Tag: new jersey mombloggers

  • My Brother, The Soldier

    Proud Sister Moment!

    The kids and I attended my twin brother's pinning ceremony and had the great honor of celebrating his recent promotion to Master Sargent, with the troops, on Friday afternoon.

    Red, White, Blue and LOTS of Balloons!!!

    Although, we were ALL very, very proud of him (Go Army!) my son, who wants to grow up to be just like Uncle Bud, was beyond thrilled to have been invited (thank you, Pam!) and, upon our arrival, was more than a little unnerved to find a room filled with soldiers, standing at attention, waiting for us to take our seats, in the front row.

    Me, too!

    "Ummmm…don't be nervous…remember they are just like your Uncle Bud!"

    Steve's Pinning Ceremony April 2011

    You see, although we ALL know how hard my brother has worked, not to mention, all the sacrifices he (and his wife Pam) has made, through the years, to get to this point in his military career (losing a kidney to cancer, along the way) to hear the same acknowledgements and accolades, from his superiors, well, yes, this was a very big deal, indeed.

    Speech, Speech!

    Then, it was Steve's turn to speak and, even though I couldn't help but giggle at the way he kept rocking the podium, back and forth (just a little) I smiled, in affirmation, as the rest of the room was soon made privy to the light-hearted, funny little boy I grew up with.

    "Phew, is it hot in here, or is it just me?!?"

    Then, I was taken aback by his eloquence.

    Pam, Steve and Freedom Bear

    The way he acknowledged my parents as inspirations for ALL of their hard work, raising their children to be proud of their adopted country and for their strong sense of family; recognizing his wife as an equal for her sense of commitment and sacrifice; excelling even his own expectations and promising to work, just as hard, to gain the respect of his men.

    Steve's Pinning Ceremony April 2011

    As a parent, I understand how difficult it is to NOT worry about your child (no matter how grown they are) I believe this is the very first time we ALL saw Steve for the man he really is.

    Go Army!!!

    Aaaand, truth be told, I am so, SO HAPPY that my kids got the chance to celebrate my brother, the soldier, as well, you know?

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Blogged in the Year of Lord-Only-Knows

    I've been spring cleaning the garage (okay, for the last 15 years, but who's counting?) and, as it turns out, I'm also a little behind on updating my kids' baby books.

    This is where you ask me, "So, how far behind are you?"

    Hope's Baby Book

    Seems, my last entry was in 2002, when my youngest daughter took her first steps at 10 months-old.

    Hope is turning 10 years-old, in June.

    However, I started blogging in 2003 and have been consistently posting my family's milestones, since then, so, there's that, right?

    [sound of crickets chirping]

    Like, yesterday was my husband, Garth's (not his real name) birthday, just don't ask me which one (I quit counting sometime around 2004) since, you know, in the end, it's not the years that count, it's the mileage, right?

    [welcome to cricketcon'11]

    Hope's Birthday Card for Garth (not his real name)
    So, while Garth (not his real name) and I were out trolling our favorite garden center, yesterday (stupid rain) Hope made this birthday card for her father — HAH!

    Glen's Birthday Card for Garth (not his real name)

    Our 12-year-old son made him this one and not only does he have his father's sense of humor (28 my left foot!) Glen also appreciates the value of money and its depreciating effects on one's bank account…DAMMIT.

    Heather's Birthday Card for Garth (not his real name)
    My 15-year-old, however, seems to have inherited her Hungarian grandmother's affinity for making people cry…especially, on their birthday.

    Holly's Portrait of Garth (not his real name)
    My 17-year-old daughter drew this brilliant caricature of her father (HAH!) and, now that I blogged about it, I can reflect back and remember what my husband looks like (stupid extended banking hours) also, after uploading the pic, I just noticed that she signs her name to look like a butterfly, too.

    I just love that!

    "Honey, do you remember when we bought the water heater?"

    In fact, I recently found myself referring back to my blog's archives for non-fluff and totally tax related purposes, only.

    "Uh, no, but…wait…I blogged about it…um…okay…back in 2009!"

    Too bad my husband, Garth (not his real name) didn't ask me that question, last year, right?

    Stupid crickets!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • This One Time, At Camp Poopy

    Hope at Pittsgrove 3

    Kids are on spring break, this week (note to spring:  feel free to show up, anytime, now, thanks) and Hope, who has been looking forward to staying with her godparents, to work their iris farm, ran from the car, suitcase in hand and excitedly announced her arrival.

    "I'm ready to spread manure!"

    Yes, the kid loves nature THAT MUCH and I am not even kidding, when I tell you, it's ALL that we, her teacher, the kids in her class, our next door neighbor and the mail carrier, have been hearing about, for weeks.

    Hope at Pittsgrove 4

    Unlike her older sisters, she is not afraid to get dirty and I tease my son that she is actually a lot like what I imagine having a younger brother would be like, too.

    Hope at Pittsgrove 1

    Much to the delight of her godmother, who raised two boys and also happens to be a little bit crunchy…even before crunchy was cool…and often joked about not knowing what to do with a girl.

    Hope at Pittsgrove 2

    So, in my eyes, it sort of fits that fate bring these two together and, truth be told, makes my heart feel a little squishy, knowing that, when all else fails (i.e. my attempting to convince some therapist that my youngest daughter's childhood wasn't really all that bad) Hope will remember this one time, at Pittsgrove Farms.

    Hope at Pittsgrove 5

    When she helped spread manure and really, really liked it.  Actually, I'm not sure what is on her hands and was, at the time, reassured by her godfather that they're really not going to make the kid spread manure…shhhhh…but, don't tell her, okay?

    "Aunt Cheryl made applesauce pancakes, this morning!"

    Uh-oh.

    "You lucky goose!"

    Wait for it.

    "Mom made us ALL eat granola."

    Yes, but we're having waffles…for brinner!!!

    Note to spring:  don't bother, I got this!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Spring Break Day 1: Chocobeast Vs Cheesecakemonster

    I don't know about you…but…scaring the pudding…out of MY KIDS…like this…to the point where they will be up…fighting for leg room…IN MY BED…for the rest of the night?

    You know, there better be a FREAKISHLY LARGE piece of ricotta cheesecake…waiting…just…for…me.

    Just sayin'!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Shoulda Asked the Baby Name Genie

    The girls and I, along with my mom, were invited to a baby shower a few weeks ago and…uh…no…my son was not very happy about it.

    "Why can't I go?"

    [hands on hips]

    "Because, it's for girls ONLY!"

    My 9-year-old, however, was THRILLED…until…the part where they played what turned out to be some pretty fun baby shower games.

    For example, to help break the ice, guests who liked the names their parents chose for them were asked to stand in the living room and those who, you know, unliked their name moved to the dining room.

    My mother (a.k.a. Eva) and I happen to like our names and, even if we didn't, she and I were very happy to stay, right where we were and, you know, not have to lose our seats.

    Besides, it was sort of fun watching my teenagers (a.k.a. Holly and Heather) freeze, then rock back and forth, indecisively, for once.

    What?

    I told them it was perfectly okay if they didn't like their names (eventually) and, since they are 17 and 15, that I would not be offended, in the least, seeing as, at this point in the game, they dislike most everything my husband, Garth (not his real name) and I say, or do, anyway.

    My mother then tapped me on my shoulder, pointed toward the dining room and there was my youngest daughter (a.k.a. Hope) with her arms folded across her chest and standing, right there, in the front row.

    "I wanted to be called Robin!"

    The room burst into laughter (I have that affect on people, sometimes) and, well, shame on me for not listening to her, in the first place and the REAL funny thing is, Robin WAS on our list.

    FLASH FORWARD TO YESTERDAY:  After asking my son to take out the garbage for, like, the eleventeenth time, he just stood there, with arms folded across his chest, in the middle of the kitchen.

    "WHAT?"

    [frowning]

    "You just called me Hope!"

    Really? 

    "Which time?"

    After hollering, for somebody, or anybody, to do something, after all these years, I sort of forget.

    [hands on hips]

    "My name is Glen!"

    I knew that.

    "How come my name doesn't start with an H, like the girls?"

    Because, Heidi wouldn't have worked and I told him that there's a pretty neat story behind the reason why we chose the name, Glen (with one N only, please) but, I will save it for another blog post (you're welcome) also, Hunter Thompson was taken.

    "I know, I know, it means a quiet place for salsa."

    [grin]

    "Actually, it's solace, Hope, not salsa."

    [hands on hips]

    "Actually, it's Robin!"

    UGH!

    "WHATEVER!"

    Apparently, no one says whatever anymore and, I get it, as a parent of teens and tweens, the only thing hip about me is, you know, my hips….or, should is be are…I forget?

    Morale of the Story:  Picking out baby names is hard; having to explain it to your teens and tweens is even harder; just ask the Baby Name Genie!!!

    Because, clearly, Ella Scarlett, Reese Delilha, Layton Maurice and Perla Danielle Thompson sound, you know, waaaaay hipper, right?

    Fiiiiine, but try hollering those names, five times, real fast, go ahead, I'll wait.

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Don’t Make Me Have to Use UPPERGROWL!

    Dog Sitting -- No, Doofus is NOT Happy!

    We're dog sitting for very dear friends of ours and, uh, no Doofus-Dawg is NOT happy and not just because Sassy enjoys sitting in his favorite chair, either!

    Sassy and Glen

    Although, Sassy has stayed with us before, I swear, Doofus is still not finished getting over it, yet and I kinda, sorta think he's a little afraid of her, too.  This time, however, she seems to have grown real attached to my son.

    Photo1696.jpg

    Sassy is at Glen's side, constantly, all weekend and even growled at my youngest daughter for tossing one of her game pieces, in frustration (okay, so maybe it was Hope who growled) but, I still thought she was really being, you know, sort of cute (the dog, I mean!)

    Sassy and Garth (not his real name)

    Until, I cleaned up after dinner with the inlaws and came into the living room to find Sassy lying next to my husband, Garth (not his real name) IN MY SPOT and, when I tried squeezing in, next to them, well, this time, she really DID growl!

     

    Photo1701.jpg

    Yeah, I know, right? Still, you can't help but admire her, uh, self-determination and yes, I realize that she's just another dog with extreme territorial issues and epic gastronomic concerns (especially, when fed too much table food, or cheese…UGH!) on the other hand…I guess the same could be said about a lot of people (ahem) too.

    So, who am I to judge, right?

    [sound of crickets, chirping]

    Yep, it's going to be a looooong week.  I hope Glen gets home, soon!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Feeling Squirrel-y?

    Damn Squirrels!
    I have issues (don't we all?) and, if you were to ask me to list, oh, I dunno, at least 5 of them, off the top of my head, they would be as follows:

    Dirty dishes in the sink:  especially, when the dishwasher is dirty.  Drives me nucking futz, to the point where even my neighbors know when, "THE DISHWASHER IS DIRTY…DAMMIT!

    Silent treatments:  are like nails ripping into chalkboard (you're welcome!) the absolute worst form of torture, right?

    Wet towels on the floor:  especially, when the washer is empty (see dirty dishes, above.)

    Doofus-Dog on the couch:  makes me itchy.

    Squirrels:  ransacking the bird feeders (see picture above) I hate, Hate, HAte, HATe, absolutely freaking HATE squirrels.  Aaaand, they don't like me, either.  How do I know?

    This morning, I was able to address 2 outta 5 of said issues, to my complete and total satisfaction.

    [blank stare]

    The fact my husband, Garth (not his real name) doesn't seem to have these sort of issues, is just plain weird, don'tcha think?

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

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

    Let the Sunshine In

    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

  • Do I Love Him?

    Doofus

    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

  • For the Love of Bubbles

    Loves Bubbles
    Love is waking your laptop to find silly little cabin-fever-induced webcam photos of your teens…all 350 of them (cabin-fever-induced webcam photos, NOT teens, I mean!)

    [shiver]

    Aaaaand, there's more snow on the way?!?

    FLOB!  Seems Mother Nature is in desperate need of a serious attitude adjustment, too…or, a new laptop…whatevs.

    Happy Love Thursday, everyone!

    © 2003 – 2011 ThisFullHouse.com