This Full House Archive

Tag: raising teens and tweens

  • 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

  • My Karma Ran Over Your Dogwood!

    Last winter, you may or may not remember my telling you about the house next door.

    Miss Grace turned 103, this month (bless her hearty little, uhh, heart) so, about 2 weeks ago, I pulled into my driveway and saw our other neighbor cutting her grass.

    DANGIT!

    The 3 of us have very large properties (as in, DANG, but this grass got real long, didn't it?!?)

    I don't remember the EXACT measurement (that particular brain cell burned off about 2 kids ago, I think) but, I'm pretty sure we're about 300+ feet long, backdoor to end of mow-able backyard and, well, that's A LOT of grass clippings, my friend.

    Our riding mower is broken (of course!) and I can't very well sit by and watch our other neighbor, who works the night shift and coaches in the afternoons, cut Miss Grace's lawn when he could be, you know, sleeping.

    But, the self-propelled portion of our lawn mower is ALSO broken (I know, go ahead and act surprised anyway) making it more a non-moving lawn mower (as in, DANG, but Miss Grace has got a lot of shrubs, doesn't she?!?)

    I don't remember the EXACT moment (after 4 tours of potty-training duty, I'm pretty much thankful for even a small fraction of brain activity) but, I'm pretty sure it was AFTER cutting underneath her holly tree.

    3 things came to mind:

    1.  Poison ivy lives here.

    2.  Miss Grace is NOT allergic to poison ivy.

    3.  I am SEVERELY allergic to poison ivy.

    No worries.  I've done this before (sadly) and know EXACTLY what to do:

    1.  Take a shower, IMMEDIATELY!

    2.  Dry off, COMPLETELY!

    3.  Wash infected clothes and any towels used, SEPARATELY!

    Besides, Karma dictates I should be fine (no?)

    Poison Ivy Week 2 HAH!  Made you itch!!!

    So, here I am, 2 weeks later, fresh from the doctor's office, thinking I was suffering from some sort of horrible contagion, with a prescription of prednisone (it makes my brain itch, like crazy) just so you know:

    3. (REVISED) Wash infected clothes and any towels used SEPARATELY and IN HOT WATER!

    Next week:  I'm ripping out her holly tree and planting a dogwood (shhhh, but don't tell her, okay?) after I borrow a HAZMAT suit, of course.

    STUPID poison ivy, DUMBASS Karma!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Are You Smarter Than My
    5th Grader’s Smart Phone?

    NO!!!  Because, my 5th grader doesn't have a cell phone.  She will (eventually) then text me, how much she HATES the bus, like her siblings before her, most likely.

    All arguments for or against cell phone use in school and kids today with their entitlement issues, aside (really, 4 kids, living under 1 leaky roof, I get it) her latest argument that, "My friends are texting each other, except me!" is more than just a little disconcerting.

    "Which friends?"

    I mean, we ARE talking 10 year-old girls, who stop talking to each other, every other day, just so you know.

    "ALL my friends!"

    Still, I remember when it seemed ALL my friends wore Converse sneakers and, being raised hearing stories of my father entering this country, with borrowed shoes (2 sizes too small) how torn I felt about my Shoprite specials.

    Unconvinced (see last paragraph) I remind her that it couldn't possibly be ALL her friends.

    "I mean So-and-So calls you on our house phone, every day."

    Okay, I mean, at least every OTHER day.

    "Beeeeeee-cawse, I don't have a cell phone, remember?!?"

    [blink, blink, blink]

    GAH!  Whatever!  It's sort of hard to argue with a child's sense of logic, without sounding a little like a 12-year-old, my ownself, yes?

    "Well, that's not ALL your friends now, is it?"

    See what I mean?

    "YES IT IS!"

    Times like this, squashing my inner-12-year old is really, really hard, just so you know.

    "What about So-and-So?"

    [one beat, two beats]

    "Beeeeeee-cawse, she has me on conference call!"

    [eyes go wide]

    "I can't even do that with my phone, DAGNABIT!"

    There, I said it (keep your Blackberry, Droid and iPhone apps to yourselves, please) I have a dumb phone, don't judge.

    "Well, you COULD get a smart phone and we CAN always learn to share!"

    Damn, that kid is smart (stupid phone!)

  • Remembering Union Street

    7 years ago (next month) I sold my childhood home (approx. 30 minutes outside of NYC) and moved my parents "down the shore" to live in "the village" or what my kids warmly refer to as "Camp Mama and Papa."

    Union Street Lamp
    So, a week before the move, we took our kids up for one last visit and my husband started to take a couple of random pictures.

    Union Street Arbor
    At first, I couldn't quite understand why.  Although, yes, the gardens were magnificent and often times my parents would receive compliments from passersby.

    Union Street Patio
    My kids grew up here visiting with their grandparents nearly every Sunday and yet I couldn't help but look forward to watching each of them (and us) make many more memorable moments in Mama and Papa's shiney new home.

    Union Street Front Yard
    The last I heard, the house on Union Street was being rented (AGAIN!) and, living 90 minutes away, my parents sometimes STILL visit, insisting that, you know, they just happened to be in the neighborhood.

    A few weeks ago, I drove up north to run a few errands (okay, only one, the Hungarian butcher is still there, enough said) and did EXACTLY what I told my parents NOT to do.

    I drove up Union Street, right passed the house and, I swear, I could hear my heart break a little. 

    The foot bridge, the lamp post, the rose-covered arbor, the greenhouse that my father built using leftover materials recycled from various landscaping job sites, it was ALL gone. 

    I did NOT recognize it, anymore.

    Today, I'm heading out to check on my parents (my dad tore a ligament in his "good arm," yesterday) but, not before I make a quick stop for them at the Hungarian butcher…ONLY!

    Union Street House

    So, yeah, thank you, Garth (NHRN) this is EXACTLY how I will always remember Union Street.

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • My Father, Zee Pool Mon-nee-tor

    The Pool Monitor

    I'm a people watcher to the extent where I can sit, pretty much any place, for hours and, you know, make other people wonder, "Why IS she staring at me like that?!?"

    Because, it's in my genes, along with a weird sort of magnetism, or ability to draw complete strangers into sharing their WHOLE life story (I'm a good listener, too) oh, and certain parts of my body are extremely follicle-ly gifted (you're welcome!) I get it from my dad.

    Dad the Pool Monitor

    My father volunteered to be pool monitor (checks badges, accepts tickets from visitors) a couple hours,  twice a week, this summer and if you've ever hung around the geriatric set (figuratively AND literally speaking) then you would probably understand when he tells you, "Izzzzz no pic-a-nik!"

    It was his last day (as pool monitor) but, he did not want to go, because it was between the hours of "NO splashing" and "They're not OUR grandkids."

    I said that I would go with him, anyway, just to keep him company and it would give him (and me) the chance to sit and make fun of the…I mean…interact with the rest of the villagers.

    "Did you ask permission to take pictures?"

    No Diving

    You know, it was SUCH a beautiful day and I really could have sat there for hours, I don't believe the cement was very interested in what I was doing, really.

    "I em herrrrr perrrrrrmeeeeee-shun!"

    Loungers

    I mean, he IS the pool monitor and, honestly, the pool chairs and loungers didn't seem to mind, either.

    My kids think their grandfather is funny (me, too) but, sometimes they have a real hard time figuring out whether Papa is being serious, or not (ditto) like, when he tells them how he, you know, hates senior citizens.

    "Oh, okay, YOU gave her permission, uh-uh, and you are?"

    Okay, not really, it's just, well, at this point, my father feels life is too short to worry about Jackwagons, who insist on acting all, you know, Jackwagon-y.

    "I em fin-eeeshed speaking to you."

    Me, too… AND… I really, really hate it when people get all patronize-y, like that!

    "Sir, really, you're not making any friends, talking down to people, like that."

    [eyes go wide]

     "Oh, I forrrrget, you did not meet my frrrrrend Joe…Joe, dis izzzz my dah-terrrr."

    [one beat, two beats]

    "Yeah, I noticed the resemblence."

    UGH!  That Papa!  He's so, so funny.

    "Nice to meet you, too!"

    Morale of the Story:  If a man insisted always on being serious, and never allowed himself a bit of fun and relaxation, he would go mad or become unstable without knowing it. ~ Herodotus

    Aaaaaand, THEN, make it HIS life's mission to drive us womenz right off the deep end…riiiiiiiiight?!?

    [sound of crickets, chirping]

    Turkey Vulture
    Look, over there, up on that satellite thingy, isn't that one of those turkey vultures, up there?!?

    SLAM!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Easy, Breezy, Pinot Gris-y

    In between earthquakes and hurricane warnings (what a week we're having, Jersey, eh?) my husband, Garth (NHRN) and I celebrated our 21st wedding anniversary and had an awesome dinner with my in-laws, last night!

    I tried to keep the conversation light (thanks to 2 Mojitos and an awesome glass of Pinot Gris) alas, my husband's boyscout powers, along with the category 2 hurricane and extreme flood warnings, had been activated early in the day.

    "You guys have everything you need?"

    My in-laws are both in their 80's (but, you STILL look good Mom!) and, well, let's just say that they didn't seem very worried about the weather.

    "Ah-yup."

    Still, I told them that the kids and I were going to go down to check on my folks (they live about 15 miles inland from Seaside Heights) then, I would stop by their house (my in-laws live about 10 minutes away from us) to help secure stuff and drop off a case of bottled water.

    "I don't expect there'd be a problem."

    My father-in-law is from New England, enough said.

    "But, you want to be able to have coffee!"

    I mean, seriously, you really have to wonder about some people's priorities.

    "Category 2 hurricane and you're worried about coffee?"

    I'm sure the table behind us MUST have heard the muscles in my neck snap, as I whipped my head in my husband's direction (I mean, my neck STILL hurts a little) seriously, he's lived with me for 21 years.

    "Maybe coffee would help make them worry about it, you know, less."

    Okay, at this point, I realize that it sounded as if I was being beaten by the stoopid stick. 

    It's not every day you experience an earthquake AND a hurricane in the same week.

    I stood my ground.

    "This way, you have water, all you have to do is just fire up your Keurig and you're good to go."

    Wait for it.

    "That's actually a great idea.

    Wait.  For.  It.

    "Iffffffff, they had electricity!"

    AHEM.

    "How about those Giants?"

    [blink, blink]

    "They're actually going to go ahead and play the Jets."

    [sound of crickets]

    "You know, on Saturday?!?"

    [heavy sigh]

    "Sure, I'll have another glass of wine, thanks!"

    All I'm saying is, thank goodness, I married a boyscout….stupid Irene!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Fanny Body Asks, I’m NOT Home!

    TFH Fortress of DorkitudeKnock-knock.  Who's there?  Fanny.  Fanny who? (see blog post title) SNORT!

    The kids helped me out with a little blogging project and, since it's been raining cats and dogs, since, like, forever, they built this awesome tent in the  middle of our livingroom.

    Not that it's earth-shattering news, or an epiphany in parenting, that will perhaps, one day, save the world, by any means, or anything.

    It's just that, you know, my kids are older AND by older I mean:  a) oldest is graduating high school this year and b) youngest is moving up to middle school next year (SOB!)

    The fact that they still like doing this sort of stuff…with me…well, sort of just blows me away, a little.

    You see, I am not the best mom, or expert at anything other than being a dork (I get that!) but, raising teens is REAL hard.

    Aaaaand, some would be hardpressed to argue that first part, as well (DAMNIT!) but, these are my kids and, some day, REAL soon, maybe they won't be home long enough, or even want to admit that, you know, we actually had fun…together.

    Except, this one day, when we built a tent, out of blankets, in the middle of our living room, microwaved us some S'mores and watched Toy Story 3.

    Aaaaand, it was AWESOME!

    Racy Mushrooms

    "Holy crap on a stick, look at the size of those mushrooms!"

    Told you it's been raining, A LOT!!!

    "Heeeeey, you know what, they sorta look [snicker] you know [cough, cough] kinda, I dunno, funny-looking, right?!?"

    After some scolding and a quick lecture on the appropriateness of this particular conversation, my kids finally allowed me back into the house and sent me and my inner-12-year-old straight to my room, for some quiet time.

    Aaaaand, it was AWESOME!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

    Freshly-brewed elsewhere:  Allstate Good Hands Roadside Assistance Program Recap where I get to share a $50 Amazon gift card.  Also, had fun filming this video with the Minute Clinic folks at BlogHer.

  • Traveling With Teens and Tweens and That Annoying 20-Something Couple!

    Traveling with younger kids is hard, trust me, I know. My minivan has battle scars — not to mention, unidentifiable stains, which will stay that way, because, seriously, I don't even want to know and I'm STILL finding petrified food c. 2006 — to prove it!

    FINALLY!!!
    Driving, now that my kids are ALL in double-digits, however, and being stuck in traffic, for half the trip (seriously, Connecticut?) can make even the most level-headed, easy-going, and emotionally-balanced parent go all mental.

    "Would you PLEASE stop talking and put some noodles into your mouth, or something!"

    The Crane 2011

    Then again, I don't remember ever having THIS much fun with them, at the beach, when they were little and, quite frankly, I was probably more concerned about counting heads than making with the crane.

    Me and SueMe and Sue of As Cape Cod Turns

    Or, being able to make last minute dinner plans with bloggers, who I now have the extreme priviledge of being able to call out as good friends who, after asking:

    "Are ALL your kids with you?"

    Then learn:

    "Yes, ALL my kids are here, with us, right here, staying in this one room…[clears throat]…I'll bring the wine!"

    And STILL, you know, seem to want us to bring our kids.

    The Boy and Garth (not his real name)
    Oh and shopping.  While, my husband, Garth (not his real name) and the manchild patiently wait as the rest of us go shopping.

    The Girls at Clancy's
    Also, eating in restaurants.  Although, 5 out of 6 of us aren't allowed to order off the kids menu, anymore and, well, we don't go out all that often.  But, when we do, it's a treat.

    "DAMN…that's a lot of kids!"

    Yeah, uh-uh, as if I've never heard THAT before.  Still.  We stopped at a sushi place halfway home and there was an obnoxious 20-something couple sitting behind us and by obnoxious, I mean that even my 10 year-old was all like…EWWW…he's eating her ear!

    "Hahahahaha, riiiiiiight, and they're taking them ALL home, with 'em!"

    I kid you not.  The kids and Garth (not his real name) were already out the door and I was all, like, huh?!?  Aaaaaand, the fact that he used her as his own private little (okay, not so little) sushi table, way better, right?!?

    "Why didn't you say something, mom?"

    Honestly, I was too busy, trying to figure out what their story was and, well, would it have really mattered, anyway, if I had?!?

    "Because, all of his brains are obviously in her breasts and they wouldn't have understood me, anyway."

    SNORT!!!

    "Yeah, also, if the Apocalypse happens, we could use those puppies as flotation devices!"

    Aaaaand, oh, how we laughed and laughed.

    Gosh, but I love traveling with older kids and someone should really consider banning obnoxious 20-something-year-olds at restaurants. 

    Or, at least, prohibit them from procreating!  I kid.  Sort of.

    She should be sleeping, too!
    Also, it's sort of nice to have another licensed driver in the house, who can take over and give daddy and/or mommy a much needed break, if need be.

    When and if ever she wakes up, of course!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House