This Full House Archive

Tag: new jersey mom bloggers

  • It’s Not The Years, HONEY – It’s the Mileage!

    My husband, Garth (not his real name) and Wayne (also not his real name, see what I did there?) met sometime around 1st grade.  They lived a couple of blocks away from each other and, throughout their elementary, middle school and high school years, remained the best of friends.

    Then Garth (NHRN) asked Wayne (NHRN) to help him move into his college dorm, inviting a mutual friend along (Tia, not her real name either) knowing that his friend Wayne (NHRN) had a secret crush on her and that the feeling was mutual.

    Note:  I feel it safe to say, having successfully conveyed the fact that no one in this story would willingly care to be associated with my blogging (no, I can't say as I blame them), I feel it unnecessary and quite cumbersome in my continuing to use the (NHRN) acronym (you're welcome!)

    Wayne and Tia were married a few years later and asked Garth to be their best man.  Garth and I were dating for about a month when he asked me to attend the christening of Wayne and Tia's first born son.

    Garth and I were engaged a few months later (he had me at, so you want to go out to dinner or something?) asked Wayne to be the best man at our wedding and then, a few years after that, we asked both Wayne and Tia to be Godparents to our middle girl.

    Wayne and Tia moved back to the old neighborhood to raise their kids, into a house down the street from my in-laws, while Garth and I had two more children, catching up to Wayne and Tia in requesting a table for six (or twelve, on those rare occasions we would eat out, all together).

    At this point in time, we started referring to our pregnancy time lines to keep track of each other's milestones or whenever we'd share stories about the summers our families spent vacationing together.

    Then, one day, something changed and we did not speak or see each other for the next ten years.

    What the hell happened?  Honestly, I couldn't tell you.  Garth and I still don't really know and would be hard-pressed to come up with an answer that would make any sense.  

    The only thing I can tell you, for sure, is that Wayne and Tia had disconnected themselves from most everyone, at that time (especially, family) and, as awful as this is going to sound, Garth and I took some solace in wondering (more like, hoping) maybe it wasn't "just us".

    Still, all was NOT lost, as we continued to exchange Christmas cards and then leave our happy birthday wishes for each of their kids…on the answering machine.  

    Then we stopped calling.

    Garth and I would see Wayne, from time to time, while driving past his and Tia's house (considering they still live down the corner from my in-law's) and catch glimpses of their kids, who would wave at us and perhaps wonder if we had moved or where we had gone.

    Then they stopped waving.

    Even longer story, shorter (seriously, I'm almost done) Garth and I received an invitation to Wayne's suprise 50th birthday party with a note:  although there has been distance in our relationship, you are both forever in our hearts and the boys and I know Wayne would love to have you at his party — hope you will join us!

    Garth and I were both silent on the drive to the restaurant on Saturday night, wondering if we would know any of the people attending the surprise party, whether or not anyone would recognize us and just what in the hell WAS it that robbed these two best friends of the last ten years, anyways?!?

    We walked into the restaurant, were greeted with a roomful of blank faces and, as terribly awful as this is going to sound, again took solace in knowing (or, at least, we were pretty sure) nope, it wasn't "just us".

    Garth hugged his Godson and asked if there would be any family attending the party?

    "You're it, Uncle Garth."

    [lump meet throat]

    Then it hit me, like a well-deserved bitchslap upside the head:  years after moving out of the house I grew up in, I never quite understood why my parents insisted on visiting "the old house" and then call to tell me just how bad it really looks.

    Until, the day the kids and I took a quick detour, were stunned into silence and then spent the rest of the drive home…remembering.

    It's sort of the same with Wayne and Tia:  no matter how broken, battered or beaten-up life gets us (seriously, a lot can happen in ten years, yes?) our friendship has good bones.

    Aaaaaand, yes, they happen to be getting older and more fragile by the minute (our bones, I mean, and us too, I guess) but, we STILL look good….DAMMIT!!!

    © 2003 – 2013 This Full House

  • A Girls Night, Inside Out!

    We attended a family get-together a few years ago, to commemorate the passing of Garth’s (not his real name) Uncle, and — although we very rarely get the chance to visit with Buzz and Lucy — we saw it as an opportunity to introduce our kids to another branch of their family.

    All in all, considering the circumstances and even though I managed to back our minivan into a decorative boulder (I swear, the size of my youngest, dammit!)  it turned out to be a really lovely late-summer day and we were all a little sad to go.

    Until, my Cousin-in-Law insisted that we come back for Christmas (yes, even AFTER my breaking their driveway!) and, well, one or more of us may or may not have volunteered to help clean up and perhaps stay…you know…until then, or maybe even for forever.

    Her home is a beauty to behold and I say that without a speck of jealousy.

    Envy, YES!    Still, for as expansive as the house really is (their wine cellar is bigger than my bedroom, no joke!) warmth and joy, not to mention their ability to make family and friends feel very, very special, emit from every square inch of their home.

    Cousins Weekend Table

    All this for a girls night in, see what I mean?!?

    My sister-in-law and I were invited back up for a girls-night-in, last weekend.  We had a really great time, got our toes done, did a little window-shopping afterward, got into our pajamas (guess whose idea THAT was, go ahead, I’ll wait) and then we ALL settled in for the night with two of my MOST favorite things:  tapas and wine.

    Later, we retreated into her gourmet kitchen, making sure to keep as far away from the pretties and breakables as possible (okay, mostly me) and then we whipped up Aunt Lucy’s recipe for homemade cauliflower mac and cheese.

    Aaaaaand, I was feeling all sorts of warm and cozy, until…rumble…gurgle…blurp…OH NO!!!

    “Excuse me, but I’m going to have to say goodnight.”

    [eyes go wide]

    “I seemed to have hit a wall.” 

    However, I managed to make it upstairs, before my insides decided to turn our girls-night-in…inside out.

    I was sick for the rest of the night and you would NEVER have known it (I mean, seriously, you can hear the dog pass gas from the other side of our house) until the next morning.

    Even longer story, short (you’re welcome) my Cousin-in-Law was all sorts of gracious, feeding me antacids and pain-relievers for breakfast, helping me feel less and less like a dork by the minute, and even invited me back for another sleepover.

    “Why don’t you bring the kids, next time, too.”

    Because, you know, they have a much pickier pallet and maybe then I would think twice before over-indulging…like a dumbass.

    Note to Self:  Never…EVER…mix goat cheese, cauliflower and smoked artichoke hearts with Pinot Grigio.

    Well, at least I did NOT break anything…right?!?

    [sound of crickets, chirping]

    Stupid smoked artichoke hearts, dumbass Pinot Grigio.

    © 2003 – 2013 This Full House

  • It’s All Fun and Games, Until the Clowns Show Up

    Romperclownsillo-big

    photo credit: TVParty.com

    I have suffered from insomnia for most of my life (yes, that is a very long time, I know, shuddup!)  however, rather than fight it, I see it as a gift and make all of those extra sleepless hours as productive as possible.

    PSYCHE!!!!!!!  

    Bwahahahahahahaha…I crack myself up…you seriously did NOT think I was serious, seriously, right?!?

    The ONLY thing productive at dark o'clock is the gerbil, running its eleventy-hundreth little iron gerbil marathon, inside my head.

    It's not like I'm not tired, either.  In fact, my body clock quits work sometime around 4 in the afternoon and my eyes punch out no later than that really, really great television series EVERYBODY has been talking about and I've been dying to watch…DAMMIT.

    For example:  last night, there was something on television I wanted to watch (of course I can't remember, for the life of me, what it was, but that's not really all that important at his juncture of my insomnia story)  so, I went upstairs to get my glasses.

    I had to lie across the bed to reach them.  Aaaaaand, well, I never got up.  Or, came back downstairs.  Until I had to go pee at dark o'clock.

    Did I mention, our bathroom is downstairs and way across the OTHER end of the house?!?

    By the time I got back upstairs, the gerbil inside my head had already finished with its warm-up exercises and I began to rearrange the ENTIRE floor plan (of the house, not my head)  in my head.

    So, I did what any red-blooded insomniac would do:  I hit Facebook…HARD!…and a really funny  (not ha-ha-funny, but more like, hmmmmm…interesting)  thing occurred to me.

    I am NOT the only one awake at dark o'clock.  I see Kim, Jenn and Elizabeth.  

    That reminds me.  Does anyone remember the magic mirror?!?  Gosh, but I used to LOVE that show.  Even though the magic mirror NEVER saw me…DAMMIT!

    [sound of crickets, chirping]

    I see Robyn.  Oh, and I see my friend Lisa…YO!!!!…was up at the SAME exact time I am, right now.

    "If asleep by 9, awake at 3:39." Did Ben Franklin write that…

    So, I commented with something like, good morning, because I am ALL witty AND original like that, especially at dark o'clock.

    "Hi Liz!  I wish I could vacuum…"

    And then I snorted…REALLY LOUD…and, well, I better go before Garth (not his real name) wakes up and I have to pretend like it was the house farting, or something…SNORT!!!

    [cringe]

    Dammit.

    © 2003 – 2013 This Full House

  • Sometimes at night, I can still hear Karma laughing

    I have a pretty good sense of humor about stuff, to the point of annoying other folks (or possibly even scaring a couple of children)  into silence while thinking, "What IS that woman grinning about?!?"

    Then again, I live in Jersey, it's probably more like, "Wha'chew lookin' at?!?"

    [one beat, two beats]

    Willis.

    [sound of crickets, chirping]

    Aaaaanyway, I can't help it, it's like there is a sitcom playing in an infinite loop, in my head.

    Frankly, with 3 teens, 1 pretty much teen, and sometimes even other people's kids hanging around, there is almost ALWAYS stuff going on and, well, I would much rather consider all my maniacial laughing as an effective defense mechanism.

    For example, this morning.  Long story, short (you're welcome):

    • Middle girl missed her bus
    • Her school is at least a 30 minute drive
    • Because, in Jersey, we calculate the time it takes to get somewhere, rather than mileage
    • Oldest needed my car and leave for work by 8:00 a.m.
    • My husband needed his car back to leave for work by 8:15 a.m.
    • It is now 7:15 a.m.

    [cue maniacial laughing]

    Aaaaand, apparently, it's hereditary, as we drove past a broken down school bus on the highway.

    Daughter:  You know what would be REAL funny?
    Me:  If that was YOUR bus?
    Daughter:  EXACTLY!!!!
    Both: Bwahahahahahahahaha!!!

    [blank stare]

    Wha'chew lookin' at, Willis?!?  I mean, really, this IS the part of my story, where you begin to feel really, really lucky, about your NOT being able to see inside my head.

    "You left your purse in my car, I saw it when I got to work."

    See what I mean?!?  Seriously, you could ALMOST hear the "sad trombone" AND Karma laughing, right?!?

    "Guess I'm stuck here at home…all by myself…oh darn (grin!)"

    My husband still hasn't texted me back.  Poor guy, must have left his sense of humor at home.

    © 2003 – 2013 This Full House 

  • The Strip (A Vlog)

     

    Because, some blog posts require a visual and I would like for Melisa to be wrong…at least once…dammit!!!  

    WARNING:  Although there is no nudity (seriously, my kids read this crap)  you still may want to make sure any small children are NOT around, or risk their screaming, "Make the scary lady stop," you're welcome!!!

    P.S.:  Aaaaaand, I see now that the captions are ALL wrong (they're showing up, too early) so, I guess you'll have to watch it again, but fast-forward it in your head, to keep up with the captions…or not…because, I am a dork.

    © 2003 – 2013 ThisFullHouse

  • My Goal for 2013: To Keep Blogging, Like It’s 2003

    Entering my 10th year of blogging (seriously, it was hard enough for me to admit/accept my kids entering their double-digits)  I often times compare maintaining a blog to that of nurturing a child:  just imagine if parenting came with spell-check and a delete button, eh?

    Some years are more difficult than others, then there are those times when the suckage runs real deep and all you would need to do is check back in a blogger's archives to realize that one of three things happen:

    • Blogging increases.
    • Posting decreases.
    • Blog shuts down, completely.

    Most especially, around this time of year, when folks begin to re-evaluate the time and effort it takes to nurture a blog, as well.

    Aaaaaand, then there's the added consideration of maintaining an online presence (MOP, for short), while under the influence of suckage.

    As 2012 comes to a close, 63 days post-Sandy and 10 days after the Mayans quit counting (can you blame them?)  I find myself in the totally opposite situation:  clinging to my archives, like a teething child looking for something to bite into (HARD!) and stomping my feet while declaring (in a totally whine-y voice):

    "But, I don't waaaaaaaant to stop blogging AND you can't make me…DAMMIT!"

    (more…)

  • Holidazed by the Chalkboard Project: I blame Pinterest AND @TheNextMartha

    In this house (full as it is)  DIY projects are gauged by three very important factors:

    1.  My husband's analytical mind:  I'd mention something about this or that getting done and then he would agree with me, using graphs and/or spread sheets and then submitting a final paper in nothing less than 1,000 words.

    2.  My patience level:  I have none.  That is to say, with stuff that doesn't work right, after the 17th time and my aversion to reading directions doesn't help any…either.

    3.  Calculating the time it takes to get the job done:  before my husband gets home.

    Needless to say, we're a little behind on our DIY projects (not for the lack of wanting, either)  and, trust me when I tell you, ability has absolutely NOTHING to do with our ever-growing to do list…either.

    Last year…I re-did our bathroom…during Thanksgiving week.

    Okay, I just thought of a 4th import DIY factor:  if it is a holiday week, or not.

    This week, I walked by the garage door and noticed the wallpaper was ripped (DAMMIT!) and who wallpapers a garage door, anyways?!?

    [raises hand]


    (more…)

  • The Christmas Elephant in the Room

    Lucy the elephant

    Lucy the Elephant, she's from Jersey!

    Going to Grandma's house on Christmas Eve has been a Thompson tradition ever since we began adding grand kids to their family tree and every year we would trade-off visiting with my parents, as well:  dinner here, dessert over there, etc…

    My kids are very lucky to have both sets of grandparents in their lives, they know it, we know it and, now that my kids are older (aren't we all?)  I'm beginning to truly understand why our folks look forward to having their grandchildren around them, especially during the holidaze.

    My father would joke with my kids, thanking them for "re-charging" Papa after each and every visit.

    Aaaaaand, as I get older (physically, because mentally I'm still, like, not even out of my teens, yet!)  I'm realizing the same restorative power, every time one of my children insist that I stop whatever it is I'm doing, RIGHT NOW, because he or she NEEDS a hug.

    We had my in-laws over for dinner, last night.  Although they live just a five or ten minute car ride away (because, in Jersey, we speak in the time it takes to get somewhere rather than mileage)  we haven't visited with Grandma and Grandpa since Thanksgiving.

    It's been a tough year for my in-laws.  Just last night, my father-in-law admitted that any and all of the mileage put on their car is for doctor visits and trips to the pharmacy, which is pretty much how my parents spend their days, plus or minus a trip (or twenty)  to B.J.'s.

    This year, my sister-in-law broke the news that Garth (not his real name)  and I would be hosting Christmas Eve (without me, and with good reason)   so, I baked one of my mother-in-law's favorite desserts (chocolate gingerbread cake, and it was good)  to help soften the blow.

    (more…)

  • Pinterest is my….SQUIRREL!!!

    Pinterest has been my time-suck of choice since it first launched in 2010, it really is the perfect social media channel for folks with really, really short attention spans…like me.

    Pinterest Prowess

    In fact, a large part of my day job now involves spending hours and hours flipping through people's Pinterest boards and…well…let me just tell you, it's like throwing open the cabinet doors, clearing a path to the garbage can and telling Doofus-Dawg to "HAVE IT, MY FRIEND"!

    Pinterest is my…SQUIRREL!!!!

    Yesterday, I mentioned something on Facebook about my thinking it was cute how I keep pinning all these holiday recipes on Pinterest, as if…

    Aaaaand, then I realized my FAVORITE thing about Pinterest — it is the perfect playground for snark, most especially around the holidaze:

    (more…)

  • Pushing Buttons, On The Facebook

    It's official, my parents are now on the internet. Or, at least, the 20 minutes of what I was able to show them Sunday night, because it took my husband Garth (not his real name) 2+ hours to actually get them online, which (to folks older than 20) is 2 hours, too long.

    Apu on Facebook

    A few weeks back, after introducing my father to Facebook, Apu immediately began sending messages to family in Hungary.

    It was not the introduction to the internet my parents were expecting — especially, after everyone and my brother insisted that my parents really need to be on the internet — and my father also suffers from "Let's see what happens when I push THIS button" (he's a criminal in elevators) which is pretty much never a good thing, especially on the internet.

    First I showed them how email works, although my mother was the director of the purchasing department for a large packaging corporation (a.k.a. my cosmetic hook-up) pre-retirement, so Anyu was already pretty familiar with it.

    "What's that button do?"

    As far as I know, short of sitting on one's hands, there is no cure for LSWHWIPTB and, combined with the distraction of shiny, pretty, blinkies on sidebars, it can be downright debilitating.

    "What else would you like me to show you?"

    My father is now on "the Facebook" and, as far as I know, he hasn't broken the internet, which really shows a LOT of restraint on Apu's part and, well, I'm pretty proud of him for that, too.

    "Did you show Papa how to leave a comment, or respond and *like* a wall post, on Facebook?"

    [blank stare]

    Aaaaaand, that is why I don't teach people how to use the internet…for a living.

    "Papa also mentioned something about starting a blog, like you, too."

    Although, I do suspect it may have been a defense mechanism on my part.

    "He said, to tell people when they're not doing stuff right."

    I'm not quite sure if the internet is ready for Apu.  Then again, it will certainly keep him occupied — especially, with winter and cabin fever just around the corner — and perhaps even keep my father from pushing my mother's buttons, or vise versa, right?!?

    I'm sitting on my hands, just in case.

     © 2003 – 2012 This Full House