This Full House Archive

Tag: raising teens and tweens

  • Where some kids throw tantrums, mine just buy lottery tickets.

    I have a confession to make.  Ready?  Here it goes:

    I love grocery shopping!

    Weird thing (besides my loving grocery shopping) is I never used to like it and would much rather push an old-fashioned reel lawn mower through a field of sticky balls than have to spend half the day in a supermarket.

    Now that my kids are older, well, I cannot run out of the house, or get to the grocery store, fast enough and not just because they eat stuff, all gone, without even being asked to, either.

    "Where you going?"

    It's nice to have kids old enough to not have to, or necessarily even want, to come with me, even if it's just to the grocery store, really it is.

    "Food shopping."

    Or, at least I thought.

    "I want to come."

    [heavy sigh]

    "Me, too!"

    Aaaand, not because they really, really, like me, either (trust me, I live with me, I know) still, I'm thinking, it's nice outside, the sun is shining, the grass is, uh, really wet, meh, why not, right?

    Later.

    "Here…why don't you guys go and buy a donut, or something!"

    [eyes go wide]

    "Don't worry, I'll find you."

    The shopping trip was taking much longer than I expected — not to mention, more expensive by the minute — and, well, I just needed a moment to regroup and build up enough strength to get through the meat aisle.

    "Can we have tacos, tonight?"

    Another thing about having older kids…eventually, they WILL find you…first…no matter how hard you try to hide.

    "Oh, WOW, not for what they want for their chopped meat!"

    Good thing my kids like pasta, a lot.

    "I'll be right back!"

    My youngest (she's 9) has this habit of not having to explain herself, to me, because, clearly, I am psychic.

    "I'll go with her!"

    Ah, the joys of older kids.

    "Okay, I'm almost done here."

    Much later.

    "I'm sorry, mom, but I couldn't stop her in time."

    Oh, and one more thing about older kids, they sort of just show up, out of nowhere, and love to give me mini-heart attacks.

    "What did you do?"

    I put the last of the bags into our cart, when the child lifts her chin up from off her chest, bites her lower lip and announces in a clear voice, that she used the change from Dunkin' Donuts to buy one of those scratch-off lottery tickets.

    "HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IT'S ILLEGAL!"

    Honestly, I didn't know whether to laugh, or cry. 

    I mean, the lottery vending machine was right next to Redbox, which was right next to the bubble gum machines and, well, I guess the poor kid just really, really wanted tacos for dinner.

    "She was too short to see the sign about being 18 and nobody was stopping her, either, mom."

    That's because the kid was being real quiet about it and nobody ever notices a quiet kid, right?

    Scratch.  Scratch.  Scratch.

    "Good news is, no one is going to jail."

    [eyes go wide]

    "What's the bad news, mommy?"

    [tosses ticket into trash bin]

    "Looks like we're having pasta tonight!"

    Stupid grocery shopping, dumbass economy!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Parenting Tip #43,100,688:
    Don’t Have a Helmet, Get One!

    Helmut Head
    Besides, the fact that we are perhaps the only family, with four kids, and the youngest nearly in double-digits, who has never been to Disney World (meanies that we are) a lot of people seem to be surprised when they learn that my kids can't ride bikes, either.

    Without training wheels, I mean.

    I don't know why, really, I guess my kids just never really got into them and then scooters were a big thing, so, there's that.

    "I want to learn how to ride a bike!"

    My youngest, however, wants to learn how to do everything — especially, if she's the first kid in our family to, you know, do it.

    "Okay, maybe this summer."

    [hands on hips]

    "That's what you ALWAYS say!"

    Unfortunately, she wants everything, like, RIGHT NOW, nevermind that there's been snow on the ground for the last couple of, uh, what month is it, again?

    "What do you mean?"

    Because, you know, I'm quick like that.

    "Like, about the ladies stuff?"

    PSA:  About to head into female territory and references to lady parts will probably come up, once or twice.

    "Oh, that."

    Yes, I admit it, I've been putting off having "the talk," and with good reason, too!

    "I mean, I know what the pads are used for, already!"

    She is the youngest.  She also shares a bedroom (and bathroom) with her two oldest sisters.  The girl sees stuff, hears things, even when she's not supposed to and, well, at this point, I'm kind of worn out and really was hoping that maybe she'd sort of just, you know, figure it out.

    "It's so you could catch the pee you missed and sort of drips off, right?"

    [sound of crickets]

    Aaaaaand, so, Hope and I had a really nice chat, last night, and, I am happy to report that pee was not even mentioned.

    "Remember when I was little and you used to give me a bath?"

    [heavy sigh]

    "Aaaand, you pulled my pants off and I made you scream?"

    [eyes go wide]

    "Because, I wanted to be like Holly and Heather, so I put a pad on!"

    [bites lower lip]

    "Except, I put it on…sticky side up."

    Oh, yeah.  I forgot about that.

    "Aaaaand, you laughed so hard, you fell backwards and hit your head!"

    True story (it hurt!) and I'm sure it won't be the last time she tells it, either.

    "Why aren't you laughing, mommy?"

    Stupid puberty!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

    FRESHLY-BREWED REVIEW: Breaking the Silence of Abuse, Depression and Suicide

  • You Say Bribery, I Say Schmibery
    Either Way, It’s All UPPERCASE To THEM!

    Good Deeds
    My youngest loves to make lists; this one from the day after New Year's, when my husband came down with another mancold.

    Living in a houseful of girls, who insist that shoving stuff into corners and hiding dirty clothes under the bed is, you know, cleaning, I sometimes forget that we have a son.

    I don't mean, like, I forget to pick him up from school (which is a good thing, seeing as my kids go to four different schools) or, that he's not listed on our tax forms, or anything.

    It's just that, you know, boys are different.

    Although, I really DO have trouble remembering which is which. 

    Whose idea was it to pick girls names, all starting in the same letter, anyway?  Oh, wait.  that was me, never mind.

    Aaaaanyway, what was I saying?

    [watches dust bunnies dancing in the sunlight]

    Oh, yeah.  The boy's room is almost always clean and WTH is it with Ladies Rooms, anyway, RIGHT?

    [sound of crickets, chirping]

    So, raising 2 teens and 2 tweens, I seem to have also picked up the annoying habit of, you know, SPEAKING LOUDLY!

    "What's for dinner?"

    "Pork chops and apple sauce."

    [5 mins later]

    "What's for dinner?"

    [sigh]

    "Pork chops."

    [10 mins later]

    "What's for dinner?"

    [heavy sigh]

    "Pork."

    [one beat, two beats]

    "What's for…"

    "I DON'T KNOW!"

    [covers ears]

    "Ooooookay.  Why you hollerin'?"

    See, no wonder kids think parents are weird, or, maybe it's just me (shuddup!) but, I'm happy to say, that I have recently happened upon a brand new parenting tactic.

    Long story, short (I know, too late, thanks for reading and has anyone ever told you how pretty you really, are?) bribery was not involved.

    "What's wrong with Heather?"

    "She's sick."

    Then, my 17 year-old woke up with a migraine.

    "What's wrong with Holly?"

    "Sick."

    Then, my 12 year-old son got down on his knees and began to beg.

    "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze, I've only had one sick day!"

    To save time, I didn't even bother waking up the 9 year-old (you know, what's her name, kinda short, sort of looks like me, likes to make lists?) and instituted a "mental health day," at the beginning of this week, with one proviso:

    "You will have to clean your room and I mean holiday clean!"

    As Clean As It's Gonna Get!
    Aaaand, I didn't even have to use UPPERCASE!

    [cough, cough]

    "What's the matter with Glen?"

    The kids have a 4-day weekend.

    "He's sick."

    And, were all supposed to sleepover my parent's house.

    "But, we still get to sleep over, right?"

    To save time, I didn't even bother to get dressed.

    "Where's Glen."

    "Oh, he's home, watching pay-per-view, waiting for me, some chocolate donuts and a medium-sized coolata, DAMMIT!"

    My parents didn't even bother to ask why I was still wearing my pajamas.

    Morale of Story:  Why, yes, I am totally full of pork chops…AND APPLESAUCE!

    Stupid 4-day weekends.

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

    Freshly-brewed Review: Breaking the Silence of Abuse, Depression and Suicide

  • Parenting Tip #93,018,833:
    Perfect Hindsight is 20-20
    Give or Take a Lifetime

    Hindsight PhotoCredit: HeatherrMarie

    I have been accused of being an emotional person upon occasion, or twenty (I know, act surprised anyway, okay?) which means that I absolutely suck at Texas Hold 'Em.

    [eyes go wide, hands begin to shake, sweat beads form on upper lip]

    I'm ALL in, before all the cards are dealt, even.

    "CALL!"

    Which, of course, also means that I cannot fake my way through a situation, even if my insurance rates depended on it.

    "Why no, officer [hands being to shake] I didn't realize [sweat beads forming on upper lip] that my taillight was [GAH!!!!] yes, yes, I'm sorry, my left headlight is out, too!"

    My husband, Garth (not his real name) on the other hand, well, he has this philosophic calm about him and the way he handles confrontation.

    Which, of course, also means that he says totally nonsensical, idiomatic stuff, like, "It is what it is," and, "Can't ask a leopard to change its spots," or, my favorite "Six to one, half a dozen to another," NOT!

    Unless, you make me cry.

    [eyes go wide, hands begin to shake, sweat beads form on upper lip]

    Then, my friend, he is not above reading the riot act, to anyone, not even the Queen herself, as quick as you can say Jack Robinson, in the 3rd person, even.

    "All persons, being assembled, shall immediately disperse and peaceably depart to their habitations or to their lawful business on the pain of being guilty of an offense for which, on conviction, they may be sentenced to death by idioms, for life."

    [blank stare]

    "All-uh-yuhs, just get off her back, will yuhs!?!"

    Morale of the Story:  May you have the hindsight to know where you've been, the foresight to know where you are going and the insight to know when you have gone too far.

    Short Version:  Don't make my husband have to go all Jersey on your sorry ass!

    God Save the King of Idioms, Garth (not his real name) thanks for having my back, yesterday!

    Love always,

    The Queen of Dorks (herself!)

    © 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

  • 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

  • Parenting Tip #13,100,785:
    Anything Boys Can Do, Girls Can Do Better!
    Unless You Live in Our House
    Or, Happen to Play the Clarinet!

    TFH Kids Cook

    Hey, look, finally, a post that has absolutely NOTHING to do with the weather (anyone mentions anything about snow and the ground hog gets it!) however, I will say that we're each getting a little sick (and tired) of all the closeness, around here.

    "Girls go to college to get more knowledge!"

    Especially, my two youngest children.

    "But, boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider!"

    See what I mean?

    "That's not right!"

    Thank goodness, the two oldest girls have my back.

    "You mean, more stupid!"

    Sort of.

    "Keep it up and ya'll going to Jupiter!"

    Long story, short (you're welcome) at our house, the war of girls vs. boys has been going on for quite some time now and, well, if you ask me, it really doesn't matter (whether you're a boy, or girl, I mean) they're ALL driving me nucking futs, too!

    "Smart Alec said that playing the clarinet is stupid!"

    Et tu minivan? 

    "What did you say?"

    Hope's first choice was to play the flute [cringe] but, I told her maybe the clarinet would be, you know, way cooler, considering there really aren't enough female clarinet players in the world.

    "I told him maybe he should think about playing the clarinet, then!"

    [snort!]

    "How many clarinets does it take to change a light bulb?"

    Either way, it just occurred to me, that I forgot to ask what instrument Smart Alec plays.

    "Clarinets don't have light bulbs, STUPID!"

    Then again, I guess it really doesn't matter.

    "Hey, you just passed our house!"

    Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala.

    "Where are you taking us, Mom?

    [blows bangs out of eyes]

    "Next stop….JUPITER!"

    Stupid ground hog!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Cloudy With a Chance of Snowballs

    Passed the Nose on My Face

    I love snow [ducks to avoid flying snowballs] working up enough courage to actually get behind the wheel of a car and driving in it, not so much!

    I got into my first and only car wreck [knocking on wood until knuckles bleed] while driving home from work…in a snow storm.

    It was bad; my body hurts just thinking about it.

    I was only 20 and, well, let's just say I've spent the last 20-something years, doing my best to avoid, having to drive…in the snow.

    Until, I had children.

    My kids don't like to walk, anywhere (I think it's a law, or something) partly, because we live in an area where the ratio between accessible sidewalks to the actual number of cars on the road is equal to the proportion of the accumulated snowfall.

    In other words, no one shovels their gosh-darned sidewalks, anymore, DAGNABIT!

    "Can I stay home, today?"

    [frown]

    "Yes…WAIT…I mean, NO!"

    I fear for my middle girl.  She attends a specialized high school 25 miles away from home and, well, her bus travels some of the craziest roads known to the Jersey Shore as…THE PARKWAY!!!

    [shiver]

    "Sorry, kiddo, but you have finals, today!"

    Aaaaand, she was out sick, yesterday, already, DAGNABIT!!!

    "Can you pick me up from school, today?"

    [bites lower lip]

    "Um, NO!"

    What?  This particular kid also takes a bus and, well, who am I to deny someone a chance to do their job, right?

    "Can you pick me up from school, today?"

    [heavy sigh]

    "Uh, NO!"

    What?  Aaaand, this kid can literally spit from our house to the school, we live THAT close.

    "Now, remember, if the snow gets really, really bad, mommy's gonna park the car down the street and we're gonna walk home, okay?"

    [eyes go wide]

    "ALL THE WAY FROM SCHOOL?!?"

    YES!  Because, there's a wooded path leading from this kid's school, to the adjacent neighborhood and, well, I fear THAT parking lot, the most!

    "It'll be an adventure!"

    Besides, we're supposed to get like, 10 inches and I've abandoned cars, for less.

    "…so, our area can expect a light dusting to no accumulation…until, tonight."

    PHEW!

    [looks out the window]

    BALLS!

    Guess what?  The weather dudes were wrong (GASP!) I spun out in the CVS parking lot getting milk on the way home from school this morning and, well, it looks like my kids are walking!

    [pulls up hoodie and blows bangs out of eyes]

    If anyone needs me, I'll be outside, cleaning off my car (for the eleventy-hundrendth time) and pretending like I'm a REAL good stay-at-home mother.

    Stupid Snowmaggedon!!!

    © 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

  • Love = 167.225472 m2

    Love Thursday Home

    Our house is about 1,800 square feet — that's the equivalent of some folk's swimming pools, here in Jersey — and it looks even smaller, from the sidewalk.

    Understandably, it's hard to imagine 6 people living in such a house.

    "Wow!!!"

    It's really funny to watch first-time visitors walk through our front door, stare up at the high ceilings, blink both their eyes, rapidly, as they try to center their gaze on the back wall, some 25 feet or so away and then, you know, physically stumble.

    "It looks a lot bigger on the inside!"

    It's an optical illusion, really — not to mention, they've just seen the biggest room in the house — still, we get by. 

    Unless, someone gets sick (which, during creeping crud season, is pretty much once a week) or, we're hosting a sleepover (what I like to refer to as, slumberless parties) when no one is sick, of course!

    "Wait, how many kids DID you invite?"

    Aaaaand, well, reorganizing a corporation could NOT be anymore challenging than rearranging our house.

    "Where DID you put them all?"

    Considering, my brother and I were raised in an even smaller house (6, including the bathroom) it's funny to think that my own mother had trouble visualizing the logistics of making room for 10 more very-near-to-their-adult-size teenagers.

    "Only 5 of them stayed over."

    [whispering]

    "Where are they?"

    You know what's even funnier? 

    Watching my husband, Garth (not his real name) both eyes darting left, right and then left again, several times and finally gingerly walk through the front door, expecting a surprise attack, land minds, or something.

    "Relax…they…are in the girls' room."

    It's quite ironic, really — considering, it's hard for friends to imagine how all 3 of my daughters share the same room and, you know, live to complain about — then again, at least they have a bedroom door.

    "Don't they want more room?"

    [shrugging shoulders]

    "Apparently, not."

    Until, about 1:30 in the morning.

    "Sorry, mom, but we sorta got hungry."

    Judging by all the empty cans of soup AND containers of chocolate frosting, I found tossed in the kitchen sink, I would say so.

    "You know, you coulda stayed in the living room?"

    [shrugs shoulders]

    "It's no big deal."

    I know (DAMMIT!) still, over the years, I've learned to be careful not to complain about the house, too much — no matter how frustrating, stressful or claustrophobic it may be, especially, in the wintertime — and most especially, NOT in front of my kids.

    Seeing as it's, you know, their home, too.

    "Besides, my friends think our house is all comfy-cozy inside."

    Aaaaand, well, I just love that, you know?

    Happy Love Thursday!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House / TFH Gone Shopping