This Full House Archive

Tag: new jersey mom bloggers

  • The #1 Reason Why This Jersey Girl Does NOT Pump Her Own Gas

    My friend, Melisa (with one S) had a really bad run in with a runaway gas pump, yesterday.

    Really, go and give her some love (when you find the time, of course!) because, personally, I can totally relate to her angst.

    I mean, honestly, as a self-professed magnet for attracting really, really embarrassing situations AND considering my talent for breaking things HARD!

    There really is a REAL good reason why this Jersey girls does NOT pump her own gas.

    Reason #1 Why This Jersey girl does NOT pump gas
    Yeah, besides the fact that it's illegal to pump your own gas, here in New Jersey (and Oregon, I think) THIS IS a law suit just waiting to happen.

    "Oh and be sure to stop at the gas station on your way home."

    Now that my oldest daughter is driving?

    "I think it's time you learned how to get gas."

    I think it's real important to know how to pump your own gas and she does (her father showed her how to do it on our last road trip to Cape Cod) just NOT in Jersey.

    "How did you do?"

    [one beat, two beats]

    "Fine, after I let the gas station dude show me how to pop open the gas tank."

    [blank stare]

    Ummmm, yeah, we may or may not have forgotten to show her where to find THAT particular button.

    [sound of crickets]

    WHAT?!?  It's in a really weird spot, way down on the floor (I think!) aaaand, I even forgot, my ownself, the gas station dude had to show me where it was, once or maybe twice, I forget.

    Morale of the Story:  My oldest has decided to pursue a career in art education, as well as attending a college closer to home (YAY!) clearly, she did NOT get her artistic talent from me.

    Stupid gas stations, dumbass cars!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Further Proof Our Life IS a Sitcom
    Or, Would Make a Very Comical Cartoon

    Backstory: Hurricane Irene ripped us a new one (figuratively and literally) damaging our roof and chimney, which now causes our ceilings and the front of our house to leak like a sieve, every time it rains.

    Flashback: to September, which, turns out, was one of the stormiest months we've ever had, here in Jersey (of course!)

    FB Our Own Personal Rain Dance
    Flash-forward: last night, my awesome friend Sue (who also happens to be my next door neighbor, in my dreams, I wish) Facebook's me while I'm out buying lottery tickets.FB Sue Rain Dance

    Missed it (DAGNABIT!) so, through the magic of the interwebs, I go and watch the episode this morning:


    Sorry about the 15 second ad in the beginning (ABC folks gotta keep their lights on, too, I guess) the clip itself is only 30 seconds long and a gosh-darned good example of what it's like to live in our house, when EVERY TIME IT RAINS!!!

    Now, if you'll excuse me, the clouds are beginning to roll in. 

    If anyone needs me, I'll be in the kitchen.  Breaking out the pots and hoping that the insurance check clears and/or ABC calls, sometime, soon!

    Stupid roof, dumbass Irene.

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Maybe She Should Be Happy
    She Has a Job?!?

    Rude CashierLoooong before I had kids and waaaaay before automated teller machines — although, it's kinda weird to call ATM's that, since they don't give out lollipops OR dog bones — I was the senior customer service representative for a large manufacturing company.

    Before that, I was the secretary to the plant manager, as well as various vice presidents and a couple of marketing and district sales managers in their corporate offices.

    Then, the owner was indicted (long story, I hear he pretends he's Elvis now) and, well, I got another job as a, you guessed it, a customer service representative.

    However, this time, for a rather large manufacturer of toilets.

    So, yeah, I have a lot of experience, dealing with customers and their crap, at an executive level.

    I empathize with anyone working in a service-based capacity, whenever dealing directly with the public, because, well, people suck.

    Unless, I happen to be the customer.

    [eyes go wide]

    I took my 17yo shopping last night [shiver] because, the house magically disappeared the ONLY two pairs of jeans that fit and, well, yes, the cashier was probably all like, "UGH, I just want to go home," too!

    Then again, I can't think of ANYTHING else I would rather NOT be doing, than shopping, at 6:00 p.m., on Sunday night, can you?!?

    "We're NEVER going home, you know that, right?!?"

    At first, I thought she was talking to me and I was going to answer her (because, I'm nice like that) but, she was actually talking to the other cashier, who was already checking out the ONLY OTHER person on line.

    [popping her gum]

    "I know, right?!?"

    I am NOT even kidding!  She really DID say that, right in front of me, THE CUSTOMER, while pop-pop-popping her gum and…really?!?

    [rolls eyes]

    "I don't know HOW you guys put up with these people ALL day?!?"

    Again, not directed towards me, THE CUSTOMER, honestly, I was kind of tired and, you know, still sort of confused.

    "Is there a problem?!?"

    [sound of crickets]

    I turned to ask the person behind me if I had magically turned invisible and, well, there was no one there to ask, as I was THE ONLY CUSTOMER BEING CHECKED OUT AT THE TIME.

    "Geez, are they EVER going to make the announcement?!?"

    Honestly, I was all, like  Face7 and, not for nothing, but if I had EVER talked like that, in front of customer, I would have been fired, three times over!

    "What announcement?!?"

    Good, the other cashier was all, like (see face above.)

    [popping gum]

    "You know, that the store is closing?!?"

    [one beat, two beats]

    My turn.

    "Oh, you didn't hear it?!?"

    THAT got both their attentions.

    "They made that announcement about a half an hour ago."

    She tossed me my bag, mumbled something about it being about time and started closing out the sales in her cash register.

    "Have a nicccccccccce night."

    She said, like a blood-engorged snake.

    [whispering]

    "But, I didn't hear any announcement, either, mom?!?"

    Actually, there wasn't.  She had another 30 minutes to go.  

    "Thank you and g'night!"

    I grabbed my daughter's arm, mumbled something about it NOT being my problem the girl doesn't know enough to wear a watch, or check to see what time it is.

    What?!?  Blame me for being old-ish, if you must.  But, the kid needed jeans, otherwise I would have totally left the stuff right there on her counter, without even paying.

    You got a problem wit dat, Skippy?!?

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Nobody Puts Baby in the Dentist Chair

    I hate the dentist.  What?!?  You, too!!!  Seriously, the word Novocaine alone (for me, a dozen pokes, per tooth, minimum) or the thought of anything even remotely associated with drilling a hole, anywhere, is enough to bring a shiver down my spine!!!

    BBBBBRRRRRZZZZZ!!!

    [shiver]

    My middle girl (she's 15) however, couldn't care less, seeing as she's had:

    • Tonsils removed in 2006
    • Was filleted like a fish, from behind, at the base of her spine, to, um, let's just say Heather spent her 13th birthday, during Christmas week, getting used to sleeping on her side (shiver!)
    • It took 18 months, 1 emergency hospital visit and 3 more cauterizations before it FINALLY healed (we hope!)
    • Unlike her oldest sister, needed 4 teeth pulled before being fitted for braces, last year

    So, yeah, Heather's had more blood tests, shots and parts of her body violated by doctors, than me, my husband AND my other kids, combined.

    Did I mention, said doctors happened to be training medical students, at the time, like, in "UGH, really Mom, I mean, I don't even know what MY butt looks like!?!?"

    Although, her father and I like to kid her about being spared less beatings, than her siblings, considering she DOES have the MOST expensive backside (heh!)

    Of course, I kid (sort of) and no, she STILL doesn't find that last sentence, humorous, at all, either, trust me.

    Aaaaanyway, so, I took my youngest kids to the dentist office (FINALLY!) since my oldest kids visit their ortho practice AND because, you know, we LOVE sending OTHER people on vacation.

    [grin]

    They were both a little nervous (me, too!) but, Hope went first (of course!) and then the dentist got down to the nitty-gritty.

    "Blah, blah, blah, slight decay in number blah and blah, also in numbers blah and blah."

    Okay, not for nothing, but I just thought of ANOTHER word that makes me shiver.

    Decay.

    [shiver]

    Poor thing sat there, EYES WIDE, just like that and, honestly, the last dentist just sort of did whatever, made a cool balloon-ey sort of animal, out of a latex glove, gave her a pencil and sent us on our way.

    "We'll have to fix those, right away!"

    This one threw his gloves away.  Then he left.  I'm not sure I like this dentist. 

    So, I whispered to the dental hygenist, just in case.

    "Does decay mean the same thing as cavaties?"

    [eyes go REAL wide]

    "I HAVE CAVATIES?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?"

    PHEW!!!  Hope's hearing, however, seems just fine.  Still, none of my other kids have ever had cavaties (Glen's checkup went fine) so, there's that.

    "Yes, but they're just teeny-tiny ones."

    I do, however, like the dental hygienist. 

    "It's ALL your fault, Mom!"

    Backstory:  Hope went to her first sleepover, called to tell me I packed the wrong toothbrush and I told her to use it anyway, seeing as she is the youngest and, you know, I'm tired.

    [sound of crickets]

    Yeah, the dental hygienist gave me that same exact look, I bet you dollars to donuts, that you're giving me, right now.

    "Baby, it will be alright, trust me."

    Aaaaand, how do I know?  Well:

    • I made the appointment
    • Her Dad is going to take her
    • NO, he doesn't know about it yet, either

    [shiver]

    Enough said.

  • Why Worry When You Can Confuse the Forces of Evil, Instead?!?

    A lot of stuff has been going on, here at Casa de Stinky.  What?!?  You, too?!?  DANG, when will it EVER end, right?!?

    Aaaaanyway, in an effort to not think about stuff (stinky as it is) I tend to move things around. 

    Like, oh, I don't know, shifting chairs, hanging curtains, taking down and rehanging pictures, you know, the little things that require very little physical effort, almost no financial backing or filing of anymore loan applications (UGH!) simple little stuff that just sort of makes me want to, you know, smile.

    Dining Room Corner 1
    Aaaaand, confuses the forces of evil into thinking:  OUCH!…hey, when DID this bookcase get here…didn't we JUST trip over it, in the garage…and LOOK…in and out bins…really…SHE'S GOT BINS…heh, and a coat rack…good luck with that one, right?!?

    [smiling]

    Still, she IS smiling…so, I guess, we best be moving on then, eh…wanna go cause some havoc in the garage, then?!?

    I know, I know, it goes against ALL things Fen Shui (DAGNABIT!) but, as of this week, every corner of my house is officially FULL of stuff and, yet, I somehow find myself gravitating to this one, throughout the day.

    Dining Room Corner 2
    I like to think of it as a little nook of inspiration, decorated simply with my latest dollar store finds and flanked on the right by a picture of my grandmother, someone who my kids adored and miss, very, very much.

    Me, too.

    Also, see how the geraniums in the window are reflected in the photograph?  They were my OTHER grandmother's favorite flower.  So, yeah, weird, right?

    Dining Room Corner 3
    Yes, my house is small.  No, we still don't have any idea when we'll EVER get the stupid chimney fixed, or ceiling, for that matter, oh and the front door is STILL leaking, GAH!

    This. THIS!  It's what my kids and I will see, every morning.  The first place we'll come to and drop our stuff (hopefully) at the end of each day.

    "Oh no, I forgot my speech!"

    My 10 year-old is running for student council president and, well, she also dreams of being an archaeologist, a scientist, or yoga instructor (???) whatever.

    "It's in the dining room."

    Well, at least she knew EXACTLY where it was, so there's that, right?  RIGHT?!?

    [sound of crickets]

    Riiiiight.

    "I read it to Mamama, last night."

    [smiling]

    Enough said.

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Eye of the Tiger Mom

    My oldest daughter is a senior in high school…hang on, while I allow that to sink in or, at least, until I stop shivering…okay, that's better, thanks.

    Aaaaanyway, there is nothing…and I mean ABSOLUTELY NADA…that will bring even the most light-hearted of parental units…crashing back down to earth…faster than a high school graduation and/or college looming over your head.

    Aaaaand, the perverbial glass ceiling being…I am her mother.

    "I need a baby picture for the year book!"

    You've heard of Manic Mondays, right (Bangles, 1986, look it up on Youtube, youngster!)

    "Um, okay, when do you need it?"

    Well, at our house, we celebrate Frantic Fridays.

    "Deadline is today."

    Of course.  Why not?  Never mind that her father is in the car, waiting, or that she should have been at school, 10 minutes ago, OH, and I have absolutely NO CLUE where her baby book is OR if it's even finished.

    Holly June 1994
    Luckily, my youngest (a.k.a. The Informer) pulled this pic pretty much out of nowhere (a'la Houdini) and, well…hang on another second…or 60,000…as my mind begins to race:

    • Was she EVER that little?!? 
    • Did I remember to pack away those adorable baby shoes?!? 
    • What in the world possessed me to get rid of that hat?!?
    • I am SUCH a bad mother!!! 
    • Oh, look, how she's smiling, that's a good thing, right?!?

    The simple act of holding a photo and ALL this (and, MUCH, MUCH more) goes through my mind (it's a gift!)

    Revisiting stuff, like, maybe I should have done [insert stuff] differently.

    Or, stuff I didn't do, in the last almost 18 years, like, take her to Disney (I mean, really, every kid SHOULD go to Disney, right?!?)

    "Oh, look how cute I was."

    Still is (are?) albeit, frustratingly flighty at times and perpetually late…hey, wait a minute…apple, meet tree!!!

    "DUH-DUM..DUM-DUM-DUM…DUM-DUM-DUM…DUHHHHH-DUM!"

    Holly snatched the photo from my hand and I turned, a little too quickly (I suffer from severe internal bedhead, too) but, managed to grab my camera in time for the second chorus:


     

    The leaky roof, cracked ceilings, busted water heater, renovation projects that have gone unfinished for, well, uh, did I mention, we've got a kid, turning 18, next month (I think?!?)

    NOPE, wouldn't trade ANY of it…NADA!…at this very moment…for all the dry wall and/or spackle mud in the world.

    The fact that my 10-year-old even knew the words to Eye of the Tiger (Survivor, 1982, shuddup) which came out the same year I graduated high school?!?

    [shiver]

    PRICELESS and more than just a little freaky, right?!?

    © 2003 – 2011 This FULL House

  • Wordless Wednesday: Stolen Kisses

    You're Messing With His Cool! When teen girls mess with a 12-year-old boy's cool:  funny (i.e. future blackmail) family photos happen!

    Happy (Nearly) Wordless Wednesday, everyone!

    © 2003 – 2011 This FULL House

  • Aaaaand Now a One Act Play
    Performed by Two Turtles

    One of the many perks of raising older kids, besides the fact my husband and I have seen each of ours reach double digits and are STILL amazed at our even being able to, you know, count that high.

    Okay, mostly me.

    Aaaaanyway, we've tried to raise them to be independent, or at the very least, able to pretty much take care of themselves (get dressed, feed themselves, remember to brush their teeth, take their showers before bed and use soap, the last three being mostly for my son) if need be, and work as a team, if necessary.

    This week, the need be necessary.

    I have been in and out of the house, helping out a dear friend of mine, all week, in fact, I'm not home, right now.

    I was, for a few minutes, long enough to pack an overnight bag, kiss Garth (NHRN) when he got home from work (on the lips, REAL HARD!) and, well, then I left.

    On the one hand, it's nice to be able to focus my attention (used in the singular, on purpose) wherever it is needed the most, at any given moment.

    On the other hand, ummmm, what was I saying, again?

    Aaaaanyway, I bought my laptop along, thinking this would be the perfect time to catch up on reading some of your blogs and, in turn, allow you guys to, you know, help keep me amused (thankyouverymuch!)

    So, once my friend settled in for the night, I fired it up.

    Grrrr… even though we recently invested in a new desktop, my kids STILL insist on accidentally borrowing my laptop on purpose.

    Seriously, sometimes being away from home, alone, is good.

    Until, I read the note pinned to a new document:  Hope's Madlib, in case you get bored, I hope you like it.

    PATIENT: Thank you so very much for seeing me, Doctor Thompson, on such pretty notice.

    DENTIST: What is your problem, young Bruno?

    PATIENT: I have a pain in my upper big bow, which is giving me a severe belly ache.

    DENTIST: Let me take a look. Open your heart wide. Good. Now I'm going to tap your Gabi with my dog.

    PATIENT: Shouldn’t you give a cat killer?

    DENTIST: Its not necessary yet. Yeah! I think I see Walmart in your upper neck.

    PATIENT: Are you going to pull my earring out?

    DENTIST: No I'm going to sneeze your tooth and put in a temporary globe.

    Patient: When do I come back for the ugly filling?

    DENTIST: A day after I cash in your tennis ball.

    On the one hand, it's a simple little Madlib and, well, big deal, right? 

    On the other hand, the fact that it was supposedly performed by two turtles, yeah, doesn't change things much, unless, you know, they're naked (Gawd, I love that kid!)

    Thankmeverymuch.

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • I Give Good Face(s)

    My husband, the kids and I were ALL having a nice, quiet, leisurely dinner at the dining room table the other night.

    [blank stare]

    Okaaaaay, so, maybe the kids weren't actually at the table.

    [eyes go wide]

    Fiiiiiiine, they were all out eating at other people's houses.

    [taps foot]

    Buuuuut, my husband and I were eating…uh…standing up.

    [sound of crickets chirping]

    Aaaaanyway, my husband was in the middle of telling me a story about something that happened at his work the other day and then ended it, very abruptly.

    "What's the face for?"

    [blink, blink]

    Honestly, I wasn't even aware of my giving a face.

    "Which face?" 

    I can't help it.  Part of it stems from my being raised by Hungarians, a culture whose emotional heritability increases exponentially.

    "THAT FACE, right there!"

    Seems some of the kids were home…early…and immediately began to throw their mother (that would be me) right under the proverbial bus.  Apparently, I have six (6) distinct faces, which they then began to categorize, thusly:

    The Face Collage A-F 
    A = Awesome:  For those moments of pure joy and one that I would hope most folks are probably pretty much used to seeing, right?  RIGHT?  Riiiiight.

    B = Be Quiet:  One I use when fighting my inner-12-year-old or trying REAL HARD to keep my mouth shut (shuddup!)

    C = Catatonic:  Believe it or not, this is one of my least expressive faces which, come to find out, is a clear sign that I am NOT listening.

    D = DER!:  I've got teenagers, enough said.

    E = EWW:  My most multi-functional expression and can be easily translated from,"What's that smell?!?" to "Meh, I've seen hairier!"

    F = Fear Me:  Thankfully, I don't use this one very often (DO NOT!) but, one my kids, my husband, the dog and whoever else manages to bring out the Jersey in me (YO!) fear the most.

    Oh, and jackwagons  who insist on double-parking in the drop-off lane, THIS is the one you'll most likely see from your review mirror, complete with its own personalized set of eye baggage and everything!

    You feel me?

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Serving as an Unspoken Example to My Children Since 2003

    I wrote my very first blog post 8 years ago (Happy Belated Blogivesary to me, heh) on September 2, 2003 (at 3:38 p.m.) and poop may or may not have been involved.

    My youngest was still in diapers and, well, it's understandable, really.  Raising 4 kids, under the age of 10, life revolved around my being the center of their world — handling poop was a large part of it — which, thanks to the internet, had just gotten a whole lot smaller.

    I now had the ability to communicate, with other people, over the age of 10, unwashed and in my pajamas (as far as anyone knew!)

    To be given the opportunity to put my thoughts (scattered and nonsensical, as they may have been) into actual words (thanks to spell check) blogging felt empowering AND downright intoxicating, really.

    Minus, the poop, of course.  Especially, for a self-professed, semi-professional, poop-handlers (like me) you know?

    We've shared a lot of stories in 8 years and, now that my kids are older (me, too) perhaps even managed to work in a title, involving just about every major bodily fluid and/or function known to the universe.

    Because, contrary to what most people think (about moms, who happen to write a blog, or twenty, too) it's not ALWAYS about the poop.

    "Grandma's on the phone and she sounds upset."

    My in-laws were in Massachusetts, on their way back home to Jersey, they got hit by another car and my husband could hear the emergency crew trying to get her side of the car open, they got there THAT fast (thank you Holyoke EMT!)

    While my husband showered and prepared to break the record for driving, round trip, thru MA, CT, NY and NJ traffic (enough said) in 9 hours (it CAN be done) my kids took to task.

    My middle girl Googled information for the local authorities, hospital and hotels, while the youngest wrote the information on sticky notes.

    Aaaand, for all the worries about kids today and their fascination with the internet (not to mention, the moms who blog about them) I have to say, it was nice to see mine use their cyberpowers for good in the time it took me to find my dumbass phone.

    Only, because my oldest used her cell phone to call it.

    Gramma & Grampa

    Then, she texted this picture to my husband's cell phone and, I am very,VERY happy to tell you, they are ALL back home and doing fine.

    Morale of the Story:  Potty-training is hard, raising tweens and teens is like [insert bodily fluid and/or function, of choice, here!] in the wind.

    Beeeeeecause, you NEVER know what's gonna get thrown back at you AND it's not always about the poop, anyway.

    Don't believe me?  Rather than telling you about the rest of our horrifically emotional weekend (you're welcome!) I did a quick search:  PUKE WINS!

    Aaaand thank YOU for allowing ME the chance to, you know, share.

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House