This Full House Archive

Tag: raising teens and tweens

  • 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

  • Wordless Wednesday:
    Aaaand So It Begins
    To Look a LOT Like Christmas!

    Heather Sporting Christmas Ornament Earrings
    The countdown (27 days until Heather's 15th birthday) officially begins…NOW!!!

    Taken with my cell phone.  Imagine what I could do with a REAL camera?  Yeah, I'm looking at you, Garth (not his real name!)

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    © 2003 – 2010 This Full House Blog / This Full House Gone Shopping

  • Wordless Wednesday
    Making a List (or, Twenty)

    Happy Thanksgiving Eve 2010
    Happy Thanksgiving Eve, everyone!!!

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    © 2003 – 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping

  • And what do you burn,
    apart from witches?

    Little Witches

    I snapped this shot of my youngest and her bff on Halloween.  Whoops.  Sorry, I promise that will be the LAST time I mention Halloween. 

    D'oh!

    Aaaanyway, I was looking through my flickr account and remembered that I posted a similar photo about 2 years ago, along with the realization that little girls were, you know, NOT very nice.

    Then, they grow up and become women who dislike you for just, you know, being you.

    Why is that?

    I dunno.  Seems I'm STILL having trouble quieting my inner-9-year-old in thinking…why YES…yes, we WILL be friends…until the end…of course.

    Or, until, someone decides to burn a bridge, or something, with me, you know, still standing on it.

    "Oh, I just can't STAND her right now!"

    Conversations that start out like this, yeah, they make me itch.

    "Who?"

    Especially, when it is one of MY girls who says it.

    "Oh, So-and-So is just AWFUL!"

    Most especially, my teens.

    "Wait a minute, I thought you were friends."

    Apparently, yes, 10 minutes ago.

    Long story short (you're welcome) I've tried to raise my kids to believe that calling someone out as your friend means that you also accept them for who they are and sometimes, yes, when they are NOT being very friend-like, either.

    "Bet you wouldn't say that if I told you what she did!"

    [whispers in ear]

    However, I've recently come to the conclusion that there are also many levels of friendship and that's okay, too.

    "Are you kidding me…in a Starbucks?!?"

    No one is perfect.  People make mistakes.  Rumors and innuendos kill.  I get that!

    "How do you know?"

    Then again, I'm just going to have to accept the fact that perhaps there ARE those times when it's best to, you know, walk away from a friendship.

    [whispers in other ear]

    Or, um, run.

    "Well, maybe it IS time to give THAT friendship a break."

    You do NOT want to know, however, if you have kids — especially, if they are teens and most especially, if they are girls — this would probably be a REAL good time to remind them about the improper uses of a cell phone.

    "And, I'm NEVER using THAT bathroom, again!"

    Trust me, I am a professional dork and NO ONE knows, the exact locations of the nearest emergency exit AND bathroom, better than I do!

    P.S. Relax!  It wasn't the 9 year-old and I am typically NOT this casual, or flippant when talking to my kids about this sort of stuff. However, I am thankful when one of them feels comfortable enough to talk (to me) about, you know, this sort of stuff (sort of) but, trust me when I also tell you that I was MUCH less calm about it, at the time, too!

    "What's the matter with you?"

    Another day, another kid, etc…

    "What's His Name said he deleted me from his Live account!"

    [heavy sigh]

    "Meh, don't worry about it."

    Boys, however, are a whole 'nother animal!

    "He's just being a jerk!"

    Stupid social media.

    © 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping

    Stopdiabetes

  • A Womb With a View

    Riverview

    This is one of my favorite views this side of Jersey (Bon Jovi lives just across the river, right over there, see him?) I took that pic with my cell phone (yes, my camera is STILL broken) while waiting for my pre-admissions stuff, the other day.

    What?  The dude sitting next to me took one, too!  It really is a beautiful view.

    When my oldest daughter was born (nearly 17 years ago, this Friday, ACK!) every expectant mother hoped for a "river view," just like that, from their hospital window.

    I was NOT one of those moms.

    Nuh-uh, I was a leeee-tull busy at the time.  After 17 hours of labor, you coulda put me in a dumpster, I wouldn't have minded, just GET THIS KID OUTTA ME!

    "HIYA!"

    So, I thought.  Back then, they didn't have private post-natal rooms and my roomie was, well, one mother of a P.I.T.A.!!!

    "This is my first, too!"

    Seriously?  I don't remember her name.  However, I do recall that Mother Earth told me that she was "breast feeding on demand" (I think she might have even gotten cable on those puppies) while I elected to bottle feed (no flaming, just would have been nice to have similar feeding schedules) and she spoke about two octaves higher than a normal person, which made her even MORE annoying than a lactating wood chipper!

    I glanced over her shoulder, out the window and pretended I was anywhere, but here.

    "I can't WAIT to have another!"

    Then, I puked.

    "Oh, you poor thing."

    Aaaand, so ended our conversation and any further sympathy, or courtesy I would get from Mother Earth.

    She had at least a half a dozen visitors, coming, or going, at any given time and, let me tell you, the LAST thing any new mother needs, especially one who's been ripped through, from top to bottom, by something the size of a watermelon (you're welcome) is a bunch of gooney-goo-goo-eyed strangers asking her, "Sooooo, what did you haaaaaave?"

    "A watermelon, I think."

    Didn't help that the toilet was on MY side of the room, either.

    [FLUSH]

    "HIYA, sooooo, what did YOU haaaaaave?"

    Aaaand, that's when I lost it.

    "BWAHHHHH!"

    Long story, short (no, really, you're welcome!) they gave me my own room and, for the next 12 hours, I slept like a baby.

    "HIYA!"

    [We interrupt this day dream to bring you…death by wood chipper]

    I crash landed back and, no, it wasn't Mother Earth (that would be REAL weird, right?) but, it was nice to see my SIL come down to check on me (she happens to work at this hospital) and, well, you gotta love karma, right?

    "Great view, isn't it?"

    Yeah, it really is (albeit, a little melancholy, this time around) and, even though I am half-passed-too-old and a-quarter-to-menopause (ain't being a woman, grand?) I can't help but feel a little sad that, next time, you know, there REALLY won't be a next time.

    "The water looks smooth as glass."

    Good thing there was a bathroom, right there, too!

    [FLUSH]

    Stupid river view.

    Stopdiabetes

    © 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping

  • Nearly Wordless Wednesday:
    The Dance

    Theresa 1964
    My mother's baby sister, Aunt Theresa (holding me) her friend (holding my brother) my dad, my mom and Nagy Mama late spring, 1964.

    Theresa Sassy'nit Up on the Dance Floor! 04/30/52 – 11/02/10

    My Aunt Theresa sass'nit up on the dance floor (with me) on my wedding day (August 25, 1990) whose last wish was to be buried in the same awesomely sassy dress, tomorrow. 

    Until we meet again…save me a dance, my sweet and awesomely sassy Keresztmama (Godmother, in Hungarian) you will be missed, never forgotten and forever loved for ALL your sassyness and more!!! 

    Forever yours, Sziszike.

    Friggin' Diabetes.

    Stopdiabetes

    © 2010 This Full House Blog / This Full House Gone Shopping

  • Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Girls
    (All Growed-Up)

    Holly and Heather Easter 1996
    I was cleaning out their closet, the other day (which, admittedly, I don't do very often, because, it's REALLY scary in there) when I came across this picture aaaaand, I had a major heart squeeze, right there, in the middle of the sock basket.

    TFH Sisters
    Nope, don't know how THAT happened…either…but, it WAS a whole lot quicker than I thought.

    Stupid closet!!!

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    © 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping

     

  • Calling Out the Bully

    When I was going to school (you know, the days when television reminded parents what time it is and where their children are) there were four ways in which you dealt with bullies.

    1. Run away (real fast)
    2. Stand your ground (get your butt whipped)
    3. Tell a teacher (then run away, real fast)
    4. Don't bother going back to school.

    Point being, survival instincts kick in sometime around kindergarten graduation, as the proverbial lines are drawn and the definition of social order rapidly declines to a melee of rumors, innuendos and incoherent speculations.

    And that's just the parents!

    If I had a dollar for each time my kids (or I) have lost sleep worrying over some new abuse another kid supposedly discovered, well, we would have afforded to go to Disney, at least once, by now.

    Yeah, I've seen plenty of lockers pasted with "no bully zone" and "just say no to bullying" stickers on the dozen (or so) back-to-school nights my husband and I have attended, over the years and honestly, I still can't help but think…meh…why bother.

    If only it were that easy.

    "Well, I got shot today."

    Then, my son (he's 11) came home from school yesterday and, well, I had the same exact look on my face that you probably have, right now, trust me.

    He pulled his sleeve up, I saw the angry welt (like, maybe someone used a rubber band to fling something sharp, like a paper clip) and I don't remember much after that, really, besides drilling my poor son, like a suspect.

    Then, I sat down and wrote my first email to the principal and when I say first, I mean…ever.

    Long story, short (you're welcome!) his response, less than 5 minutes later, made me feel better about my decision to NOT worry about sounding like "that mom" (for once) or, whether OTHER parents will think that my kid is a wimp (or, not) and just focus on helping my son, you know, do the right thing.

    Call out the bully (in this case, the bullies) make the kid take responsibility for his/her actions (not the parents) and, maybe, just maybe, we can ALL get a little more sleep, for once.

    (P.S. My son met with his principal, by himself, today and, although he admits to feeling "sad about telling on someone," more than I am worried about the other kids seeking retribution, I'm glad that the lines of communication are now, you know, open.)

    (P.P.S. Being verbally harassed on the bus, daily, is typical 7th and 8th grader shenanigans pulled on incoming 6th graders.  Yeah, I get it.  Don't touch my kid.)

    (P.P.P.S. My son's middle school is creating a special number kids can text, when they observe bullying, that goes right to the principal — what a great idea, right?)

    © 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping

     

  • Wordless Wednesday:
    A-Maize-ing

    Hopey Corn Maze 2010 No, you are most certainly NOT almost as tall as the corn…DAMMIT?!?

    Taken with my cell phone.  Imagine what I could do with a REAL camera?  Yeah, I'm looking at you, Garth (not his real name!)

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    © 2010 This Full House Blog / This Full House Gone Shopping

  • If You Give a 14 Year-Old PlayDoh

    Playdoh

    Nope, you are NEVER too old for PlayDoh! 

    BONUS points if you can, uh, guess which 14 yo is, you know, mine?

    LINKY LOVE BYTES:

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    Wordless Wednesday on 5 Minutes for Mom

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    Full House Blog     / This Full House Gone Shopping