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Nearly Wordless Wednesday: You’ve Been Ghosted – The Puking Pumpkin Starts Here!

Let's play!

It's that time of year, again — we "ghosted" our neighbors, last night — so, "Pass the puking pumpkin, please!"

[sound of crickets chirping]

What, with all the [ahem] negativity flying around our lovely little community, lately (seriously, NOT fun) I think it's about time we tapped into our inner-child and go
and ghost someone!

Positively, YES!

The rules are easy:

(1) It's your turn to "ghost" three other bloggers — perhaps, somewhere you haven't commented, in a while, or a
blog you've NEVER commented on before and is new to our blogging community.

(2) Stop by their blogs and leave a comment on their latest post
saying:

"You've Just Been Ghosted — Come Over and Grab A Puking
Pumpkin!"

(3) Copy and paste the puking pumpkin somewhere on your blog
(either in a post or on your sidebar, perhaps) so that everyone can see
that you have been "ghosted" and will NOT "ghost" you again. This will
also let you know who you can "ghost."

It will be fun to see how many "puking pumpkins" appear by Halloween…um…which is, like, next week and NO, my kids don't have their costumes…YET!

It's how we roll.

Aaaaanyway, feel free to join in (anytime) I'll start – my mother, punched your mother right in the nose, what
color blood…no, wait…that's not right – I'm going over to ghost 3
bloggers:

Melisa (not a typo, she only has one "s") because, she Skyped me before a shower and I slipped her the tongue (don't ask, go see!)

Amber (as if she had the time, or needs another freakin' pumpkin, I mean) because, her whole house is sick and she needs a warm fuzzy!

Mrs. Schmitty (say that real fast, five times, I double-dog dare you) because, she's gone over to the darkside and is working with the PTA (actually, she started a pretty awesome program I wish we had at our schools) and she could probably use a puking pumpkin, right about now!

CODE FOR THE PUKING PUMPKIN:

<a href="http://www.thisfullhouse.com/this_full_house/2009/10/nearly-wordless-wednesday-ghosted.html"><img src="http://www.thisfullhouse.com/badges/this-full-house-ghosted.jpg"></a>

Don't have the time – no worries – at least, I've got a pumpkin up, somewhere, since, we never DID get the time to go and, you know, get one!

[hangs head low]

So, do you know anyone who could use a puking pumpkin?

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

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.

October 21, 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
Completely Honest

My friend and fellow Jersey girl Cartoon Goddess has challenged me to be completely honest and, well, contrary to everything I have ever been taught (most especially, by Billy Joel) honesty is NOT the hardest part.

Saying 10 honest things about me, that you guys, you know, don't already know?

After 6 years of blogging my deepest, darkest secrets (okay, so, except maybe mine is mostly about laundry and a bit more, I dunno, dark grayish) there really isn't much left to tell…or, is there?

So, here it goes, 10 things that I have never, EVER told anyone, except maybe my husband, Garth [not his real name] but, he's not talking to me, at the moment, so, you know…

(more…)

October 15, 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
PHEW! Smells Like Human!

This is my chair. At the end of the day, when the light begins to fade and the last dish is washed (yes, stupid Bosch is STILL broken, DAMMIT) I remain patient, waiting for that final moment of release, as I breath deep, exhale and slip deep into my chair.

"What the?"

I can hear Cesar Millan, whispering, right now.

"Wait a minute! You paid for your house! You go to work to pay for that couch and that bed, and yet you can’t use it because it “belongs” to the dog? Something’s very wrong there. If this describes you, then it’s time to take back your own home."

Fine. So, now what?

"You must feel in your bones that you are the pack leader in the house, and project that calm-assertive energy."

Yeah, but, see, in my house, calm and assertive just don't mix.

"If you assert true leadership, your dog will not be sad, or hate you, or resent you, even if you take back the place on the sofa."

Yeah, but, see, sad eyes just kill me.

"Having a leader is hardwired into your dog’s brain – that’s what he both needs and wants."

Yeah, but.

"Take advantage of that and go ahead, sit on your couch again!"

Okay, seeing as your the expert and all.

"But you have to really mean it."

FINE!

"GET OFF THE COUCH!!!"

Aaaand, I NEVER saw 4 kids, move so fast, in my life.

Morale of the Story: Jerry Seinfeld is right — dogs are the leaders of the planet. If you see two life forms, one of them's making a poop, the other one's carrying it for him, who would you assume is in charge?

SHUTUP, Cesar!

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.

October 9, 2009
Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Don’t Sweat the Dirty Laundry

Sure, when my mother's over, it's a folding party and…NO!…I was NOT even invited!

Although, I gave up hope of ever "finishing" the laundry, a long time ago, I still think it's cute how my mother comes over and gets my kids to help her fold their laundry, sort of.

"I can't believe that this basket is full of JUST socks!"

6 pairs of feet make for a lot of socks, I guess. Still. It's easier to holler at the kids, when they're getting ready for soccer, field hockey, or whatever else requires some extrasensory protection against stinky sports equipment.

"DID YOU CHECK IN THE SOCK BASKET???"

Now that the cooler weather is here, we're going to be hitting the sock basket (pretty hard) and, well, while most people would probably think that blogging about my mother, folding my laundry, with my kids, is pretty, you know, sad and a pathetic state of the blogging universe, these days, really.

"Ewww, this one still looks….crusty."

On the surface, it's snot.

"Like boogers, right?"

To a wigged-out, frustrated and disenchanted blogger (like me) it's all about seizing the moment, to be able to look a little deeper, then commit all of your thoughts and feelings into a few short paragraphs, well, some folks would STILL consider this to be just a silly little story.

"Only Mama can make even folding laundry…look fun!"

I call it sublime poetry.

CLICK!

"You're not going to blog that, are you?"

I just don't sweat the dirty laundry, all that much, anymore.

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

In Other News: Nestle Family Blogger Event – Lessons Learned, Social Media and Twitter

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved

October 7, 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
Rinse, Spit and Don’t Bother Repeating Yourself, I’ll Wait!

Look, she spits just like a little brother!

My 3 girls argue, a lot. Sometimes, it's over really dumb stuff, like, I don't know, this one is copying that one, while the other one is always annoying everyone else (guess which one, go ahead, I'll wait) but, having 3 sisters, who argue, about dumb stuff, all the time, can be awfully hard on a guy.

Still.

At our house, when push comes to shove, it's the teens vs. the tweens and, well, guess who gets to referee? Go ahead, I'll wait.

NOBODY!

"You are such a loser!"

Not anymore.

"Well, you are a bigger loser!"

Especially, now that they're older.

"Nuh-uh!"

It's a never-ending battle of the, yuh-huh's.

"Yuh-huh!"

See what I mean?

"ENOUGH!"

Still, I'm tired; not getting any younger, either (DAMMIT!) and, well, enough is enough, right?

"I MEAN, IF I HAD A DOLLAR FOR EACH TIME I WISH I HAD A SISTER!!!"

I mean, I don't really remember the last time I really "talked" to my kids, without hollering, first.

[blank stares]

Honestly, I'm getting really tired of reminding my kids how I don't see my twin brother as often as I'd like and just how lucky they are to, you know, have each other to argue with, since no one ever seems to want to listen to me.

"Mom, what ARE you talking about?"

See?

"Why would you call your sister a loser, like that?"

[blank stares]

"Catch a grip, Mom; I'm just congratulating Heather for losing all that extra weight she picked up since her surgery."

[blank stare]

"Well, I bet you can't spit as far as Hopey can!"

Okay, so I may not be the quietest, most smartest mother in the world.

"Ready…set…go!"

But, I'm certainly not the dumbest. Guess who won? Go ahead, I'll wait!

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved

September 28, 2009
The Back-to-School Night That Almost Wasn’t
Earlier this month, on the first day of school, I posted this video on TheMotherhood.com and went on…and on…about how, after having recently earned my 15 year pin (okay, not really, but parenthood ain't all sunshine and rainbows, so they really should give us something, right?) I am JUST NOW learning how to breath.
- Conference call
- Doctor's appointment
- Conference call
- Field Hockey Game
- Soccer Practice
- Back-to-School Night #3
Yeah, well, I lied.

[heavy sigh]

I also remember saying something about, "not being a big fan of back-to-school nights" and how, you know, I just don't like doing them anymore.

"Are we going tonight, Momma?"

Then, I remembered something else.

"Yep, as soon as Daddy gets here."

My oldest kid is a sophomore in high school.

"Then, we can go."

But, I missed her freshman orientation and, well, my parents never met any of my high school teachers, or were ever really able to play an active role in our community (with both of them working full-time and part-time jobs, I don't blame them) so, I went.

"Are you ready, Momma?"

As ready as I'll ever be, after:
- Dropping Holly and Hope at Glen's soccer practice
- Loaning coach Glen's social studies book (sucks to be his son, right now)
- Picking up Heather from field hockey
- Meeting my husband back at Glen's soccer practice
- Dropping Hope and Heather off at home
Then a quick potty stop…for me…of course.

"You used to be a lot more Zen!"

I hate it when other mothers remember stuff, like that.

"What happened?"

It's true. I used to be real cool and calm about stuff, when my kids were little(er), while other mothers were all, like, ACK, but snow days and television ARE the devil!!!

Holly pretended not to know me, but it didn't work.

"Hi, I'm Holly's mom!"

See?

"Yes, well, you walked in with her, so…."

Yes, I took her with me. Hello? 4 kids in 4 different schools. 16 teachers between them. Lucky if I remember my kids' names. Still. It was sort of fun to sit next to her and make fun of…I mean…get to know the other parents and stuff.

"You are such a child!"

See?

We got to sit all of 10 minutes, before it was time to head over to…uh…I think it was Biology…maybe, English…I forget.

"Which one is yours?"

But, I wanted to check out the biographies posted on the back wall and found Holly's, right away. It was easy — she loves to draw anime.
- Favorite Sports: None
- Favorite Athelete: None
- Favorite Outdoor Activity: None
Oh, and Holly hates sports and the kid who would love to live in the city.

Thank goodness, seeing as 3 outta 4 of my kids like sports and, well, I needed someone to stay home, or at least pretend like staying home is, you know, a good thing, too.

Then, I saw this:
- My Hero: Mom
Aaaand, well, you know, I am just really, really glad I went.

"I'm hungry!"

Besides, once your kids get older, perhaps one day you will also begin to believe that back-to-school night isn't really all that bad, after all.

"Wanna get McDonald's?"

It's sort of like date night, with kids, only a whole lot cheaper and without all the busted plumbing.

"Sure, after I call your grandparents, before they go to bed, to tell them Heather won't need anymore butt surgery!!!"

Aren't you glad I didn't take Twitter?

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved
September 25, 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