I love how Hope is using one of her flip flops as the steering wheel – here are some more photos from our weekend away at Cape May – yes, this IS New Jersey.
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© 2010 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
To think, this mommy/daughter mugging for the camera moment was nearly lost, forever!
Last week, I wrote about how we hit the road and drove to Cape May for the weekend (yes, even the Doofus-Dawg seemed excited about his first road trip) and I did promise you pictures, to prove that Jersey is NOT all what you see outside your window, flying over Newark Airport (seriously, dude, we ARE called the garden state) but, my middle girl hid her camera from me, because I broke mine and, you know, she's smart like that.
"You can't use my camera."
Gosh, but some 14 year-olds can get very touchy about using their stuff, right?
"Why not?"
Sheesh, I only wanted to grab the memory card and already promised NOT to touch anything else.
"Because, I lost it."
Now, I could've reprimanded Heather for being forgetful, or acting irresponsibly with her stuff, but, well, it would be sort of like talking to myself, really.
"Lost what?"
Gosh, but some almost 9 year-olds can get very nosey about stuff, right?
"Never mind."
Now that ALL the laundry from the trip is done (almost) STILL no camera.
"Quick…take MY picture next!"
I was telling someone at school how upset Heather was (about losing her camera, I mean) and…wait a minute…what the?
"Who's camera is that?"
Long story short (you're welcome!) my youngest daughter found Heather's camera shoved into the pocket behind the driver's seat in the minivan and, well, thank goodness for nosey little almost 9 year-olds!
"Hey, I found it FIRST!"
Wanna see other moments nearly lost?
I took this picture of Hope and Glen (my two youngest) in 2005 — the year my parents moved out of the house I grew up in — and, already, my son was very protective of his baby sister.
"I don't want her to fall in da wah-der!"
Didn't matter that my father's koi pond was only about ankle-deep; in true Thompson fashion, my son is a born worrier (he gets that from his father) and, well, his concern for the physical and emotional well-being of everyone around him was sort of, you know, cute.
Last night, however, turned chronic.
"I can't make ANYONE happy."
5 years have passed (I know, wasn't it just yesterday I was blogging about his peeing on a tree?) and, although the stories are pretty much the same (only, with less pee) I find myself feeling as if we BOTH haven't learned a gosh-darned thing.
"I don't understand?"
You see, my 11 year-old son is entering middle school next year and long story short (you're welcome!) let's just say the boy is feeling a little stressed.
"My teacher, you and dad, are ALL pushing me!"
Okay, A LOT STRESSED.
"To do what?"
Seriously, the kid was blowing snot and — although, my husband and I had already had a talk with his teacher and discussed her concerns over his penchant for day dreaming — he's been carrying and A/B average and I was at a loss as to why he was SO upset.
"I'm going to fail."
Oh. I know this one. In fact, 5 years ago, during my middle girl's parent-teacher conference, I was the ONLY parent to cheer when her 3rd grade teacher told me that she had failed her 1st math test.
"It's about time the kid learns to fail, something!"
Her teacher agreed, btw.
"All your father and I care about is that you do your best."
Apparently, my son's teacher feels differently.
"She said I was going to get absolutely lost in Middle School!"
Look, I get it. I couldn't do what she does — teach, someone else's kid, I mean — however, I know my son and — although, I think, having our kids attend K-3, switch to another school for grades 4 and 5, and then again to the middle school, our school system hasn't helped to make it ANY easier — this time, I believe the change will do him good.
"I think you're going to be just fine."
For the next 3 years, anyway.
"Just ask Holly and Heather!"
My 2 oldest daughters have already given him a run down of all the cool teachers and the, you know, not so cool teachers he'll probably get…in middle school.
"What are you doing, Hope?"
My youngest daughter (she's 8) ran out of the room to grab a pen and piece of paper.
"I want to write a letter to the principal of my new school…"
She's graduating 3rd grade next month and is changing schools, too, OY!
"…and I want to tell her that I want Holly's and Heather's teachers, ONLY!"
If ONLY life was that easy, right?
"Don't worry, Hopey, I already told her AND the nurse that my youngest sister is coming!"
You see, some things NEVER change AND my son happens to know that his baby sister is a frequent flyer!
"The nurse's office has got PLENTY of band aids!"
Hope, however, rolls like her mother.
© 2010 This Full House
My husband, Garth [not his real name] and I dog sat a few months ago and, as a thank you, our youngest daughter's Godparents invited us to spend a weekend at their summer home in Cape May, NJ.
"What do you mean, they won't be there?"
It's a busy time of year — especially, for folks who make a living out of digging in the dirt — so, this trip, it would be just the six of us….and my sister-in-law.
"What about Doofus-Dawg?"
Oh, yeah…him, too…much to the hor-ruh of Garth [not his real name] poor guy.
"It's a BIG house!"
Besides, now that the kids are older and doing all sorts of stuff, on their own, we almost NEVER get to see each other, let alone do stuff, together, anymore. I thought it would be sort of nice to eat dinner…sitting down.
"I call the middle bedroom!"
Actually, the house has five (I counted them…FIVE) bedrooms and a loft with four more (for a total of NINE) beds to choose from. Although, the last time, I guess all the extra leg room sort of creeped my kids out and ALL four of them ended up sleeping in MY bed.
"Okay, but I got dibs on the bathtub!"
Did I mention, the Cape May house has a whirlpool tub (squee!) and it's BIG…too?
"DARNIT, why does mommy always get to go first?"
Needless to say, we ALL had a TERRIFIC weekend (yes, together!) and, well, I hope to show/tell you more about it, real soon.
"What do you mean, she took her camera to school?"
Did I mention, I broke my camera (moment of silence) and, no…I don't blame my 14 yo for not trusting me with hers, either.
"She's got ALL the pictures."
Except, the one of Hopey (above) getting a bird's eye view of Cape May Point State Park from her daddy's shoulders.
Aaaand, this one of Doofus-Dawg totally blocking the entrance into the den/laundry room and, yep, it seems he needs a vacation from his vacation…too.
Stupid laundry!
© 2010 This Full House
One of the ladies at the gym watches The Good Wife and keeps insisting that I would probably love it, too.
"I dunno."
You see, besides feeling as if I couldn't possibly relate to anything using the words "good" and "wife" in the same sentence ("big" and "dork," probably) I also have commitment issues with television.
"What time is it on?"
By the time I get home from work, eat and get the kids settled for the night (i.e. get them to at least admit that, you know, it IS bedtime) it's too late.
"Did you watch, last night?"
[slaps forehead]
"D'oh, I forgot it was on."
Actually, I was probably too busy inspecting the inside of my eyelids and/or fighting Doofus-Dawg for the couch.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but…"
This week, however, I learned that work won't be as much of an issue, anymore. In fact, my schedule is about to lighten up, considerably, from 6 months ago.
"…the owner has decided to close up shop, at the end of the month."
Everyone in my family has made sacrifices (trust me, they will ALL tell you, I'm sure) and, well, it will be nice NOT to have to worry about feeling guilty, sort of.
"I'm really, really, sorry."
Long story, short (you're welcome) yeah, sure, the money helped (stupid braces, dumb car insurance, silly college fund) but, my working and being away from my house, 4 days, every week, was putting a real strain on my house.
"If only I had known, ahead of time."
So, in a way, losing this job is really [gulp] a good thing.
"I certainly wouldn't have offered you the hours!"
Having to call the ladies I recently hired (like, just 2 or 3 weeks ago) and tell them that, you know, they are now, un-hired…not so much.
"I'm really, really, sorry."
In fact, way too much.
"It's not your fault."
I am (or, was) the manager (and I use the term very, very loosely) I sorta knew his business wasn't doing very well. Still, I had such GREAT plans and worked really, really hard to keep his customers and employees happy.
"I feel like SUCH an a**hole…"
Man, un-hiring people really, really, does suck. By Tuesday night, I was SO done. I poured myself a glass of wine (i.e. turned the tap on the box) kicked the dog off the couch (sorry, Doofie) and just stared at the television.
"I like you…I didn't start off liking you."
Aaaand, then the part of the The Good Wife came on (see above clip) which made me think of an earlier conversation I had, with a longtime employee, who took pleasure in pointing out the stuff…I did wrong.
"One of the machines is in the wrong place."
Didn't matter if I re-arranged the ENTIRE gym (which, you're supposed to, once a month) without anyone's help and that she could have corrected it (her own self) right?
"You're not the a**hole, here, in fact, we ALL know you worked your a** off, Liz."
Look, I'm not comparing myself to The Good Wife — that character is a lawyer and I am, well, you know — however, working lots of hours, being away from her kids and having to work EXTRA hard, feeling as if she has to prove herself, to EVERYONE, because she's a mom.
[bites lower lip]
Yeah, I felt her pain – still do – sort of.
"Shouldn't HE be making these calls?"
My poor husband, Garth [not his real name] what a good guy he is, really.
"Why are YOU apologizing?"
I mean, I already quit trying to be the best wife, or the perfect mother, years ago and he's seems to be okay with it.
"Because, I am a good manager…DAMMIT!"
Or, at least, I was — now, at least I can keep on pretending to be a good blogger/writer/whatever, right?
[sound of crickets chirping]
Sorry, I just can't seem to quit YOU…Internets…so, I guess you better start getting used to, you know, being stuck with me.
You're welcome!
© 2010 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
What? It was either a $9.00 bottle of color, or a new cell phone — yes, I am also ONE OF THOSE parents!
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I came home from dropping the kids off at school, this morning (a.k.a. the land of the carpool lanes from h.e.double.hockey.sticks) and found this propped up against one of the kitchen chairs.
My poor husband, Garth [not his real name] obviously, he's sick (and tired) of coming home and, well, let's just say, the kids have developed a bad case of daddy deafness and, sadly, showing signs of dain bramage, too.
"Pick up your clothes…what clothes…the clothes that are lying in front of your bed…what bed…"
[cue head explosion]
It's amazing, really, how quickly, a person's head can explode, I mean.
The ironic thing about all this is NOW I am the one…sitting in the driveway…just waiting, for whenever I think it's safe to come into the house, or until daddy's head explodes.
"Hi…um…what's for dinner?"
[three, two, one]
"HOT DOGS, OKAY?!?!?!?"
Absolutely.
"Mmmmmm, sounds good!"
Relax. They were 100% beef. Still. I thought it would be fun to write a little song about fast food (i.e. better than doing the laundry) because, you know SOMEONE is bound fight me on this one:
I'm a BIG believer in Karma — what comes around goes around, you get what you give and all that — it's simple, easy to remember and exactly the sort of logic required, to help ward off a sixth sense for getting myself into trouble,.
In other words, I am very capable of making an asshat out of myself, without anyone's help…thankyouverymuch, Mr. Dalai Lama!
For example: Wednesday – I wrote a post, on my shopping blog, about raising free spirits and teaching my girls to embrace their own sense of style.
KARMA…KARMA…KARMA…BAM!
Then, yesterday morning, I got home, saw the red light blinking on the answering machine and thought about, you know, ignoring it.
I mean, it could have been HGTV.
"Congratulations, you've been chosen as the winner of Green Home 2010!"
Probably not.
"Uh, hi, Mom, it's me, Glen…"
[wince]
"…um…well…uh…I'm in the principal's office…"
Seriously?
"…I got in trouble for wearing my wrestling t-shirt."
Yesterday, my son was sent to the principal's office for "inappropriate" attire and, well, I kinda, sorta KNEW that he was breaking the dress code and, you know, sent him to school, anyway.
"Are they gonna let you wear
that shirt?"
I wish I could say it was a rebellious need to question the school's authority in deciding what my kids should eat, drink and/or wear — although, I sometimes do think folks are getting a little, you know, militant about that sort of stuff — rather than, admit it was a simple attack of mommy brain.
"Yeah, I wore it to school lots of times."
Honestly, I guess I was just feeling really tired of arguing (ALL THE TIME) and, well, we were already late for our carpool.
"Fine."
Besides, it's about time my kids started accepting responsibility for their actions and, well, maybe even I can learn how to quit blaming myself, for every little thing they do wrong, right?
[beep]
Odd. He hung up. Oh, well…look, there's another message…maaaaaaaybe…
"Um…I forgot…you need to come to school and bring me a new shirt!"
D'oh…shuddup Dalai Lama…stupid HGTV!,
© 2010 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
Momma, momma, what do you see? A free spirit calling out to the inner-child…in me.
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Whenever my good blogging friend, Dawn (a.k.a. brilliantly funny author of Because I Said So) would complain about being under attack by comment trolls, I imagined a bunch of snotty little evil basterds, camping out on her blog (pictured above) seriously, what IS it with mean-spirited people, anyways?
I mean, the woman has 6 kids, I really don't think she needs any help in dealing with suckage.
I guess I empathize with Dawn's self-deprecating humor, seeing as I've been making fun of myself, openly on the internet, for years now (see virtual tour) and, well, there ARE worse things than making OTHER mothers look good, right?
Then, I opened up my email and found this: