps even a little relieved, to see their child commit themselves to the rigorous mental and physical demands of competitive sports and, ultimately, make it through to the final cut.

[blank stare]

"Did you hear what I said?"

I am not one of those parents.

"Oh yeah, yeah, I'm just, like, wow!"

See what I mean?

"Congratulations, sweetie!"

Of course, I'm happy for her. Like her younger siblings, she's played recreational soccer up until the 6th grade. However, rather than going pro (heh) and playing for the middle school, like most of her friends did, Heather had a hard time finding a comfortable place.

"Did you get a chance to speak to your coach about, you know?"

Then, she got sick and, well, being able to sit comfortably, in class, or excusing yourself, dozens of times during the day, without question, or embarrassment was a blessing.

"Yeah, she's totally cool with it."

I thought about writing a note, explaining the situation to her coach. Even dialed her coach's number, before hanging up and finally deciding that this is perhaps one of those times when life should just be allowed to run its course.

"Are you okay with it?"

Honestly, um, no. Quite frankly, I am scared to death that my child is going to land flat on her ass and, you know, this time, not be able to get up.

"Oh yeah, yeah, I mean, the surgeon said it was, like, okay."

She played her first game, yesterday. They won. 6-0. I survived it. Barely. Still. I'm not looking forward to Thursday for two reasons:
1. She has an appointment with the surgeon to see if her condition (for lack of a better word) requires more surgery.
2. They play the meanest, nastiest field hockey team, ever.
For now, I'm keeping up appearances, like there's absolutely nothing wrong with her playing field hockey, or my suggesting that perhaps it would be a good idea if she wore the protective gear, for the rest of her life, thankyouverymuch.

Later.

"Can I dye my hair red?"

She is the only one of my kids [knocking on wood until knuckles bleed] to have gone through surgery, twice and, as much as I feel awful saying it, it couldn't happen to a tougher child.

"And then could you, you know, dip my ends in black?"

After all, she was born on a Wednesday.

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved
September 23, 2009
Cloudy With a Chance of Niagara Falls

This is what it looks like, when your toilet needs a root canal!

I was 5 months pregnant when we moved into our house and, almost 16 years later, my husband Garth [not his real name] and I still lovingly refer to it as, "our starter home."

"Why don't you just sell it, as is, and move over here?"

My MIL was just being nice. Really, she was. I mean, after all, I've had terrible luck with appliances and our water heater blew up, just last week, which resulted in a mad dash to grandma's for a quick shower…or 6.

Still, I doubt that my FIL is ready to give up the "no waiting" bathroom rule at his house, not just yet, if ever.

"OH SH*T!"

The last time I heard my husband holler like that, well, the water heater blew up and I was all, like, SHUTUP!

"[cough]…Toilet…[wheeze]…water…[gasp]…broken…[cough]"

No, you can't break toilet water — though, in this house, you really never can tell — but, my poor husband had just gotten home from taking himself, along with my two oldest girls, to the doctor's office and finished sending me this text:

"Heather has strep, I've got bronchitis, waiting on Holly's culture…"

To which I promptly texted back:

"Holy Sh*t!"

Honestly, I felt bad for Garth [not his real name] I really did. Still. Having spent the last 6 days with him…home…sick…then, the kids getting sick (again!) well, I just knew it wouldn't be long.

"We're closing in 15 minutes."

I tried to explain to the nice girl manning (or, femaling?) the doctor's office that I had this really important trip coming up, that requires me to be away from home, for a couple of days, alone, without having to pack any soccer cleats, or field hockey sticks, not to mention, making multiple trips to the hardware store, or supermarket, while escorting a bunch of rowdy kids, or a couple of moody teenagers, not to mention, hovering over a cranky husband, while he tries to fix something, AGAIN and, well, MY THROAT HURTS DAMMIT!!!

"Okay, Mrs. Thompson, your culture came back negative."

[eyes go wide]

"Er, given the circumstances at home, I'm going to write out a script, anyway."

No, I would never advocate the overuse of antibiotics. However, this is my house, not yours and well, something's gotta give, sometime.

This week, it's the toilet.

"Oh, and your blood pressure is higher than usual."

Aaaaand, I hear that the west coast is really beautiful this time of year — but, I really don't care — given the circumstances here, at home, I'll be happy just to be able to get away and NOT worry about taking my sweet time in the shower, or use a toilet that works!

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved

September 21, 2009
Batman is Asleep and Wonder Woman Has Her Period, Now What?

Ever have one of those days/weeks/months when, you know, all those good intentions you woke up with (like, admitting that perhaps it's time someone wiped the dog snot off the windows) end up getting flushed right down the toilet, along with the rest of the crap life has handed you, in just one morning?

No, I do NOT resemble, in any way, shape or form, Wonder Woman (damnit) and I don't have my period.

"Thank you, Jesus!!!"

Shuddup, Garth (not his real name!) and go back to sleep.

You see, my husband and I have been handed a plethora of crap, this week (I know, nice visual, you're welcome) gosh, but I hate, Hate, HAte, HATe, HATE IT when life happens, right?

My friend (and fellow Jersey Mom, Vanessa) already admitted that the shower is her secret weapon and I was all, like, yah, me too!

Except, my secret weapon has always been toilet paper.

To prove it, I dug out an old blog post from 2005 (gosh, but it seems like SUCH a long time ago) when I switched from Typepad, to WordPress.com, but now I'm back with Typepad, but not before forgetting to backup and losing all my files (did I mention, I'm a Gemini, oh and a DORK?!?) save for a few on my hard drive.

So, grab yourselves a beverage and step into my mom cave…if you DARE!

(more…)

March 13, 2009