This Full House Archive

Tag: new jersey momblogs

  • Maybe This Time, She’ll Stay…Parked.

    Last week, I got to spend a few days at one of my favorite summertime destinations and, would you believe, it is NOT Disney?

    My family has never been, actually.

    Nope, in fact, I was happy for the opportunity to write about my favorite vacation spot, here in Jersey (is, too!!!)

    Still, leaving home, without my kids, is always hard. 

    However, I did not expect my youngest daughter to cry and hug me, as hard, as she did, or to make my son feel as if I were never coming back home, ever again.

    Then, about halfway into the 2+ hour car ride it dawned me.

    "Hi mom, we need the password for Netflix."

    My kids were sad, beeeeeecause, they weren't allowed to, you know, come with me and, well, the fact that they probably would be fine, without me (for the next few days, at least) just made my time away from home a little easier.

    Then, I came home, gave them each their presents (don't judge) and we ALL settled in to catch up on Season 2 of Glee (thank you, Netflix) when it hit.

    "Mom, we need to practice parallel parking!!!"

    A wave of nausea, when realizing that my oldest daughter is taking her driving test on Tuesday and…for those of you who have been reading along…for the last 8 years (you know who you are!) and my many new friends I've met over the internets…I hope you understand when I repeat this, all in UPPERCASE:

    HOLLY WILL (or will not) BE ISSUED A NEW JERSEY DRIVER'S LICENSE, TOMORROW!!!

    Oh and, one more thing:

    HOW IN THE H…E…DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS DID THAT HAPPEN, ANYWAY?!?!?

    [takes deep breath]

    So, Garth (not his real name) and I traded cars, since she'll be road-testing in it, anyway.

    Also, the hand break is in the center console, where instructor can reach it, if need be, but I hope not, still, you never know, it is supposed to rain, like buckets, okay, pour actually, ugh, moving on.

    Late this afternoon, Holly and I headed over to the high school and, seeing as I grew up about 25 minutes outside of New York City, while my husband grew up with head on parking (ONLY!) I instructed my 17 year-old in the fine art of parallel parking.

    Holly Parking Phase 1

    Phase 1:  wasn't very successful and I suspected it was because the poor kid couldn't see the back of the first pretend car.

    "This is no use, Mom, I can't see the garbage can in the front!"

    See, I told you, because, I'm smart like that.

    Holly Parking Phase 2

    Phase 2:  I found the pair of slippers, from Christmas, that don't fit Garth (not his real name) in the trunk, so I balanced it right on top of an empty box of garbage bags and, viola!!!

    Holly Almost Parked

    Almost, not quite, but I just stood there, taking pictures, all quiet like (which is very, very hard for a Hungarian, just so you know) and let Holly get a feel for her.

    Holly Parked

    Well, seems like she's ready and close enough to the curb for Mr. or Ms. DMV Instructor, even, right?

    "I'm gonna pass this suh-cuh!"

    Yep, to me, it sounds like she's more than ready to drive, in Jersey!

    "Even if you don't, no biggie!"

    Seriously, we live in Jersey, either way, she parks like her muh-thuh.

    "Can I blog this?"

    So, you know, I could remember what in the h…e…double hockey sticks I did…for the next 3 times, I mean.

    "Can you believe that Hope's turning double-digits this week, too, Mom?"

    Because, you know, they don't stay little for long…DAGNABIT!!!!

    UPDATED TO ADD:  She passed.  I did NOT puke.  Aaaaand, now it starts…

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • The Maude Squad

    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

  • Spittin’ on Sunshine (Wooah!)

    Happy 15th Birthday, Heather!

    Happy 15th Birthday, Heather!

    By now, you've been marked on the measuring wall, had your birthday hunt and opened your gift (you're welcome!) and I really do hope that you're not too disappointed.

    Don't worry.  I understand.  Even if you swore a thousand and one times on your beloved great-grandmother's grave (who loved you very much, too and is probably watching, right now, so I better be REAL careful about what I say next) birthdays SHOULD be coveted and a time when selflessness is, more often than not, overlooked.

    Unless, you live in our house…your birthday falls SMACK in the middle of cold and flu season…it snowed about two-gazillion feet and you're STILL digging out (DAMMIT!) or, in this case, ALL of the above (see previous parenthesis!) aaaand, your birthday sleepover (a.k.a. slumberless) party has been postponed (again) until maybe, um, next year?

    "How about if I pencil you in for this Thursday?"

    It's times like these when I begin to believe that wishing on sunshine and rainbows is highly overrated.

    "That's okay, Momma, I understand."

    As I watch you, right now, whille we take advantage of a delayed opening at dad's office (YAY!) and enjoy an impromptu breakfast celebration (i.e. just happened to have eggs, milk AND enough flour) chowing down on his scrumpdeliumptious crepes and finding contentment with where you are, right now.

    "For some reason, these taste really, really good today, dad!"

    It's only then do I realize the warm streams of light that begin to float through our dining room window and find absolute joy in being able to see our spit in the sunshine.

    "Wait, let me try!"

    Still, I can't help but agree with your father and his gosh-darned New England sensibility (sort of!)

    "You guys are really just too much!"

    Because, these are the times, when I truly believe, with all my heart, there is NO such thing as too much gift.

    "Ready, together now!"

    Happy Birthday, BeeBop!!!

    "We're spittin' on sunshine, WHOOAH!"

    Once again, you've proved yourself WAY too much gift, for me — but, I love, LOve, LOVe, oh my gosh, I absolutely freakin' LOVE you — I'm keeping you, anyway.

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

  • You Know You’re a Parent When:
    All You Want for Christmas
    Is a Puke-free New Year

    Facebook Update on Puke Beeeeecause, all the baking, cleaning, cooking, planning and preparing in the world will NOT stop the creeping crud from putting a damper on your holiday.

    Unless, you live at our house…

    "Sweetie, you awake?"

    …you're turning 15, this week…

    "Any special requests?"

    …but, have lost ALL concept of time…

    "Can I please have some water, now, pretty please?"

    …because, the kid's been puking since Christmas Day.

    "Um, not yet, Sweetie, maybe tomorrow."

    At our house, birthdays and holidays sometimes arrive late and can last an entire week, even.

    "What day is it, again, today?"

    [one beat, two beats]

    "Uh, well, um, Christmas, yeah, that's right, it's Christmas!"

    On OPPOSITE day, so what?

    "Oh, look…AAAAAND it's snowing!"

    Besides, this way, it looks like we'll be having a White Christmas, after all!

    "Oh good, just in time for my sleepover!!!"

    Um, yeah…about that…considering Snowmageddon has indeed arrived, uh, no.

    "Right, Momma?"

    Shhhh, but don't remind Heather, that Glen has a wrestling tournament (on Heather's birthday) but, he's also coughing up a lung, like Holly and Hope's been hitting the bathroom (on and off) since early, this morning.

    "Riiiiiight, I hope it snows until New Years."

    What?  Okay, I don't know about your house. 

    "YAY…let's have pajama day, everyday!"

    I would MUCH rather admit defeat once, than have to succumb to the creeping crud, one celebration at a time, you know?

    Happy, um, Everything!!!

    © 2003 – 2010 This Full House Blog / This FULL House (Re)Views