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Male Bonding, in a Houseful of Females, is Sticky!

father & son, discussing manly things ~ june 2007

I love this picture for so many reasons, but mostly because my son and husband weren't aware of my taking it (which is a great feat in and of itself, especially for a clumsy dork like myself, trust me on this!) and, in my stealthiness, I was able to capture an intimate moment between father and son.

Don't EVEN get me started on how I just realized that my son still had his baby face in the 2nd grade or how blonde his hair would get by the end of the summer.

Aaaaand, how the kid was (and still is) an absolute magnet for bug bites — look at his poor leg all bitten up and everything.

My husband, on the other hand, could stay out for hours and not have to swat at a single bug — except for gnats, because those little suckers are relentless – I swear, the man is a walking, talking insect repellent.

Aaaaand, he would have you believe it's because of his sour disposition, to which I will gladly call bullsh&t, each and every time AND most of you guys already know, I am married to a saint.

Lately, however, I can't say living with the both of them…under the same roof…has been a slice of heaven.

so close, yet so far

Don't get me wrong, they are wonderful human beings and both have very soft and squishy hearts (which is good, when you live with a bunch of females); it's just that together, well, they butt heads…a lot…like a couple of enraged mountain goats.

As if tensions weren't high enough, with a pre-menopausal mother in a houseful of teenage daughters, right?!?

However, when my daughters and I do battle, it's mostly about their borrowing my clothes without asking or having any intentions of giving them back…cough, cough…HOLLY…cough, cough…or consuming the LAST pod of coffee…cough, cough…HEATHER…cough, cough…and don't EVEN get me started on my youngest daughter's habit of having the last word…WORD, INFINITY!

glen all duded up for the 8th grade dance ~ june 2013

I mean, I get it: it's like an alpha male sort of thing, right?!? RIGHT?!?

[cue pack of hyenas, laughing]

Riiiiiiiiiight.

I can't help it — growing up in a house with someone yelling at someone else, all the time — the butting head thing is making me a little crazy. Okay, crazier than usual. So does the inevitable radio silence, afterwards.

This week?!? Totally nutty — like in, holy crap on a cracker, can we PLEASE have a do-over?!? — the sort of crazy that will keep even a non-pre-menopausal woman up at night…worrying about every little thing she canNOT control…btw, she is also very well aware of that fact…DAMMIT!!!

Aaaaand, then it hit her…I mean me…like a brick upside the head: it's NOT them, it's me!

Or, my stupidly high expectations of wanting to recapture that same intimate moment between the top two on my list of the most important men in my life.

Rather than just enjoy small, fleeting moments of simply being.

"Did you have a good time at the dance?"

Content with understanding that perhaps now they just are NOT meant to include me.

"Yeah, and Dad is a ninja at drop-offs and pick-ups!"

Aaaaand, well, I'm okay with that, too.

"He doesn't curse near as much as YOU do."

Then again, this male bonding thing…highly overrated…don'tcha think?!?

© 2003 – 2013 This Full House

With a fan page on Facebook and everything!

June 21, 2013
My Ability to Confuse People, In Two Languages

Growing up in my parent's house we spoke Hunglish and, even now, my kids have very little trouble following along, as their maternal side of the family tree continues to hold entire conversations, in half Hungarian and half English.

now, my mom and I both spend our sundays trying to remember just when (and how) in the heck our kids got so grown…

The downside being: my inability to complete a single reprimand, without referring to some Hungarian proverb my parents or grandmother would bust out in similar parenting situations.

Problem being: my kids have no clue what the heck I am hollering about, in two languages, unless I bust out with a slew of curse words and, well, then they know to duck and cover.

Just the sound of "a fene egye meg", when spat in between "hulye", "pofatlan" and "balfasz" is enough to guarantee, at the very least, an awkward silence from the "stupid" "faceless" "sucker", "damn it" (true translation, makes no sense, I know) especially, if you happen to be on the receiving end.

Still, Hungarian expressions like "lofasz a budosh kurva anyad seggebe" are quite offensive and much worse than its English counterpart: which I cannot even bring myself to type, this early in the day.

Suffice it to say it is quite stinky and most likely very, very painful.

[shiver]

So, what's my point…and EWWWW!!!…right?!?

I received a call from the nurse at the high school that my middle girl attends: she got in between a boyfriend and a girlfriend being all…[giggle-giggle]…oh, stop it…[giggle-giggle]…and their supposed playful pushing and shoving, which then suddenly turned all…no, YOU stop it…BAM!!!

The girlfriend fell into her locker door (which was wide open) and slammed it into my daughter's head.

I know, ouch!

Unfortunately, it didn't end there. Heather then slammed the OTHER side of her head into her own locker and, well, OUCH!!!

Long story, short: she went to the nurse's office, politely asked for an ibuprofen and then proceeded to vomit.

A LOT!!!

Aaaaand she was still vomiting, by the time I got to her school, almost an hour later, earning us an impromptu ride in an ambulance.

It's how we roll.

Heather is the only one out of all four of my kids…[knocking on wood until knuckles bleed]…who has ever gone through surgery…twice…followed by two more emergency room visits for complications from a very invasive procedure on her backside.

In teaching hospitals that happened to be staffed with medical students, each and every time.

Seriously, even I was all like, OH MAN, 20-something year-olds are staring at my 13 year-old's butt, really?!?

She is also my migraine kid.

"There seems to be no cranial damage."

Only, this time, the pediatric physician on staff had a wicked accent and I heard it as her saying: no anal damage, because I am 12.

"We're going to treat her for migraine with i.v. fluids and meds."

Having been there way too many times, my ownself, I got absolutely nothing whimsical to say about migraines or i.v. fluids.

[shiver]

Aaaaaand, that's when my daughter proceeded to lose her cranium.

"Why DOES IT ALWAYS have to be me DAMMIT?!?"

Not for nothing, but the kid DOES seem to be a magnet for this sort of stuff and I am seriously considering investing in lots of bubble wrap, over the summer.

"Well, you know what your great-grandmother always said?"

Heather closed her eyes and pretended to be sleeping; didn't stop THIS dork any, though.

"The dog will always choose to pee where there is pee, already."

[blink-blink-blink]

"Like, you know, when we walk Doofus-Dawg?"

She finally opened her eyes, probably way past bored at this point, wondering where in the heck this was going.

"How he sniffs and then pees on every pole, mailbox or whatever."

[blink-blink-blink]

"Soooooo, you're saying I'm a pole, that makes total sense…to no one."

Ah, a little nugget of sarcasm, it was at this point when I knew that she was beginning to feel a little better and that we (mostly me!) would be okay…SHEW!!!

"Nooooo, I'm saying we're both more like pee magnets."

Aaaaaand, then I heard someone else quietly clear their throat.

"The bathroom is just around the corner, if you need, Mrs. Thompson."

Moral of the Story: Better to be laughed at than puked on, I always say.

[sound of crickets, chirping]

"Hulye" head injuries, "seggfej" proverbs.

© 2003 – 2013 This Full House

With a fan page on Facebook and everything!

June 18, 2013
I’m Married to a Saint, Literally

Confession: we're not a very religious family, in the sense that we have not attended church services in a very long while and are, what I often refer to as being, "in between churches" at the moment.

If you were to ask me to give you a reason why we aren't, at the very least, involved with some form of organized religion, it would be a very solid….I don't know.

We used to be.

My husband, Garth (not his real name) served as a deacon, while I taught Sunday school when our two oldest were in preschool and I was pregnant with our son when the church elders asked me to apply as the director of the vacation bible school that same year.

DID SO!

Aaaaaand, it may even surprise some of you to learn that I actually got the job (clearly, when I used to be much more organized and stuff).

Long story, short: we left the congregation soon after our son was born and then, a few years later, had our youngest daughter christened at the church where our oldest girls had attended preschool.

We haven't been back since, for what my husband and I now consider to be very boring and undramatic reasons.

The kids? Well, over the last several years, they have each been either asked to attend various religious ceremonies and youth groups with friends or have participated in church functions…with OTHER families.

I mean, why lay ALL our ecclesiastical baggage on them…right?!?

Right.

Soooooo, you can just imagine their surprise when Garth's (NHRN) niece and her fiancee asked him to officiate their wedding, this summer.

No, he did NOT become a minister, since in between those last few paragraphs, or anything that can be even remotely linked back to his college degree: Garth (NHRN) minored in religion, ironically enough.

My husband was dumbstruck — literally, he did NOT know what to say — I, on the other hand, was all like…SURE!!!…Uncle Garth (NHRN) would LOVE to marry you guys…because I am ALL supportive and brave (mostly, for OTHER folks) like that.

Garth (NHRN), on the other hand, is all…it's their wedding…I do NOT want to blow this.

So, this weekend, we were invited out to dinner to discuss the wedding ceremony with our niece and nephew-in-law-to-be and, well, funny how some stuff sort of seems a lot less worrisome…to some folks…when discussed over a pitcher of white sangria.

"So, what do you think Uncle Garth (NHRN)?!?"

Also, I may or may not have started answering for Garth (NHRN).

"SURE…that sounds like a GREAT idea…FUHGHETTABOUT what everyone ELSE wants…it's YOUR wedding…yada…yada…etc…etc…"

But, NOT for long.

"SHUDDUP, YOU!!!"

Aaaaaand, without skipping a beat, his niece pointed out how I effectively managed to reiterate the very reason why she suggested Garth (NHRN) solemnize their marriage.

"Seeeee, THIS is what WE have to look forward to!!!!"

Not just because he's lived with me for almost 23 years, which qualifies him for sainthood, in some circles…I'm pretty sure…more likely, because he is also smart enough to let me finish my sentence…FIRST.

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Right.

Saint Garth (not his real name): it's got a nice ring to it, don'tcha think?!?

© 2003 – 2013 This Full House

With a fan page on Facebook and everything!

June 10, 2013
BEWARE: Guard Dog on Laundry Duty!

Backstory: I first Instagrammed a picture of our Doofus-Dawg sleeping…sorry, I mean…PROTECTING the laundry, because someone’s GOT to guard it from the danged squirrels.

My office also happens to pull double-duty as the laundry room and, upon occasion, Garth’s (not his real name) mancave and, yeah, it’s not called This Full House for nothing!

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Aaaaanyway, it’s sort of hard to work with a 90 lb. Doofus-Dawg snoring behind me and I was all, like….daaaaaaaang….how he could EVEN sleep through ALL the bird chatter and squirrel-squealing going on behind “him”.

Here, let me show you:

Stupid birds; dumbass squirrels; friggin’ laundry.

©2003 – 2013 This Full House

With a fan page on Facebook and everything!

June 5, 2013
Got Teens? You’re Gonna Need a BIGGER Puke Bucket!

Yes, we have a puke bucket. Actually, it's a very large mixing bowl (HUGE!) and, well, I'm going to stop RIGHT THERE, as the imagery may be way too much for some folks to consider…right now…if ever.

Unless you have teens: where it isn't a family meal, until someone belts out a fart joke (or twenty) and then my youngest (who is turning twelve, this month, EEEEP!!!) begins a rather graphic discussion on the EXACT origin, destination and natural biography of every bodily function known to man/womankind.

Oh, hey! Hiya! Want to come to dinner?!? BYOPB!!!

Soooooo, aaaaaanyway, I feel it safe to say that there isn't very much left we parent-type folks can't handle…on a physical level, I mean.

On the other hand, emotionally and mentally, I am an absolute train wreck.

I'm talking full-frontal face-wipe, over here: which starts out as a face-palm, and then you just sort of try to drag your eyebrows…to your chin.

G'head, I'll wait.

Aaaaaand, there isn't a font BIG ENOUGH to accurately convey the "WTF?!?" feeling of helplessness…whenever you decide to stand back and NOT do anything…other than allow your kids to just…you know…grow up.

This weekend was one of those days.

Long story, short: contrary to what some parenting experts will tell you (I am SO NOT one of them, btw) there is a very, very, very and I mean very fine line (infinitesimal, even) of being able to tell the difference between typical growing pains AND something much more sinister.

Growing pains stink like wet poodle: sinister sucks wet, hairy donkey balls.

[passes puke bucket]

Even longer story, shorter (seriously, this vague-blogging is hard…YO!): it was a looooooooooong weekend of "WTF(s)?!?" up in here, my friends.

So, last night: I sat down at my desk in an effort to get a jumpstart on the week, when my oldest daughter walked in from work and all hell broke loose AGAIN!

"Alright, what happened?!?"

Except, this time they were ALL snort-laughing with each other and…YES!!!…along with their penchant for cracking off a joke at the most inopportune moments AND making the mistake of not taking into consideration that maybe NOT everyone they meet is a hugger…they get that from me, too.

"Holly got asked out at work!"

Okay, but how is that funny?!?

"She said NO!"

Okay, still NOT seeing the funny.

"Aaaaaand, when the guy turned to leave the shop, she hollered after him: but, THANK YOU!!!!"

The really funny part: her voice goes up a couple of octaves and she then starts to smile this big toothy sort of grin when she's nervous (or angry) which is EVEN funnier…because it totally sounds like you're getting a smackdown from Snow White.

"I was caught off guard, QUIT LAUGHING!!!"

The part where I really lost it: my son tried to mimick her; his voice is changing.

[throws arms up in the air, closes eyes and SCREAMS]

It's a roller coaster ride up in here, my friends…BYOPB!!!

© 2003 – 2013 This Full House

With a fan page on Facebook and everything!

June 3, 2013
Pledge to Help #FinishTheFight Against Cancer

Disclosure: with many thanks to the American Cancer Society for sponsoring and compensating my writing about ways in which we can help give cancer the virtual bitchslap it deserves!

I love this picture of my twin brother and me: it was our birthday (yesterday!) and this is where I would joke about our age, insisting that we were actually celebrating another anniversary of our 29th birthday.

I’ve never been very comfortable with numbers, most especially when used as the “only” tool in defining a person’s worth, but today I am putting all thoughts of vanity aside and outing myself:

(more…)

May 29, 2013
DIY: I Don’t Think It Means What You Think It Does
Confession: I am a DIY fan girl (not to mention, pretty gosh-darned fond of acronyms) and I may or may not have openly admitted to having a slight crush on Mike Holmes.

By openly, I mean blogged about my crushing on Mike Holmes, maybe more than once.

Aaaaaaaand, by slight I mean, just short of tackling the poor man in public and demanding that he sign my good knee.

Which, these days, would not ONLY get me arrested (rightfully so, because, you can't just go tackling people in public, especially strangers who make a lot more money than you do, seriously), but then I'd have to convince my husband…my back DID SO give out, I just couldn't get off of the man…aaaaaaaand…try explaining THAT to the nightly news.

Aaaaanyway, what were we talking about?

[blows bangs out of eyes, look at ALL that dust on the television]

Oh yeah, sorry Mikey, adorable as you are, I am SO OVER earring-studded Canadians wielding hammers and such.

The Property Brothers: because I am a dork and can't seem to embed the ding-danged pin http://pinterest.com/pin/162481499028515009/

Not to mention, double-handy and equally-adorable renovating genius twins like the Property Brothers, Drew and Jonathan Scott.

You see, for all your talk about…ummmmm…I'm not exactly sure what it is you're saying, because I may or may not be too busy being annoyed with the whine-y homeowners, wondering whether or not Jonathan (the muscle behind the redo) will be able to produce the real estate equivalent of a flipping miracle, in the time it takes me to make the simple decision between choosing regular or decaf, while hollering "WHAT IS WRONG with YOU PEOPLE?!?" at the television.

My husband, Garth (not his real name) doesn't like watching television with me, either (especially, on Wednesday nights) and, well, don't even get me started on how Pinterest makes DIY look so gosh-darned cut, paste, let dry for 24 hours and…VIOLA!!!…check out this easy DIY upcycled pergola!

Fibbers.

Because, you know what DIY-ing really means, don't you?!? Would you like to know what I think it means?!? EXCELLENT!!! For starters:
- Do-It-Yet?: as it is most commonly used in our house, the most probable answer being, next summer.
- Don't-Injury-Yourself: especially, if I am in the room and am mistakenly trusted with wielding heavy and/or sharp objects, then, oh yes, there will be blood.
- D'OH-I'm-Yakking: as in incessant vomiting, because…OMG!!!…all the blood.
- Damn-It-YES!: after asking my husband, for the eleven-teenth time, whether or not he remembered to charge the screw gun while adding "get new screw gun" onto the list on our twentieth trip to Home Depot.
- Dyson-I'm-Yours: *drooling* clean up in aisle…ummmm…wherever it is they keep the vacuums, this week.
- Damn-It's-Yellow: who knew there could be SO MANY shades of white?!?
- Daddy-Is-Yelling: he's not very fond of white-yellow.
- Demolition-Is-Yucky: although, dang if Mike Holmes doesn't make a hot mess look good.
Aaaaaand, the #1 reason why I seem to continually mis-pronounce or type it as DYI:
- Do-Yourself-In: enough said.
Are you feeling me?!?

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Stupid DYI shows, dumbass acronyms.

© 2003 – 2013 This Full House

With a fan page on Facebook and everything!
May 23, 2013
I Don’t Always Talk To My Teen, But When I Do, We Text
Some parenting-type experts will agree: most teens have no idea how to have real conversations, because they are too busy texting on their cell phones.

I am NOT one of these parenting-type experts: in fact, I really do wonder if any of them…you know…actually live with teens and I'm just going to embrace this moment (sorry, I'm a hugger) and share a little parenting-type secret with you, okay?

Wait. For. It.

Teens do NOT talk: sometimes, even when they are spoken to, and I most humbly suggest that you just go ahead and not expect any serious eye contact, anytime soon, either — it'll be easier that way, trust me.

However, most parents also own cell phones and, well, messing with your teens just got better.

For example-type purposes: my oldest daughter went out with a bunch of girlfriends to celebrate one of their birthdays, after work.

No biggie, right?

I'm going to add some key pieces of information missing from that sentence:
- My oldest daughter is 19
- As are her girlfriends
- It was teen night, at a dance club
- My daughter's shift ended at 8 p.m.
- She got home at 9 p.m.
- It took her until sometime around 10:00 p.m. to figure out just which shoes goes best with which top
All "yeah, but she's an adult now" and "she's got a good head on her shoulders" arguments aside (because, seriously, with a houseful of teenagers, the line for questioning my parenting abilities forms to the right) I suspect any attention she does get will most probably NOT be kept, above the shoulders.
- Text me, no maybes!
Long story, short (I know, too late, but we're already too deep into brain vomit, you're welcome) I pretty much did the same thing at her age (YES, I still remember and never mind just HOW long ago it was) and, well, only really important people walked around with briefcase phones.

Aaaaaand, my parents never slept.

Today, my husband and I insist that our kids remember to, at the very least, text us: but STILL we are NOT sleeping.
- 10:03 p.m. — at Snooki's house (not her real name and don't EVEN!) I'll text when we leave
- 1:29 a.m. — Heading to get food now then back to Snooki's (seriously, JUST STOP IT!) house! All safe and sound
- 2:19 a.m. — change of plans, I am sleeping over Annie's (not her real name, either and this would be funnier, if she had red, curly hair, which she doesn't, whatev!) I'm there now
She did stop home long enough to tell me some quick and amazingly funny stories from last night (seems guys have NOT changed, AT ALL!) and then I got this text after she got into work:

What?!? Alright, fine, I don't expect everyone will get the 80's movie reference, but my kids are pretty used to my busting out into Broadway show tunes, too…aaaaaaand, YES!!!…this IS the part where you should start feeling a little bit better about yourself 🙂

You know, thinking on it some more, I never DID hear back from her. Maybe she's just too busy Googling "fly dance moves" right?!? RIGHT?!?

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Stupid parenting-type experts; dumbass 80's catchphrases.

© 2003 – 2013 This Full House

With a fan page on Facebook and everything!
May 17, 2013
Another Vlog Tutorial: How NOT to Talk to Teenagers
Working in social media, I get to watch a lot of "how to" videos (YES, it's a job!) and I have learned some really interesting stuff along the way: like, how some parenting sites can make raising teens (and tweens) sound sooooooo…I don't know…wash, rinse and repeat.

So, I was undermining my teens' privacy the other day and started thinking to myself; you know, maybe it would be a whole lot easier if someone showed me what NOT to do…and…HEY!!!!…wait a minute…I can do that!!!

So, I present to you, the second in a series of "how NOT to" vlogs.

A few post-production notes:
- I am, and have NEVER even claimed to be, in no way, shape or form a parenting expert…clearly.
- If, however, by posting these silly little videos, I can make you feel even just a little better about your parenting skills, then my job here is done.
- That being said, do NOT try this at home, I am a professional dork.
- My husband, kids and even the dog know and they seem to be okay wit-it.
- I also realize that the audio does not match the video.
- You've just witnessed a professional dork "workin-it".
- With SUPER heavy duty and totally teen-induced eye baggage, even.
- Wil Wheaton is awesome.
© 2003 – 2013 This Full House

New and improved with a fan page on Facebook and everything!
May 15, 2013
Sinceriously Yours, I.M. Deluded

Our youngest daughter is turning 12, next month — pausing to allow for the "OH, BUT HOW?!?" and the "MY BAYBEEEEEE?!?" to come through, okay, I'm good now, thanks!!! — and, as fourth in line, MY BAYBEEEEEE (whoops, that one slipped right through, sorry!) she's learned to sit back and observe, as her older siblings get grounded for one reason (or twenty), so that she knows EXACTLY what she can or cannot get away with.

Aaaaaand, she will test us…in theory…just in case.

I'm just beginning to get used to her turning eleventeen

Long story, short: not only have we deluded ourselves into believing that this kid would most likely be the easiest one to raise, we NEVER had a chance.

Oh, but she's soooooooo cute, right?!? YES!!! Also, to her advantage, she's smart and presents a list of reasons why she should be allowed to [enter whatever it is her siblings were NOT allowed, here] which, more often than not, leaves me snort-laughing and, well, when I say we NEVER had a chance, I mostly mean…me.

For example: my insisting that she does NOT in fact need to get one of those $$ binders, this late into the school year and then finding an email (sent to my business account, btw) outlining the reasons why she does so need to get one of those $$ binders:

REASONS WHY I DO SO NEED TO GET A $$ BINDER

1.) I would be way more organized throughout the year.

2.) We would save more money with just buying one big binder rather than two smaller ones.

3.) They have more space and it will allow me to have easy access to everything in my binder.

4.) As you can see my binders right now are falling apart.

5.) It would allow me to have more space for every subject, have space for my writing materials, and it would be 1 binder.

6.) With this binder I won't have to use a book bag.

7.) This binder would take a lot of weight off of my shoulders, I would carry the binder and my lunch, that’s it!

8.) You would not have to worry about it breaking because they are really good, and it may even last until 7th grade that saves even more money!

9.) And did I mention that it saves money???????!!!!!

10.) All of these reasons make up the binder of my dreams.

Aaaaaaand, then she included "here are some pictures" with her closing statement:

I hope you choose to buy this binder with me and as you can see I'm leaning towards the purple color.

Sinceriously,

How could I say no, right?!? RIGHT?!?

Riiiiiiight, but what if I told you that she ALSO copied her list of reasons why she does so need to get one of those $$ binders and then shared it with me in a Google doc?!?

You see what I mean?!? We…okay, fine…I NEVER HAD A FRIGGIN' CHANCE, with this kid.

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Aaaaaaand, you are NOT helping.

[blows bangs out of eyes, drains coffee mug]

She had me at number 8 (don't judge!) and, now that she has one of those $$ binders (yes, it's purple, dammit), it IS one less thing I can √ off of my list for next year, right?!?

[what IS it with ALL these crickets, anyways]

Stupid school supplies, dumbass Google docs.

© 2003 – 2013 This Full House

New and improved with a fan page on Facebook and everything!

May 9, 2013