This Full House Archive

Category: Who’s Parenting Who?

  • TGIBF: Stop, look and listen to how I really DO sound like Julie McCoy!

    Well, another Thanksgiving has come and gone and it’s funny, you know – not like ha-ha funny, but a weird sort of aha – it just hit me that, even though I’m glad that the week is finally over, it’s been really, really quiet.

    Shhh, just listen for a minute.

    Thanksgiving2007theboyandme

    This is The Boy – after finding the courage to "volunteer" to dance in front of a whole bunch of, you know, people – this is what a sigh of relief, looks like.

    Thanksgiving2007minime

    This is Mini-me – after admitting that I was indeed her mom, REALLY – this is what accepting independence, looks like.

    Thanksgiving2007girls

    These are my girls – each very different from the other – this is what feeling a genuine sense of pride, looks like.

    But, I was thinking.

    [shudder]

    A dangerous habit for someone with a limited amount of usable cerebral space available, already, I know.

    [shrugs shoulders]

    It’s about time I admitted to myself (as well as the rest of the Internets) that, even though I may grumble at the calendar and growl about how crazy-busy our lives can, you know, get.

    [bites lower lip]

    I really do enjoy playing the role of…um…well, there’s so many to choose from, really, but I guess the best way to describe my current position with the family, at the moment, is…uh…wait…okay, I got it…a plucky cruise director.

    Especially, when it seems that there isn’t a day that something does NOT go
    wrong and I’m just trying to make believe that it’s, you know, all right.

    A motherly version of Love Boat’s Julie McCoy, if you will, except – instead of regaling romantic and funny adventures – we’re dealing with episodes and story lines that…well, if you’re a parent…then, you know.

    [shudder]

    One minute, life is sweet and then…BOOM…the pipes break and a person can’t even flush a toilet without having a backup plan, literally.

    [cue:  Julie McCoy]

    "Your table is ready, captain and there will be 13 joining you for dinner, tomorrow."

    I was filling my husband in about our Thanksgiving plans and – after 17 years of marriage – he IS very well aware of the fact that, you know, I’m the one in charge.

    "Okay, just remember to tell me what to do, what to wear and what NOT to say."

    I know how it sounds – though, both my father and father-in-law happily admit having freely given up their manhood a long time ago – honestly, I don’t believe that these men have ever really learned how to deal with all the noise.

    I am so done with running back and forth – between this house, and that house – that I’ve decided to have Thanksgiving here.

    All the time.

    [collective sigh of…UGH!]

    It’s just easier, you know?

    "Don’t worry, nothing new to report at the moment, just sit back and listen."

    As most families (I hope!) we all have our little issues and interacting during the holidays can get a little, you know, sticky.

    "Well, I’m sorry to hear you feel that way…but…um…HEY!…did I mention that my water broke and that The Boy got up and danced?"

    Well, that got the room quiet.

    "Yes, I even kept the two oldest girls home from school to watch!"

    Funny – yes, like in haha – how FAR people’s mind can wonder.

    "Yes…hahahah…really and they even took pictures."

    Suffice it to say, my family has grown accustomed to my…um…funny ways and everyone pretty much forgot about…well…everything else.

    Minimedecorates

    Mini-me and The Boy got a chance to decorate the tree.

    Theboydecorates

    Putting on all the pretties they collected, or made in school, over the years.

    Garthandminime

    Sharing a quiet moment with the captain and then, they were invited over to my parent’s house for a sleep-over for a couple of days….SWEET!

    Of course, I never DID get a chance to show the relatives the other pictures – you know, sharing in those quiet little moments – and I guess they figure we could probably use some downtime and that pretty much explains why the older girls and I don’t have any plans…at the moment.

    [phone rings]

    Until now.

    "Attention everyone, there’s been a slight change of plans…since, the captain has left for work early this morning and is no longer on board…all remaining passengers are invited to prepare for lunch on the Lido Deck!"

    Time to put it in neutral – on the ONE day I really didn’t plan on getting dressed, in the first place – ’cause I told my family that we will be home for the holidays and now EVERYBODY knows it!

    Black Friday, indeed – you guys ain’t got nothing on me – so, if you’re not doing anything constructive, want to come over and help hide the laundry?

  • I never dreamed that motherhood would be so…um…excuse me…but, what was I saying?

    I asked Thing Two to help me figure out what to get for Thing One’s birthday – because, you know, they talk to each other – so, after we dropped her and The Boy off at a birthday party, yesterday –  for one of Thing One’s best friends, who has a brother, who goes to school with The Boy, and invited him, apparently, their house is in need of some testosterone, too – Thing Two, Mini-me and I headed over to Famous Footwear.

    "I dunno, are you sure?"

    Bearpaw

    Yes, the boots are FABULOUS, but I wanted to be sure that it was what Thing One wanted.

    "I swear…these ARE the same exact ones Thing One pointed out in the flyer, Momma!"

    Still.

    "Try them on!"

    What?

    "I mean, you guys DO wear the same size!"

    Yes, but she’s so much more…you know…grown up and thems are some really, really big shoes to fill!

    Still.

    It seems like only yesterday…

    "What are you doing?"

    I was anxiously awaiting the birth of my first child – boy, or girl, we wanted to be surprised – and I was going through
    a serious phase of cleaning every visible surface of the house.  I had
    the last batch of 3 dozen cookies baking in the oven when my water
    broke.

    "Hanging out and waiting for you."

    Garth (not his real name) came bursting through the
    front door with his tie literally wrapped around his neck and nearly
    fell on his face.  I had my feet curled under me and was reading a book.

    "Want a cookie?"

    Today…..

    I am going through a serious bout
    of indifference and find myself avoiding every visible sign of dust,
    lint, dirty dishes and the never-ending story that is my laundry. Even
    the cats have given up on getting fed and won’t come calling until my
    husband gets home from work. I’ve resorted to purchasing ready-made
    refrigerated cookie dough and haven’t picked up a book in…uh…what day is it, again?

    It seems like only yesterday……

    I napped when she
    napped and I planned my entire day around her feeding, sleeping, bathing and oh, the weather.

    If it was nice, I would take her for a walk in her stroller and enjoy the break away from the solitude and a change of scenery.

    If it was nasty, we would
    sit together for hours and play, read, bake or watch her favorite videos.

    Today…..

    Oh, I’ve grown accustomed to having my day dictated by more than one schedule and, most likely, asking the children to remind me to…well…NOT forget.  But, finding a way to carve out time for
    myself and Garth (not his real name) still eludes me, as much as sleep.  Not for the lack of trying.  But, I just can’t seem to be able to get it together, OR shut it all down.

    Still.

    It seems like only yesterday…..

    I did NOT wake to find an eager
    pair (or, pairs) of eyes waiting to greet me with a kiss.

    “I made
    dis for you. It’s a picture of Mommmmeee dressed like a pwincess
    because you are so boo-e-ful!”

    I didn’t get any Mother’s Days gifts
    made by little hands, with lots of blue crayon and adorably
    misspelled words.

    “Hapee Movers Day. I wuv u Mommy.”

    There were
    days when I was actually bored, lonely, never worried about what time
    it was or, hardly appreciated the therapeutic benefits of a little quiet
    time and a good book.

    "No, because tomorrow is pizza and movie night, but how about we have breakfast for dinner?!?"

    I never dreamed being a mother would be so…excuse me, a moment.

    "Yes, you may borrow my shoes, as long as they get put BACK and in the SAME condition you found them…um…in!"

    I’m sorry, what was I saying?

    3

    Today…..so, my first born baby girl has managed to sneak in another year and turned 14 years-old.  WAIT!  That’s just not right.  I’m still getting used to 13, sort of.

    In a few minutes, she’ll wake and the celebrations will start, for the 14th time.  She’ll be searching for clues and hunting for her birthday presents – no, it shouldn’t be that easy – not to mention, blow out the candles on yet another birthday cake…our 38th as parents, to be exact.

    Happy
    Birthday to my Thing One!

    Thank you for being such a good baby, for allowing me to love you, even when you don’t like me and still finding it in your heart to let me be…well…you know…your everything.

    [rolls eyes]

    No, you may NOT get a tattoo!

    [glances out the window]

    But…um…can I borrow your boots?

  • Soccer/mom bloggers with helicopter parent tendencies, UNITE.

    As defined by Wikipedia:

    A helicopter parent is a term for a person who pays extremely
    close attention to his or her child or children, particularly at
    educational institutions.

    Oh, the humanity…I mean, the nerve of some people…expecting to know and control everything their child eats, drinks, learns and watches…hovering over their children, so.

    That’s what I thought, too – until I had children – and then everything I ever thought I knew about being a good mother sort of, you know, was ripped to shreds on Oprah Winfrey and Dr. Phil.

    Having at least one parent home and available for your kids is good…staying home with them is bad…supporting your children and teaching them to be self-sufficient is good…working outside the home is bad…alpha moms suck…beta moms suck poodle…being a good mom is bad…being a bad mom is good…I mean, wait.

    Spring forward, jump back two spaces…which is it?…I forget.

    So, I was thinking – a dangerous concept for a professional Dork, I know – how about if we (moms AND dads) STOP with all the name calling and goofy monikers (momikers, they call it) and just accept the fact that  – when it comes to raising children – we are ALL a bunch of Dorks!

    In my experience, there’s always someone ready to prove YOU wrong – and then make up a name for your sorry butt – so, why fight it.

    Most likely, it’ll probably be one of YOUR…I mean, MY…d’oh…OUR kids are going to think we sucked at it, anyway!

    [stepping off of soapbox]

    Okay, I admit it.

    [pours another cup of coffee]

    I am a soccer/mom blogger with helicopter parent tendencies – I drive a 7-passenger car and want to know exactly where my kids are and what they are doing, most of the time – but, the whole reason I started this here blog…in the first place…was to be able to hear myself think…since my kids don’t listen to a word I say, anyway!

    I’m not perfect and my kids seem to be okay, anyway.

    "Um…do you know that Mini-Me’s wearing two different cleats?"

    [eyes go wide]

    Fullhousemismatch

    "Well, at least THIS TIME she’s wearing the right shirt."

    Like, a few Saturdays ago, when I mistakenly pulled a green shirt out of the laundry basket (after successfully completing the smell test, of course) and learned that it was actually…um…The Boy’s shirt from two years ago!?!?

    "Her team’s color is green this year, right?"

    Her coach nodded his head and thought it was sort of, you know, funny – he’s GOT kids, after all – but, ask me a few years ago and I would have probably totally wigged-out!

    "Mini-me, stand still so Mommy can take a picture!"

    And died of total embarrassment!

    "You’re going to blog about this, arent’ you?!?"

    You betcha!

    [shrugs shoulders]

    Don’t worry, she knows – mommy bwogs ’cause it makes her feel better – but, to some people I will always be just another DORK!

  • Picture Perfect Thursday: Growing up sucks, it’s all MY fault and how I know!

    Thingonemomwatermarked_2

    I was going through my Flickr photos, yesterday, and adding watermarks (stupid photo stealing trolls)  when I came upon one of my favorite pictures of Thing One and me.  It was taken in the park towards the end of last summer and I think it says a lot about our relationship, at the moment.

    Being elegant, gentle, soft-spoken and a bit shy, by nature (no, not ME!) Thing One was born with a wonderful sense of being able to recognize, understand and empathize with what other people are feeling.  She would make a terrific teacher – not to mention, mother – some day.

    Me?

    Not unlike the picture, my judgment of character pales in comparison and I constantly find myself conflicted on whether or not I’m being accepting, fair, and open-minded enough with my children, or just Jonesing for someone’s approval.

    Growing up in a houseful of crazy Hungarians – I swear, we are an emotionally gifted lot – it was just easier to agree to be a good girl, rather than risk the thought of provoking disapproval and, quite possibly, some sort of physical shame.

    But, this post is NOT about me – or, is it?

    "Where’s Thing One?"

    I’ve already expressed my concern over how I’m having trouble with keeping up on all the changes my kids are going through – more specifically, how they’re growing up so fast and holidays just don’t seem the same anymore – but, decided to split-up and allow the older girls to go trick-or-treating with their friends, this year.

    My friend is a teacher in the high school and seemed to understand.

    "She’s decided to stay home and give out the candy, this year."

    Although, Thing One told her 8th grade friends different.

    "Daddy told me, that once you turn 13, I’m too old to dress up and go out trick-or-treating."

    doG, I was tired, in more ways than I want to go into (you’re welcome) but, we were on our way to pick-up Thing Two, still hadn’t eaten dinner – unless, you count a bag of chips, some pretzels and couple of candy bars raided from the haul brought in by Mini-me and The Boy – and already way late to their grandparents’ house, of course.

    "NO, that’s NOT what he said!"

    Cheese and rice, if anything, we have gone out of our way (read:  said yes, when we really meant "NO freakin’ way would I have been allowed to go to the movies, with a boy!) and I was sick (and tired) of being labeled the "bad parent" who always says "NO!"

    Still, we ARE talking about Thing One – remembering that each kid IS different – so, I tried to soften my tone.

    "Besides, you told me that you didn’t feel like it."

    Knowing, that it quite possibly meant that…you know…no one had asked her, yet.

    "I didn’t want to go."

    Okay, she lost me.

    "I just didn’t want to hurt their feelings and blaming you guys was…um…well…I’m sorry, but… it just seemed…uh…"

    I know.

    "Easier."

    She smiled and nodded her head.

    "I understand."

    My husband, however, has no freakin’ clue what’s going on with what’s going on, or how to handle Thing One, or Thing Two and their raging hormones – yes, there are days when growing up sucks and being a girl…well…sucks wet poodle – so, Garth (not his real name) has been sort of…you know…letting me deal with it…them…whatever.

    "But, do me a favor…your father’s been going through a rough time, too…so, next time…to make it easier on ME…just blame your mother….I mean, me…d’oh…WHATEVER?"

    Fullhousegrandparentswatermarked

    Finally, we got to my in-laws and Garth (not his real name) took probably one of the ONLY pictures I have of them, together.

    "I thought you’d be here, earlier and I sort of gave up on you guys."

    If she only knew.

    "It was all mom’s fault!"

    Oh, wait – my MIL had 5 kids – she knows!

    [FYI:  I tried a cool new tool at MacroPhotos.NET because it automatically replaces the original photos with the watermarked copy – also, don’t forget about my Bloggy Giveaway.  I have decided to include comments on all posts, this week.  Giving more of my blog friends a chance.  Because, you’re busy.  I know.]

    [11/5:  Comments are closed – a winner has been picked and will be announced, soon!]

  • 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!

  • 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.