Have you heard the new Christmas Song I just made up for Moms (and Dads): Laundry Piled on High!
Inspired by my phone conversation with Melisa (with one S) this morning – aaaand, you thought I was joking, eh?
Wake me up when New Year's ends!
Check out the Official Wordless Wednesday HQ
Tag, you're it: Wordless Wednesday
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
This is part of a writing challenge at {W}rite-Of-Passage, a community of bloggers who are looking to get back to the writing part of blogging and brainchild of my friend, Mrs. Flinger. Today’s challenge was to find a person in public and write a story around them.
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"Where's your ticket?" the old woman croaked as she reached out her spotted hand and wiggled her boney fingers, filed razor-sharp and painted the color of congealed blood.
I nudged the children behind me, cleared my throat and replied, "We were told that we could buy tickets at the door."
Her thin lips quivered, as she let out a raspy sigh and replied, "Really?" Her breath smelled heavily of stale cigarette smoke and, in my mind's eye, I pictured her as one of the flesh-eating trolls my grandmother warned would come after us in our sleep, whenever my twin brother and I refused to eat our vegetables.
She raised one penciled-eyebrow and licked her lips; imagining me as her next meal, no doubt.
"Well, you were sadly misinformed."
She pushed back from the reception table and I swear, she made a rattling sort of sound, as if she were chained to the chair. I started to back away, surprised to see that the woman looked MUCH taller than I had imagined and came to the realization that I was indeed terribly wrong — the woman WAS a very old dragon, trapped in human form.
"I'…uh…um…but…"
I bit my lower lip, knowing that, somehow, this was going to end badly and I scanned the room for an emergency exit.
"Do you have a ticket, or no?"
No, and no craft show was worth being dressed down by a fiery old dragon, right?
"No, DAMMIT."
The drab gray pashmina fell from her thin shoulders and revealed her long swan-like neck.
"That's okay, Sweetie."
She reached into a pouch which hung from a beautiful gold chain-linked belt that was wrapped around her tiny little waist.
"There is no admittance fee."
She pulled out 4 lollipops and handed them to each of my kids.
"Uh…um…but…"
Then, she handed me a bunch of tickets.
"Also, everyone gets a free raffle ticket, today."
I was going to protest — there had to be at least a dozen tickets, or more — but, I stared blankly at her warm smiling eyes and, well, I was ashamed to admit that the old woman wasn't a troll, or dragon at all.
"Besides, I can tell that you're having a really bad day."
She must be a mom.
[Note: Although, the conversation is a work of fiction, it is loosely based on an incident, IRL, that did indeed, go very badly. It's all good, though. She apologized. I forgave her. She WAS a mom.]
Other participants writing, today:
Write on!
[Click here to view past Writing Challenges]
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
My friend WeaselMomma (seriously, that's her name) blogged 25 Things You Didn't Want to Know and then dared me to, you know, participate in a little TMI and, well, since I am ALL about finding new ways to avoid the laundry, here you go:
1. Name someone with the same birthday as you. My twin brother, Steve (HAH!)
2. Where was your first kiss? Bobby Nelson kissed me In an abandoned building near my house (What? I live in Jersey, YO!)
3. Have you ever seriously vandalized someone else’s property? Does throwing eggs at the house where meanest man in the neighborhood lived, count?
4. Have you ever hit someone of the opposite sex? Yes, and the besterd deserved it!
5. Have you ever sung in front of a large number of people? Yes, but a large number of people also sang as back up, at the time, so it's all good.
6. What’s the first thing you notice about your preferred sex? Eyes. My husband, Garth [not his real name] for example, has the prettiest pair of smiling eyes I ever saw and they change from green to blue and sometimes even gray, depending on what he's wearing, so cool.
7. What really turns you off? Bullies (cyber and IRL)
8. What do you order at Starbucks? I'm a McCafe sort of girl, really.
9. What is your biggest mistake? Thinking that I can make everyone (and their Grandmother) happy.
10. Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose? No.
11. Say something totally random about yourself. I can raise my right eyebrow (only) and do that, "Live long and prosper," Star Trek thing with my hands.
12. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity? Yes. My husband thinks I look a lot like Mariska Hargitay (riiiiiiiight, we both have Hungarian dads…that's about it) and I get stopped by senior citizens at the grocery store, a lot, when I wear my "smart girl glasses," telling me that I look like Sarah Palin. Also, just last night, when my son had two of his friends over playing Scene It and they ALL thought I looked like Demi Moore (in Ghost) aaaaand, if I don't shave my legs, Sasquatch!
13. Do you still watch kiddie movies or TV shows? Yes. I still adore watching Disney movies and there's just something about Sponge Bob….bahahahahahahahahahaha.
14. Did you have braces? No. Wish I did. My oldest two are getting braces in March [shiver] so, I guess I will just have to live vicariously through their having straighter teeth, in a few years, or twenty.
15. Are you comfortable with your height? Yes and no. Although, I've grown used to my 5' 10' frame, I find myself hunching over a lot and blame ALL you shorter people for, you know, my bad posture!
16. What is the most romantic thing someone of the preferred sex has done for you? My husband makes me a fresh pot of coffee (or, caw-fee, if you're from Jersey) every morning, for the last twenty years. What? Caw-fee lovers will perhaps agree, that this is TOTALLY sex-see!!!
17. When do you know it’s love? When he/she makes you coffee, in the morning.
18. Do you speak any other languages? I can speak, read and write Hungarian; some Spanish; know lots of curse words, in many others.
19. Have you ever been to tanning salon? No.
20. Have you ever ridden in a limo? Yes.
21. What’s something that really annoys you? Driving in friggin' Jersey, 'nuf said!
22. What’s something you really like? Christmas music (sorry, Melisa!)
23. Can you dance? At cocktail hour, most anyone can! Can I dance well is another question and, well, I think I've already answered THAT one.
24. Have you ever been rushed by an ambulance into the emergency room? Unfortunately, yes. Friends and family will agree, I am perhaps the clumsiest person on the planet!
25. Tag 5 people! Okay [slapping you on the back] TAG, YOU'RE IT!
Because, I'm not very good at following rules (I get that from my Hungarian grandmother) feel free to leave a comment, answering any one of these questions, and, well, we'll call it even, okay?
Have a great weekend!
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
My husband, Garth [not his real name] and I love attending open houses
– especially, if it's a home that we've admired from the sidewalk, or wondered…you
know…what the heck is going on in there?
Welcome to the Open House Blog Tour where everyone (and anyone) is free to come and leave links (PG-13, please) telling us about your individual blogging events, fundraisers, giveaways, book tours, contests, or if you have a burning blog post and just need to shout out, go for it!
I mean, who couldn't use a little linky love?
Okay, I'll start:
Leave a link, or comment, if you'd like — trust me, I know how busy you are — and, don't worry if you forget, it'll be here, linked permanently in my archives and on my shopping blog (two links for the price of one love byte) so, if you happen to stop by,
whenever, just go ahead and leave your link; I'm easy.
ALREADY SHOWING: OPEN HOUSE BLOG TOURS
Happy blog hunting!
[Please, clean off a chair and stay a while AND if you really, really like me, then feel free to visit my shopping blog and I'll love you forever!]
© 2009 This Full House – All Rights Reserved.
So, how's that part-time job going? Pretty well, actually. I got paid (yes, REAL money) last week and, well, I was rich (or, richer than the week before, anyway) for all of 5 seconds, when I remembered that, you know, I signed up for direct deposit.
DAMMIT!
It ALL goes into the "house" account, anyway.
Yes, I have a debit card, but it's just not the same as handing over a ten spot and not caring if you get change back, or telling the kid behind the counter to, you know "Keep the change," is it?
As if, I could ever justify buying a cup of coffee (or, if you're from Jersey, it's a cup-uh-caw-fee) for the cost of a gallon of milk and a dozen eggs, too, in some places, right?
Then, I was doing the laundry the other day (I know, act surprised, anyway) and I hit pay dirt!
"That's mine!"
My oldest girls have been helping out A LOT around the house, lately (under duress, from their father, of course) although, I'd love to be able to offer them an allowance, I don't remember the last time I got paid for, you know, doing my laundry.
"How do you know it's yours?"
Besides, they both have regular baby-sitting gigs and STILL get paid way better than I do.
"Beeeeecause, Holly loaned me five bucks."
My 10-year-old son, not so much.
"But, I lost it."
Aaaand, he's real bad with money.
"She gave me some, too."
My 8-year-old, however?
"But, mine's in my pocket!"
One beat…two beats…
"Wait a minute, let me see that money!"
Tell me, is it like this at your house?
8yo: "Hey, that's mine!"
10yo: "How DO YOU know?"
8yo: "Because, that's MY lip gloss!"
10yo: "Well, that IS my paper clip!"
8yo: "Here, you can have it!"
10yo: "That's NOT fair….Mooooooom!"
Aaaand, if it's not like this at your house.
"Here then take the lip gloss, too!"
Then lie to me, and I'll be sure to save you a nice warm spot, okay?
"It's got to be worth at least 4 bucks."
Beeeeecause, hell has GOT to be better than doing the laundry!
8yo: "Wait a minute, let me see that lip gloss!":
In my house, anyways.
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
It was the night before Thanksgiving, and all through the house, not a creature was sleeping, except for the boy and his, well, that's our Doofus Dawg and he is WAY bigger than a mouse.
Then, someone suggests, quite innocently,"Wouldn't it be funny, if we painted his toe nails?"
Now, most people would probably think, "Yes, but it wouldn't be very nice."
"Why yes, yes, it would, I'll get the nail polish!"
Then again, we are NOT most people, he IS the only boy in the house and, well, the kid pretty much pranks us…ALL THE TIME…so, it's all in the name of good, clean, fun, right?
"You're gonna make him cry."
Apparently, my 13 yo did NOT think it was such a great idea, but went along with it, anyway.
"That's just not right."
Neither did my husband, Garth [not his real name] who woke up with his fingernails painted, once, but that time I…I mean…we painted them black and he DID notice before leaving the house for work.
"Shhhh, you're gonna wake him up."
My son, however, slept through it all and it wasn't until sometime, in the middle of breakfast, the next day, that he even noticed!
"GAAAAAH, who painted my toenails?!?"
Aaaand, there was much giggling.
[eyes go wide]
Until, it dawned on him that, you know, someone painted HIS toenails.
"I told you he would cry."
Yeah, maybe we should have listened to Heather (obviously, she HAS more sense than her mother) but, my SIL was a little surprised at how upset he got (having slept over, on the night in question) and, well, she, or I would have let him in on the prank, before anyone else arrived for Thanksgiving dinner.
"I am SO embarrassed!"
Then again, maybe I've grown a little too used to dealing with girls, who cry, just because they can and aren't boys supposed to be all, you know, snakes and snails and puppy dog tails?
"I'm SO sorry, Bud; I really thought you'd think it was funny!"
Apparently, I was wrong…AGAIN!
"Well, IT'S NOT!"
I stood there, watching him, as he tried to wipe the nail polish off with a wet piece of toilet paper, and I wanted to crawl under a rock, and die, probably just as much as he wanted me to, if not more, I'm sure.
"Here, let me do that for you."
I grabbed the nail polish remover and started to, you know, try and clean up yet ANOTHER BIG MESS I'd gotten us into and, well, we each took turns and thanked my son for accepting our apologies, as half-assed as it sounds, at the moment.
"We didn't mean to make you cry!"
Lesson Learned: Girls are spice and everything nice, until their brother's asleep and there happens to be a bottle of nail polish, near by.
"Besides, you can always stick one of their fingers in a glass of warm water and make them pee their beds!"
Less than smart mothers, like me, however, deserve nothing more than strained carrots and peas, or made to watch the Doodle Bops, until our eyes explode AND our ears begin to bleed.
"No, that would be mean."
Although, he DID giggle…a little…me, too.
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
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.
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.
Yeah, the poor guy's got 3 sisters, but all 3 of our pets are boys and, well, that's close enough, right?
Cats. You either like them, or you don't. They do have
a reputation of being a tiny bit self-absorbed (pot calling the kettle black, I say) and, often times,
are considered not very good, you know, people-type pets.
Still.
There are those times, during their seemingly endless days of
captivity, when a cat can sense that something is off and their owners
aren't feeling quite right, or perhaps the planets are out of alignment, the
earth's rotation shifts just a tad, and they simply slip out of
character.
On the other hand, there is nothing more humanizing than staying up most of the night, taking care of a sick pet.
The Old Man (a.k.a. Pumpkin) belonged to my grandmother. She moved in with my folks — 5 years before she passed, when I was pregnant with Glen — but, left The Old Man in my care.
"Nasty old cat!"
No, I didn't like him. My husband liked him even less. Still. It's been 10 years (I only know, because my son is 10 and 4 pregnancies make for pretty good time lines) and, well, I guess we ALL just sort of grew on The Old Man.
My grandmother called The Old Man home last week and, as hard as his passing was — I never had a pet, or anything, for that matter, die in my arms, before — I am VERY thankful that the kids were NOT home to see it.
"Hey, uh, yeah, it's me, so, how you feelin'?"
I called my brother, this week — he's been going through some pretty invasive tests, lately — but, my husband and I made a conscious effort NOT to tell him about Pumpkin's death.
"Sorry to hear about Pumpkin."
Apparently, my mother told him. You see, besides my mother, Pumpkin was the last physical connection we had to our grandmother.
"You guys took good care of him and he lived a very long life."
My brother lost one of his kidney's to cancer, 2 or maybe even 3 years ago (I'm not sure, seeing as I haven't been pregnant in a long while) and, once that bitch (cancer) touches your life, well, it's like my brother's been looking over his shoulder ever since.
Me, too.
"How did those test results go?"
Long story short (you're welcome!) THE BITCH IS BACK!
"I'm having surgery on Monday."
They found cancerous cells in his bladder. THANKFULLY, the cells have sort of velcro'd themselves to the lining, but have NOT penetrated his bladder.
"They're also gonna give my bladder a good scrub down, too."
Actually, they're "gonna" give him what's called a chemo wash and, well, there's frustratingly little information available online regarding this type of treatment — besides, the fact that it "buys the patient some time," whatever the heck THAT means, right?
"Good, judging by your feet, it could probably use a good washing!"
Yeah, I know — feet have very little, if nothing, to do with your bladder — but, he laughed, anyway.
Brothers. You either like them, or you don't. They do have
a reputation of being a tiny bit self-absorbed (pot calling the kettle black, AGAIN, I know) and, often times,
are NOT very good at, you know, calling their sisters.
There are those times, during our seemingly endless days of countless routines, when the planets shift out of alignment, the
earth's rotation changes just a tad, and we get the chance to feel comfort in each other, all over again.
On the other hand, there's nothing more dehumanizing than being the twin who does NOT have cancer.
Rest in peace, Pumpkin. We're sure gonna miss you and your catherapy sessions, too! Oh, and if you get the chance, tell Mamama to send some good juju this way, okay? Bud could sure use some, right now.
Oh, and as for you…cancer…
"GET AWAY FROM HIM, YOU BITCH!!!"
Don't worry, my bruh-thuh, I love you (and your smelly feet, too) give her hell, Bud!
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
Behind every successful woman, is a basket of dirty laundry…Sally Forth
Except, in my case, it IS a "pile" of "clean" laundry and, well, success is a relative term, isn't it?
According to some members of my family (especially, those who are, you know, mostly, women) I should consider myself lucky, whenever my husband, Garth [not his real name] is brave enough to come home and "actually" gets out of the car, at night.
I get that.
Still. Why are we women (mothers or non) so gosh-darned hard on each other?
If you were to ask me to list the scariest words in the English language, a few years ago, it would have looked something like this:
Then, I picked up my oldest daughter (she turned 16, last week) and she laid 6 more on me, right in the middle of the high school parking lot:
"I started driver's ed, today!"
I knew this day would come. Dreaded it more than anything (even hot flashes) actually.
[the sound of brakes, screeching to a halt]
Then, she showed me the Parent Resource for Teen Driving Safety manual she received and I was all, like:
"You wanna drive home?"