This Full House Archive

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Parenting Tip #43,100,688:
Don’t Have a Helmet, Get One!

Besides, the fact that we are perhaps the only family, with four kids, and the youngest nearly in double-digits, who has never been to Disney World (meanies that we are) a lot of people seem to be surprised when they learn that my kids can't ride bikes, either.

Without training wheels, I mean.

I don't know why, really, I guess my kids just never really got into them and then scooters were a big thing, so, there's that.

"I want to learn how to ride a bike!"

My youngest, however, wants to learn how to do everything — especially, if she's the first kid in our family to, you know, do it.

"Okay, maybe this summer."

[hands on hips]

"That's what you ALWAYS say!"

Unfortunately, she wants everything, like, RIGHT NOW, nevermind that there's been snow on the ground for the last couple of, uh, what month is it, again?

"What do you mean?"

Because, you know, I'm quick like that.

"Like, about the ladies stuff?"

PSA: About to head into female territory and references to lady parts will probably come up, once or twice.

"Oh, that."

Yes, I admit it, I've been putting off having "the talk," and with good reason, too!

"I mean, I know what the pads are used for, already!"

She is the youngest. She also shares a bedroom (and bathroom) with her two oldest sisters. The girl sees stuff, hears things, even when she's not supposed to and, well, at this point, I'm kind of worn out and really was hoping that maybe she'd sort of just, you know, figure it out.

"It's so you could catch the pee you missed and sort of drips off, right?"

[sound of crickets]

Aaaaaand, so, Hope and I had a really nice chat, last night, and, I am happy to report that pee was not even mentioned.

"Remember when I was little and you used to give me a bath?"

[heavy sigh]

"Aaaand, you pulled my pants off and I made you scream?"

[eyes go wide]

"Because, I wanted to be like Holly and Heather, so I put a pad on!"

[bites lower lip]

"Except, I put it on…sticky side up."

Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.

"Aaaaand, you laughed so hard, you fell backwards and hit your head!"

True story (it hurt!) and I'm sure it won't be the last time she tells it, either.

"Why aren't you laughing, mommy?"

Stupid puberty!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

FRESHLY-BREWED REVIEW: Breaking the Silence of Abuse, Depression and Suicide

February 22, 2011
You Say Bribery, I Say Schmibery
Either Way, It’s All UPPERCASE To THEM!

My youngest loves to make lists; this one from the day after New Year's, when my husband came down with another mancold.

Living in a houseful of girls, who insist that shoving stuff into corners and hiding dirty clothes under the bed is, you know, cleaning, I sometimes forget that we have a son.

I don't mean, like, I forget to pick him up from school (which is a good thing, seeing as my kids go to four different schools) or, that he's not listed on our tax forms, or anything.

It's just that, you know, boys are different.

Although, I really DO have trouble remembering which is which.

Whose idea was it to pick girls names, all starting in the same letter, anyway? Oh, wait. that was me, never mind.

Aaaaanyway, what was I saying?

[watches dust bunnies dancing in the sunlight]

Oh, yeah. The boy's room is almost always clean and WTH is it with Ladies Rooms, anyway, RIGHT?

[sound of crickets, chirping]

So, raising 2 teens and 2 tweens, I seem to have also picked up the annoying habit of, you know, SPEAKING LOUDLY!

"What's for dinner?"

"Pork chops and apple sauce."

[5 mins later]

"What's for dinner?"

[sigh]

"Pork chops."

[10 mins later]

"What's for dinner?"

[heavy sigh]

"Pork."

[one beat, two beats]

"What's for…"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

[covers ears]

"Ooooookay. Why you hollerin'?"

See, no wonder kids think parents are weird, or, maybe it's just me (shuddup!) but, I'm happy to say, that I have recently happened upon a brand new parenting tactic.

Long story, short (I know, too late, thanks for reading and has anyone ever told you how pretty you really, are?) bribery was not involved.

"What's wrong with Heather?"

"She's sick."

Then, my 17 year-old woke up with a migraine.

"What's wrong with Holly?"

"Sick."

Then, my 12 year-old son got down on his knees and began to beg.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze, I've only had one sick day!"

To save time, I didn't even bother waking up the 9 year-old (you know, what's her name, kinda short, sort of looks like me, likes to make lists?) and instituted a "mental health day," at the beginning of this week, with one proviso:

"You will have to clean your room and I mean holiday clean!"

Aaaand, I didn't even have to use UPPERCASE!

[cough, cough]

"What's the matter with Glen?"

The kids have a 4-day weekend.

"He's sick."

And, were all supposed to sleepover my parent's house.

"But, we still get to sleep over, right?"

To save time, I didn't even bother to get dressed.

"Where's Glen."

"Oh, he's home, watching pay-per-view, waiting for me, some chocolate donuts and a medium-sized coolata, DAMMIT!"

My parents didn't even bother to ask why I was still wearing my pajamas.

Morale of Story: Why, yes, I am totally full of pork chops…AND APPLESAUCE!

Stupid 4-day weekends.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

Freshly-brewed Review: Breaking the Silence of Abuse, Depression and Suicide

February 19, 2011
And You Thought Soccer Moms Where Bad
My husband, Garth (not his real name) and I were thrilled to learn that our son joined the middle school wrestling team for a couple of reasons:
- He's got 3 sisters
- It gets him out of the house and away from me and his 3 sisters (okay, mostly me!)
- He's been a big WWE fan since the 4th grade (I think!)
- No tryouts (i.e. everyone makes the team!)
- Refer to first two bullets, above
Watching some other kid try and kick the living Axe out of my son, not so much.

"Isn't that your son?"

[cringe]

"I'm not sure."

Because, I was too busy covering my eyes and, well, cheese and rice, but I thought soccer was bad.

Until, the other team gets a point.

"Yep, that's him."

The boy tries really hard and I tend to wonder if maybe I should be a little more aggressive in cheering him on, like soccer?

"OUCH, you see how that kid's head bounced off the mat!"

Wrestling, however, is much different.

"Throw him down!"

I'm not saying that wrestling parents are any better, or worse, than other sports families.

"Throw him down…HARD!"

It's just not the same, you know?

"OUCH, that must of hurt!"

So, I unlaced my fingers, pulled my hands away from my face, waited the few seconds for my eyes to adjust and realized…yep…it was indeed my son's head they were all waiting for to, you know, explode.

"Get outta there!"

I had my youngest on my lap and felt her startle a bit at, you know, my finally finding my voice (me, too!)

"Like a wiggle worm, bud!"

[eyes go wide]

And, my friend, sitting next to me, punched me in my arm…HARD…and, you know, it hurt.

"Are you trying to get your son beat up?"

Aaaaand, only when my oldest, sitting on the other side of me, started laughing, did I finally realize that, you know, maybe soccer isn't so bad, after all.

"….like a bad-assed, rabid, wiggle worm, bud!"

Or, maybe, next time, I should just stay home and send my husband, instead?

So, I did.

"So, how'd it go?"

Aaaaand, only when my son's frown, turned upside down (whoops, sorry!) I mean, gave the biggest mofo grin, did I realize that, you know, I was totally being faked out.

"I WON!"

[eyes go wide]

Really? After all these months of my, giving "That's okay," and "Maybe next time," late night, pep talks, driving home from yet another defeat?!?

"DAMNIT!"

[cringe]

"I mean, I'm sorry I wasn't there to see it!"

This is the last week of wrestling season and I can't say that I'm not a little thrilled to, you know, see it end.

[cell phone rings]

Yesterday was their last "home" meet and my friend called to tell me that it ended early (DAMMIT!) and if I wanted her to bring my son home.

"Did we win?"

[pause]

"Uh, no."

[one beat, two beats]

"Yes, please!"

What? It's not like I forgot to pick my son up, on purpose, or anything, right…oh, and I guess soccer and wrestling are more alike…than I thought…huh?

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Stupid sports!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
February 16, 2011
The Maude Squad

WHAT?!? I know. But, it's been a looooooooooooong, cold, winter and, well, the novelty of playing in the snow has worn off, two storm systems ago, to the point where my two youngest are actually, you know, playing with their Christmas gifts.

Please understand that I am in no way advocating gun play…for real…my children are old enough to know the difference and, as you can see, they are also wearing protective eye gear.

Okay, now that we're clear, continue making yourself comfortable and let's talk about sex education.

[the sound of many doors, slamming]

Believe me, having had the talk and embarrassing my two oldest children with stories of how my Eastern European-raised parents and I, you know, did NOT talk (about sex, or anything to do with one's body, from the neck, down, I mean) hence, my believing that…OMG!…French kissing WILL get you pregnant…so, yeah, trust me…I know how you feel!

Personally, I sort of like reinforcing the fact that we, older parental-type units have our hangups, too.

It's hard, you know?

On the one hand, I want to be totally open with my children (sort of) then, again, it's hard to decide how much information they really need to hear, or not. Not to mention, control when, where and who they, you know, hear it from (DAMMIT!)

So, we were watching The Golden Girls the other night.

SLAM!

WHAT?!? I know. But, they also enjoy watching the History Channel, along with Broadway musicals on PBS (yes, WITH ME!) and, well, I believe in providing my children with a well-balanced television viewing experience, too (i.e. no iCarly…EVER!)

"What's impotent mean?!?"

Et tu, Golden Girls?

"Go ask Daddy."

WHAT?!? I already had the talk…twice…YES!…with my son, too!

It's time my husband, Garth (not his real name) ponied up a little help from his end of the gene pool, too.

His explanation?

"You know how what happens sometimes when you first wake up in the morning?"

Oh, wait, this IS gonna be good!

"Well, when a person is impotent, it sometimes doesn't happen, anymore."

[eyes go wide]

"You mean…THEY CAN'T PEE ANYMORE?!?"

SNORT!

Yes, I mean, NO, I explained it a little better (I think!) after I stopped laughing, long enough to blow my nose, compose myself and, you know, speak, of course!

"Mommy, what's impotent mean?"

My 9 year-old daughter, not so much.

"Something we can talk about…later!"

WHAT?!? It does NOT get any easier. I mean, seriously, they don't start teaching sex education until the 5th grade and, well, she IS my youngest and probably knows way more than I do, already.

[sound of crickets chirping]

Wonder what's on Biography, tonight?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

February 7, 2011
Sundays in My City:
Beware the Icicle Slayer

I know, I know, enough with the snowmaggedon posts, already. Still. This winter has made for some really beautiful pictures — here in Jersey, anyway — like these ice swans captured by my 15 yo, in our backyard, the other day. She's majoring in photo journalism and, well, the girl has a great eye, no?

Oh, and the icicles? They are EPIC this year. I'm so glad I took this shot outside our den/guestroom/laundryroom/playroom…before they ALL melted.

Or, before my oldest (a.k.a. Holly the Icicle Slayer) got her hands on them and, truth be told, having caught a glimpse of her darkside, you'd never know that, IRL, she's really an Italian literature and arts major, right?

I was a little frightened for the wreath's safety.

So, I thought it was probably a good idea to, you know, step back and put down my brand new camera, frigalicious as it is (yes, it's a word!) not to mention, put away the rest of the Christmas decorations…I know…shuddup!

But, not before grabbing this shot, as she claimed her trophy and, well, thank goodness her little brother wasn't home to, you know, turn it into a weapon and pretend it was an ice saber, or something.

Before it melted, of course — Happy Sunday!!!

To see other scenes from around the world, check out Unknown Mami’s Sundays in My City.

Oh, and feel free to clean off a chair, sit down and visit my photo journal or my Flickr photostream.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

February 6, 2011
You See, This is EXACTLY Why I Love Reading Other People’s Blogs!

It's been a rough couple of days/weeks/months here at This Full House of sticky socks and crunchy feet.

Without going into too much detail (you're welcome!) for fear of boring you to the point where you experience permanent decrease in vision, or your head explodes (I know, too late, stay with me here, just a little longer, okay?) it's just the typical drama that goes along with living in close quarters, in the wintertime and raising kids, who are old enough to, you know, talk back.

Which, in the long term, is a good thing, seeing as my children will most definitely display brilliant moments of absolute resilience or, at the very least, be able to hold their own in a conversation.

Me, not so much.

I'm just too gosh-darned tired to argue and, may the parenting gods on high forgive me, but, I sort of like it when I hear other seemingly rational and somewhat more educated people, you know, complain about their kids.

Inevitably, the guilt sets in, hard, and typically in the darkest of moments — like, hearing when a family in one of our schools suddenly loses a child — and, well, I just can't imagine living without either one of mine.

Until, the next time my oldest is running late, my son leaves his jacket behind, or my youngest interrupts a conversation, while my husband, Garth (not his real name) and I try to convince my middle girl that parents are NOT, you know, as dumb as we seem (which is most days, btw) well, every day, it's something, right?

[sound of crickets chirping]

So, there I was, just sitting here, at my desk, minding my own business (sort of) reading other people's blogs (hence, last parenthesis) when the most amazingly fantastical thing happened.

The sun came out.

Then, suddenly…um…uh…funny, I sort of forgot what the heck was bothering me in the first place.

Aaaaand, well, I just love that, you know?

Happy Love Thursday!

UPDATED TO ADD: Due to a sports-related emergency (Gatorade blew up in son's gym bag) he found his jacket in the front office, today (YAY!) but, seems to have misplaced one of his wrestling shoes (Ummmmm) bet you didn't know they cost an arm (possibly a leg, even) or, that there was such a thing as wrestling shoes, either, right?!?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

February 3, 2011
Do I Love Him?

I haven't slept with Garth (not his real name) since, Christmas!

[eyes go wide]

In the same bed, I mean, SHEESH!

We've been married for 20 years and, well, as Doofus is very willing to demonstrate (DAMMIT!) the couch can be pretty comfy, too.

Still, our kids are getting older, we're feeling old-ish (more and more, everyday, dammit!) I guess life is just rubbing our nerves raw, at the moment.

Okay, you can cut the tension with a cotton ball and the hardest part is, you know, pretending like our kids don't notice.

Oh, we're fine — just in case you were wondering or someone closely related to us happens to wander in here and read into stuff he, or she really shouldn't.

SLAM!

It's just real hard to wake Garth (not his real name) once he sits down, poor guy, so it's just easier to let him sleep with the dawg, while I watch Fiddler on the Roof, for the bazillionth time, right?

[the sound of crickets chirping]

Still, it also raises one very important question:

(Garth NHRN)
Do you love me?

(Me)
Do I what?

(Garth NHRN)
Do you love me?

(Me)
Do I love you?
With kids in 4 different schools
And this cruddy flu going around
You're upset, you're worn out
Go inside, go lie down!
Maybe it's indigestion

(Garth NHRN)
"I'm asking you a question…"

Do you love me?

(Me)
I'm a dork!

(Garth NHRN)
"I know…"

But do you love me?

(Me)
Do I love you?
For twenty years I've washed your clothes
Cooked your meals, cleaned your house

PAUSE: Okay, so Garth (not his real name) does ALL of this too (maybe, even more) but, that's NOT the point, here! Continue:

Given you children, milked the cow (no, not really, SHEESH!)
After twenty years, why talk about love right now?

(Garth NHRN)
The first time I met you
I didn't think we'd last the day
I was scared

(Me)
I was shy

WAIT A MINUTE: Okay, for those of you who knew me B.C. (before children) you can all STOP laughing now! Continue:

(Garth NHRN)
I was nervous

(Me)
Truth be told, so was I

(Garth NHRN)
And now I'm asking,
Do you love me?

(Me)
But, I'm such a dork!

(Garth NHRN)
"I know…"
But do you love me?

(Me)
Do I love him?
For twenty years I've lived with him
Fought him, laughed with him
After twenty years the couch is his
If that's not love, I ask you, WHAT IS?

(Garth NHRN)
Then you love me?

(Me)
I suppose I do

(Garth NHRN)
And I suppose I love you, too

No, it doesn't change a thing, but even so, after twenty years, it's sorta nice to know — not to mention, hear myself say it out loud, pretend my blog is a stage and that I sing REAL good, too!

Move over, Doofus (the dawg, I mean!)

© 2003 – 2011 ThisFullHouse.com

January 21, 2011
Sundays in My City: Winter Blues

Smoke 'em if you got 'em!

To see other city scenes from around the world, check out Unknown Mami’s Sundays in My City.

Oh, and feel free to clean off a chair, sit down and visit my photo journal or my Flickr photostream.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping

January 16, 2011
Hump Day Diddy Dumbs:
The Sound of Mucinex

The kids tag-teamed being sick over holiday break and, at last count, it was my youngest daughter's turn…shhhh, but don't tell her, okay?

Oh, not to worry, we experienced bright and shiny non-crud-filled moments, together, too.

Like, during our annual New Year's Eve movie marathon, we watched Fiddler on the Roof and one of our (okay, my) ALL time favorite musicals, ever, The Sound of Music.

That's a combined total of 355 minutes (or, 5.916666667 hours) of unadulterated, pure as alpine mountain air, nerdy nirvana and, well, yes, we are THAT family of geeky Broadway buffs blurting out lines from old show tunes at the dining room table.

Wanna come for dinner? No problem. Dress casual. Bring a face mask.

Aaaaand, for your musical pleasure, here's a little something, just for you, with slightly adjusted verbage, to compliment the suckage:

Yes, we're barely alive with the help of Mucinex
With muck we have flung for like a thousand years
The crud fills their lungs with the sound of mucus
My heart feels like it's gonna drown with every cough it hears

It makes me want to beat the creeping crud out of them
just from total lack of sleep
I just want them to breath (dammit!)
makes parent teacher conferences seem like a breeze

To cough so hard it makes them trip and fall
god I hate that their feeling this way
To cough through the night
and sleepwalk through the rest of the day

I go to the pills when my heart feels all achy
I know I will hear what I've heard before
Their lungs will be blessed with the sound of Mucinex
And I'll sleep once more

Dinner's at 6-ish, you're welcome!!!

[This is an unpaid, unsponsored and undoubtedly the dorkiest post I've written in, well, what day is it? Aaaaaanyway, just be glad I didn't post the video I made of myself, you know, singing it, stupid sleep deprivation.]

© 2003 – 2011 This FULL House Blog / This FULL House (Re)Views

January 5, 2011
Curse While You’re Thinking
It Saves Time (In Jersey, Anyway!)

Queen Latifah (love her!) gives a really great interview in Parade Magazine, this week:

"There's something about growing up in New Jersey that prepares you for whatever you might encounter around the world. We're not afraid to go places."

Having lived in Jersey, all my life, I feel it safe to say, "What she said!!!"

Contrary to what many other people may think (about people from Jersey) specifically, about moms like me…ahem…we really do know how to use our words and, although we tend to speak with our hands, some of us more than others…ahem…Jersey Girls know how to use their inside voices, too.

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Unless, you've had someone home, sick, since Christmas Eve and then get dumped on by 3 feet of snow (a.k.a. Snowmaggedon) causing you to convince a typically understanding 15 year-old (note: she was the one sick on Christmas) that…YES!!!…celebrating unbirthdays is waaaay cool (IS SO!) oh, and that shopping for last minute New Year's Eve snackage is awesome AND fun (see previous parenthesis) then, some unfortunate a$$hat decides to take your parking space.

[inhales]

You know, the one you've been patiently waiting on for the last eleventy hours.

"ARE YOU FRICKIN' KIDDING ME!"

[puts car in park, rolls up sleeves, swallows gum]

"What are *bleep*ing blind, can't you see me *bleep*ing waiting ovuh-heh?"

[inhales]

"Yah, well, a very Happy *Bleep*ing New Year, to you, too, you morrrrrrr-RON!"

Aaaand, this is about the time I remembered that, you know, my 15 year-old was still in the car and, judging by the look on her face, I just earned myself another reason why I won't be accepting Mother of the Year, again, or anytime soon, for that matter.

[rolls window down]

"Yeah, what SHE said!"

Then again, looking on the bright side, my kids are getting older and, well, worst case, they won't be afraid to call out bad behavior when the see it.

[rolls window up]

"Um…what the heck is an A$$hat?"

Aaaand they seem to be able to show much more restraint than, you know, their mother, already.

"Someone who says or does something, stupid, without thinking."

On the other hand, the lesson would have been MUCH MORE effective if, you know, I had thought to roll the window down…first.

"Can I say it?"

[one beat, two beats]

"Only if someone really, really deserves it!"

So, Happy New Year, everyone…except you.

[rolls down window]

"You stupid, parking-space-stealing, a$$hat!"

What she said!

© 2003 – 2011 This FULL House Blog / This FULL House (Re)Views

January 2, 2011