The countdown (27 days until Heather's 15th birthday) officially begins…NOW!!!
Taken with my cell phone. Imagine what I could do with a REAL camera? Yeah, I'm looking at you, Garth (not his real name!)
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© 2003 – 2010 This Full House Blog / This Full House Gone Shopping
Door busters, early bird specials, late night bonus savings, midnight madness, please take a number, stand in this line, DON'T MOVE, because, we may or may not call you within the next six hours (or, twenty) HOLY HANNAH MONTANA, is it me, or did shopping just get REAL HARD, or something?!?
I know. The thrill of the sale. Never EVER pay full price, if you don't have to. I get that. In fact, some of my best friends plan AND manage to get ALL of their holiday shopping done, every year, in one blessed day, DAMMIT!
Just, not me.
Nope, I'm THAT annoying lady, digging in her shoulder bag with one hand, flipping through the sale flier with the other, swearing up and down that she JUST had the stupid CVS coupon in her hand, a minute ago, AND she's standing RIGHT in front of you, too, DAMMIT!
Yep, I am ALL about making last minute shopping decisions and NOT just because I suffer from FDD (financial deficit disorder) or the lack of poor planning, or less than perfect organizational skills, either.
Nope, in our house, we just wait for something to blow up THEN we go shopping!
[sound of running feet]
"Now, what happened?"
Except, this passed Friday.
"OH…MY…GAWD…WHAT…IS…THAT…SMELL!!!"
The dog blew up.
"QUICK! Where did you put all those sale papers?!?"
Aaaand, Garth (not his real name) went shopping.
"But, it's 1:00 o'clock in the morn…[GAG!]…they're on the mantel!"
Then again, we NEEDED to clean the carpet, sooner or later.
"HOLY HANNAH MONTANA!!!"
Aaaand, the Doofus-Dawg just saved us 40% on a new rug shampoo machine.
"Is that his spleen?!?"
BLECH! Thanks to our family and friends, who insisted on slipping the dog "just a quick taste" under the table, we just experienced our first "belly buster sale."
[cue crickets, chirping]
Can't WAIT to see what I get…next year…stupid Thanksgiving!!!
© 2003 – 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping
Having spent the last few days recuperating from surgery (crankcase overhaul, overall, was successfully, THANKS!) only to be rushed back to the doctor's office with perhaps the worst bronchial infection, ever (SURPRISE!!!) THEN having to re-recuperate, while under the influence of prednisone (i.e. synonym for CRAZY) well, the last few days HAVE been an enlightening experience.
For example, stuff I learned while under the influence of prednisone:
This one, however, makes me kinda sorta want to cut someone, actually!!!
I rest my case, stupid steroids.
DISCLOSURE: This post is in NO WAY an endorsement for Geico and…NO!…I am NOT going to actually cut someone, for real. Besides, I am NOT allowed to use sharp stuff (remember?) not until I at least finish my prescription…Thanksgiving Day.
Why…YES!…yes, we ARE hosting Thanksgiving dinner this year; why, you want to come over?
C'mon, there's ALWAYS room for one more [cough…cough] CRAZY [cough…cough] and we could REALLY, REALLY use some more mustard!
UPDATED TO ADD: Ventured out for 1st time in almost a week without incident (YAY!) Only to trip in living room & bust up my knee cap while getting a jump start on Thanksgiving cleaning. Don't worry, Garth (not his real name) ripped me a new one for it. #iklutz
© 2003 – 2010 This Full House Blog
I'm heading into the hospital…erm…having my engine steam cleaned, later this week and meeting with my Gynecol…MECHANIC!…to discuss biopsy…I mean…PERFORMANCE EFFICIENCY DIAGNOSTICS…but, I'll find out more about that, later.
[UPDATE: Diagnostics came back negative and that is SUCH A GOOD THING, REALLY! So, putting my chasis into the shop for fine tuning was a GO for this Wednesday!!!]
What?
Yeah. I'm old. Still. Trust me when I tell you…it's NOT the years honey…it's the mileage…and I've got something REAL special, just for you (yes, YOU!) while I'm gone.
[reaches deep into pockets]
WAIT! Don't go, I promise, it's nothing tooooo graphic or gross (this time) but, kind of, sort of fun actually.
You see, my oldest was reading this year's birthday post (7th one I've written, as a matter of fact) and she dug up some old…VINTAGE!…blog posts from way back in 2003.
You know, when social media meant you were THRILLED just to make it onto someone's blogroll?!?
Ahem.
So, begins the 7 Years of a Mom Blog — a series of republished blog posts I wrote EXACTLY 7 years ago, today.
Keeping score: we had 3 cats, no doofus, kids were 10, 7, 4 and 2 at the time.
7 years ago today: My husband Garth (not his real name) actually considered leaving his wife (that would be me!) ENJOY!!!
I'm heading into the hospital…erm…having my engine steam cleaned, later this week and meeting with my Gynecol…MECHANIC!…to discuss biopsy…I mean…PERFORMANCE EFFICIENCY DIAGNOSTICS…but, I'll find out more about that, later.
[UPDATE: Diagnostics came back negative and that is SUCH A GOOD THING, REALLY! So, putting my chasis into the shop for fine tuning is a GO for today!!!]
What?
Yeah. I'm old. Still. Trust me when I tell you…it's NOT the years honey…it's the mileage…and I've got something REAL special, just for you (yes, YOU!) while I'm gone.
[reaches deep into pockets]
WAIT! Don't go, I promise, it's nothing tooooo graphic or gross (this time) but, kind of, sort of fun actually.
You see, my oldest was reading this year's birthday post (7th one I've written, as a matter of fact) and she dug up some old…VINTAGE!…blog posts from way back in 2003.
You know, when social media meant you were THRILLED just to make it onto someone's blogroll?!?
Ahem.
So, begins the 7 Years of a Mom Blog series of republished blog posts I wrote EXACTLY 7 years ago, today.
Keeping score: we had 3 cats, no doofus, kids were 10, 7, 4 and 2 at the time.
7 years ago today: a blog post written while under the influence of a sleeping aide induced fog…ENJOY!!!
I'm heading into the hospital…erm…having my engine steam cleaned, later this week and meeting with my Gynecol…MECHANIC!…to discuss biopsy…I mean…PERFORMANCE EFFICIENCY DIAGNOSTICS…but, I'll find out more about that, later today.
[11/16: UPDATED TO ADD: Diagnostics came back negative and that is SUCH A GOOD THING, REALLY! So, putting my chasis into the shop for fine tuning is a GO for this Wednesday!!!]
What?
Yeah. I'm old. Still. Trust me when I tell you…it's NOT the years honey…it's the mileage…and I've got something REAL special, just for you (yes, YOU!) while I'm gone.
[reaches deep into pockets]
WAIT! Don't go, I promise, it's nothing tooooo graphic or gross (this time) but, kind of, sort of fun actually.
You see, my oldest was reading this year's birthday post (7th one I've written, as a matter of fact) and she dug up some old…VINTAGE!…blog posts from way back in 2003.
You know, when social media meant you were THRILLED just to make it onto someone's blogroll?!?
Ahem.
So, begins the 7 Years of a Mom Blog — a series of republished blog posts I wrote EXACTLY 7 years ago, today.
Keeping score: we had 3 cats, no doofus, kids were 10, 7, 4 and 2 at the time.
7 years ago today, I had a dream: warning, there is mention of cabana boys, strapless French bikinis and puke may or may not have been involved…ENJOY!!!
I snapped this shot of my youngest and her bff on Halloween. Whoops. Sorry, I promise that will be the LAST time I mention Halloween.
D'oh!
Aaaanyway, I was looking through my flickr account and remembered that I posted a similar photo about 2 years ago, along with the realization that little girls were, you know, NOT very nice.
Then, they grow up and become women who dislike you for just, you know, being you.
Why is that?
I dunno. Seems I'm STILL having trouble quieting my inner-9-year-old in thinking…why YES…yes, we WILL be friends…until the end…of course.
Or, until, someone decides to burn a bridge, or something, with me, you know, still standing on it.
"Oh, I just can't STAND her right now!"
Conversations that start out like this, yeah, they make me itch.
"Who?"
Especially, when it is one of MY girls who says it.
"Oh, So-and-So is just AWFUL!"
Most especially, my teens.
"Wait a minute, I thought you were friends."
Apparently, yes, 10 minutes ago.
Long story short (you're welcome) I've tried to raise my kids to believe that calling someone out as your friend means that you also accept them for who they are and sometimes, yes, when they are NOT being very friend-like, either.
"Bet you wouldn't say that if I told you what she did!"
[whispers in ear]
However, I've recently come to the conclusion that there are also many levels of friendship and that's okay, too.
"Are you kidding me…in a Starbucks?!?"
No one is perfect. People make mistakes. Rumors and innuendos kill. I get that!
"How do you know?"
Then again, I'm just going to have to accept the fact that perhaps there ARE those times when it's best to, you know, walk away from a friendship.
[whispers in other ear]
Or, um, run.
"Well, maybe it IS time to give THAT friendship a break."
You do NOT want to know, however, if you have kids — especially, if they are teens and most especially, if they are girls — this would probably be a REAL good time to remind them about the improper uses of a cell phone.
"And, I'm NEVER using THAT bathroom, again!"
Trust me, I am a professional dork and NO ONE knows, the exact locations of the nearest emergency exit AND bathroom, better than I do!
P.S. Relax! It wasn't the 9 year-old and I am typically NOT this casual, or flippant when talking to my kids about this sort of stuff. However, I am thankful when one of them feels comfortable enough to talk (to me) about, you know, this sort of stuff (sort of) but, trust me when I also tell you that I was MUCH less calm about it, at the time, too!
"What's the matter with you?"
Another day, another kid, etc…
"What's His Name said he deleted me from his Live account!"
[heavy sigh]
"Meh, don't worry about it."
Boys, however, are a whole 'nother animal!
"He's just being a jerk!"
Stupid social media.
© 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping
This is one of my favorite views this side of Jersey (Bon Jovi lives just across the river, right over there, see him?) I took that pic with my cell phone (yes, my camera is STILL broken) while waiting for my pre-admissions stuff, the other day.
What? The dude sitting next to me took one, too! It really is a beautiful view.
When my oldest daughter was born (nearly 17 years ago, this Friday, ACK!) every expectant mother hoped for a "river view," just like that, from their hospital window.
I was NOT one of those moms.
Nuh-uh, I was a leeee-tull busy at the time. After 17 hours of labor, you coulda put me in a dumpster, I wouldn't have minded, just GET THIS KID OUTTA ME!
"HIYA!"
So, I thought. Back then, they didn't have private post-natal rooms and my roomie was, well, one mother of a P.I.T.A.!!!
"This is my first, too!"
Seriously? I don't remember her name. However, I do recall that Mother Earth told me that she was "breast feeding on demand" (I think she might have even gotten cable on those puppies) while I elected to bottle feed (no flaming, just would have been nice to have similar feeding schedules) and she spoke about two octaves higher than a normal person, which made her even MORE annoying than a lactating wood chipper!
I glanced over her shoulder, out the window and pretended I was anywhere, but here.
"I can't WAIT to have another!"
Then, I puked.
"Oh, you poor thing."
Aaaand, so ended our conversation and any further sympathy, or courtesy I would get from Mother Earth.
She had at least a half a dozen visitors, coming, or going, at any given time and, let me tell you, the LAST thing any new mother needs, especially one who's been ripped through, from top to bottom, by something the size of a watermelon (you're welcome) is a bunch of gooney-goo-goo-eyed strangers asking her, "Sooooo, what did you haaaaaave?"
"A watermelon, I think."
Didn't help that the toilet was on MY side of the room, either.
[FLUSH]
"HIYA, sooooo, what did YOU haaaaaave?"
Aaaand, that's when I lost it.
"BWAHHHHH!"
Long story, short (no, really, you're welcome!) they gave me my own room and, for the next 12 hours, I slept like a baby.
"HIYA!"
[We interrupt this day dream to bring you…death by wood chipper]
I crash landed back and, no, it wasn't Mother Earth (that would be REAL weird, right?) but, it was nice to see my SIL come down to check on me (she happens to work at this hospital) and, well, you gotta love karma, right?
"Great view, isn't it?"
Yeah, it really is (albeit, a little melancholy, this time around) and, even though I am half-passed-too-old and a-quarter-to-menopause (ain't being a woman, grand?) I can't help but feel a little sad that, next time, you know, there REALLY won't be a next time.
"The water looks smooth as glass."
Good thing there was a bathroom, right there, too!
[FLUSH]
Stupid river view.
© 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping
My kids are lucky. I know that. My parents have taken GREAT delight in spoiling their grandchildren (i.e. allow them stuff that mom and dad, you know, don't, because we've obviously forgotten the definition of fun!)
My in-laws? Well, they still seem to enjoy our company. Especially, when my kids are around. Yes, they probably like them way better than me, too.
It's okay. I'm down with it. Can't say as I blame them, either.
"Can we light a candle for Keresztmama?"
So, when my youngest asked to place the candle jar at the end of our driveway, so that my aunt could see it, even from way up in heaven, I truly believed that she would.
"Of course!"
My aunt would send them handmade birthday cards, which, with her bum right hand and one good eye, must have taken hours to draw, in colored pencil, no less.
"Look, there she is!"
Still, I couldn't help but feel a little startled (okay, A LOT!) when my 11 year-old son pointed out a new star in the night sky, thinking that my aunt was, you know, standing right behind us, seeing as I was raised by a bunch of Hungarians and, why yes, we ARE a superstitious lot!
"I think you're right!"
But, I'm not quite sure if my aunt was very happy with me.
"You think she misses us, yet?"
You see, I promised that I would take the kids down to see her (they live about 90 minutes away) but, that was months ago and, even though we talked on the phone, just last week, well, you know.
"Yes, just as much as we miss her!"
Then, I thought back to our last conversation. She heard about my upcoming procedure (probably, from my mother) and called to set my mind at ease.
"You've always been a fast healer."
The woman, who slowly suffered and lost parts of her body to the bitch that is diabetes, for the last 35 years, was giving me comfort.
"You're on my mind, always."
Still, why does someone have to get sick, or die, for us to take inventory of our own lives?
You know, like in deciding what we should have, or could have done, more or less.
"How do you know?"
I watched my 9 year-old daughter's breath chill and then eerily turn into a plume of phantom smoke.
"How do I know, what?"
Because, I'm observant like that.
"If she misses us, or not."
I looked deep into her brown-black eyes and thought, my gosh, how could she not?
"She had a picture of you guys, right by her bed."
It was actually taped on the small fridge where my cousin kept my aunt's water, orange juice, tubes of cake icing (to ward off the nasty effects of insulin shock) and, of course, her insulin.
"She adored your kids, you know that, right?"
My uncle pointed at a snapshot taken when my parents treated us to lunch on Valentine's Day and, well, now I'm really glad that the waitress insisted that, you know, I get in the shot, too.
"I'm going to draw her a picture."
I followed my youngest back into the house, watched her go through the craft drawer and, for the eleventy-hundredth time, my heart squished, a little (okay, A LOT!)
"This will help her remember how much WE loved her!"
I mean, really, putting that MUCH faith, in a few strokes of crayon and magic marker, who wouldn't love that, right?
[one beat, two beats]
"Me too, move over!"
You know, just in case.
© 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping
My mother's baby sister, Aunt Theresa (holding me) her friend (holding my brother) my dad, my mom and Nagy Mama late spring, 1964.
04/30/52 – 11/02/10
My Aunt Theresa sass'nit up on the dance floor (with me) on my wedding day (August 25, 1990) whose last wish was to be buried in the same awesomely sassy dress, tomorrow.
Until we meet again…save me a dance, my sweet and awesomely sassy Keresztmama (Godmother, in Hungarian) you will be missed, never forgotten and forever loved for ALL your sassyness and more!!!
Forever yours, Sziszike.
Friggin' Diabetes.