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Wake me up when New Year's ends!
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© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
Tag: raising teens and tweens
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Wordless Wednesday: Smile, It’s the Holidaze!
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I Saw Mommy Shake Down Santa Claus
My husband, Garth [not his real name] and I attended his company's holiday party, last weekend and — although, this is our 21st Christmas — it's been a long time since we've attended a company party, together.
"Should we valet-it, tonight?"
We had no choice (no self-parking allowed) seriously, the banquet center is in a real swanky part of the county (I could very nearly spit to Bon Jovi's and Springsteen's house) but, everyone was allowed to bring a guest.
"I don't believe you've met my wife…"
Actually, we both knew only a handful of folks and there were, like, over 200
people there (no biggie, after BlogHer, I know) but, the atmosphere was that of 1 big happy family (mostly) and we ALL toasted my husband's upcoming 1st anniversary with The Kinder and Gentler Bank."Would you like another glass of Pinot Grigio?"
Did I mention, there was an open bar?
"I'll have the Chateau Briand, thank you!"
Needless to say, Garth [not his real name] and I were dressed to impress and enjoy ourselves (i.e. no sweatshirts, or hoodies allowed) as it was the 1st time that we've been out, together (sans children) in, like, weeks, months, um…what year is it, again?
"BUUUUUUT, YOU PROMISED TO TAKE ME TO THE MALL!"
Seriously, on a Saturday, at Christmas?
"Yes, you did."
I must have been high on Lysol, or something, but my husband also reminded me that, since our oldest was sleeping over someone else's house (about danged time, too) Heather kindly offered to sit the rest of our kids, for us.
"You take her and I'll take the rest to Five Below, or something."
Besides, it was Heather's turn for some private mommy time and, at 13, I'm just happy that she still, you know, admits that I am her mother, let alone agrees to be seen with me, in public.
"You can take my car!"
WHOOT!…[cue new car smell]…so, I kissed my husband (whispering, in his ear, something about looking forward to, well, you know, later) and we went our separate ways.
"No…toll…paid…what does that mean, Mom?"
[eyes go wide]
"I dunno, I thought the E-ZPass Lane was open and…OH, FRIG!"
Then, I remembered that I had my husband's car.
"Daddy doesn't have E-ZPass?"
Nope. Aaaaand, I'd blown through 2 tolls, already, which cost my husband (does the math) $50.00 in tickets.
"Aaaand, we haven't even gotten to the mall, yet!"
So, I asked Heather to text her father what happened, hoping that it would give him enough time to, you know, get over it.
Then, he texted back.
"Well, at least, something's getting blown around here."
No he didn't. But, if you have kids, then you KNOW he was thinking it, right?
"I'll make it up to you."
Did I mention that there was going to be an open bar?
"It's not like I haven't heard that one, before."
We really did have a wonderful time at the Christmas party and, as we helped our youngest children find their beds (or, which ever one happened to be the closest) Garth [not his real name] and I were still feeling, you know, toasty.
"I can't sleep; can I go upstairs to Glen's bed?"
[eyes go wide]
"Orrrrrrr, did you guys wanna be alone?"
[the sound of a romantic mood, exploding]
This Christmas, I'm giving Garth [not his real name] the gift of hope.
"Maybe we should just install an E-ZPass in OUR bed."
Or, which ever one happens to be the closest, right?
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
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The Littlest Elf That Could, Fo’Shizzle!
Hope found her sister's infamous skull cap (you know, the one I wrote about, a few years ago, when my middle girl was going through, well, at the time, it seemed like something pretty major) and, as with most things in our house, time heals old parenting
wounds and my husband, Garth [not his real name] and I just don't seem
to sweat small-ish head gear, anymore."Wait, let mommy take your picture!"
You see,
Hope is our youngest and, being 4th in an already long line waiting to get
into the bathroom (my 16 year old has moved in, apparently) and, well, it's like we get a do-over, sort of."You never let US sleepover anyone's house until we were, like, in middle school!"
Yes, but I also pointed out the fact that Hope has never had her own room. Okay, neither did Heather (consider yourself lucky, Holly) but, that's NOT the point.
"When can I get a second hole, like Heather?"
[eyes go wide]
"I think wearing 2 earrings in the same ear looks cool!"
Oh, phew, I thought she meant [remembers that Heather might be reading this, right now] never mind.
"Maybe when you're 10."
WHAT?
I know, I know, but you don't live here (you're welcome!) or have to hear constant comparisons being made on just how terrible of a mother I am, was and forever shall be, no matter what I do, do you?
"Did you hear what Hope did, today?"
I came home from work, one night…um…this week (I think) and, though Garth [not his real name] has stepped up to the dinner plate, rather nicely (his home made chicken fingers taste way better than mine, DAMMIT) let's just say that, apparently, he was a tyrannical slave driver in a previous life and the kids are, you know, beginning to really miss me.
[closes eyes and rubs left temple]
"What now?"
Long story short (you're welcome!) her father was looking through her backpack (seriously, the guy IS anal) when he saw an envelope marked "from the class mom" opened it and found it was filled with change.
"$10.00, to be exact."
Quarters, nickles, dimes and pennies, ALL stuffed into a smallish white envelope.
"What, is she extorting money from the class mom, now?"
Not exactly.
"It's for the teacher's gift."
Apparently, she's lived with me long enough to know that, you know, I sometimes don't remember to sit down and actually read the bazillion handouts, that come home, anymore (seriously, there are some freakishly anal people out there!) and she's absolutely right.
"I'm almost exactly 8 and a half, now."
Yeah, I know and it's making me feel a little sad.
"I can take care of myself, you know."
Okay, more than a little sad.
"So, can I have an allowance?"
I'm all torn up that my littlest elf can NOW reach all the way up to the top shelf.
"NO WAY, WE DON'T EVEN GET AN ALLOWANCE!"
Don't worry, I'll get over it.
"Maybe when you're 10."
But, probably not.
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
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25 Things You Did NOT Want to Know
My friend WeaselMomma (seriously, that's her name) blogged 25 Things You Didn't Want to Know and then dared me to, you know, participate in a little TMI and, well, since I am ALL about finding new ways to avoid the laundry, here you go:
1. Name someone with the same birthday as you. My twin brother, Steve (HAH!)
2. Where was your first kiss? Bobby Nelson kissed me In an abandoned building near my house (What? I live in Jersey, YO!)
3. Have you ever seriously vandalized someone else’s property? Does throwing eggs at the house where meanest man in the neighborhood lived, count?
4. Have you ever hit someone of the opposite sex? Yes, and the besterd deserved it!
5. Have you ever sung in front of a large number of people? Yes, but a large number of people also sang as back up, at the time, so it's all good.
6. What’s the first thing you notice about your preferred sex? Eyes. My husband, Garth [not his real name] for example, has the prettiest pair of smiling eyes I ever saw and they change from green to blue and sometimes even gray, depending on what he's wearing, so cool.
7. What really turns you off? Bullies (cyber and IRL)
8. What do you order at Starbucks? I'm a McCafe sort of girl, really.
9. What is your biggest mistake? Thinking that I can make everyone (and their Grandmother) happy.
10. Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose? No.
11. Say something totally random about yourself. I can raise my right eyebrow (only) and do that, "Live long and prosper," Star Trek thing with my hands.
12. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity? Yes. My husband thinks I look a lot like Mariska Hargitay (riiiiiiiight, we both have Hungarian dads…that's about it) and I get stopped by senior citizens at the grocery store, a lot, when I wear my "smart girl glasses," telling me that I look like Sarah Palin. Also, just last night, when my son had two of his friends over playing Scene It and they ALL thought I looked like Demi Moore (in Ghost) aaaaand, if I don't shave my legs, Sasquatch!
13. Do you still watch kiddie movies or TV shows? Yes. I still adore watching Disney movies and there's just something about Sponge Bob….bahahahahahahahahahaha.
14. Did you have braces? No. Wish I did. My oldest two are getting braces in March [shiver] so, I guess I will just have to live vicariously through their having straighter teeth, in a few years, or twenty.
15. Are you comfortable with your height? Yes and no. Although, I've grown used to my 5' 10' frame, I find myself hunching over a lot and blame ALL you shorter people for, you know, my bad posture!
16. What is the most romantic thing someone of the preferred sex has done for you? My husband makes me a fresh pot of coffee (or, caw-fee, if you're from Jersey) every morning, for the last twenty years. What? Caw-fee lovers will perhaps agree, that this is TOTALLY sex-see!!!
17. When do you know it’s love? When he/she makes you coffee, in the morning.
18. Do you speak any other languages? I can speak, read and write Hungarian; some Spanish; know lots of curse words, in many others.
19. Have you ever been to tanning salon? No.
20. Have you ever ridden in a limo? Yes.
21. What’s something that really annoys you? Driving in friggin' Jersey, 'nuf said!
22. What’s something you really like? Christmas music (sorry, Melisa!)
23. Can you dance? At cocktail hour, most anyone can! Can I dance well is another question and, well, I think I've already answered THAT one.
24. Have you ever been rushed by an ambulance into the emergency room? Unfortunately, yes. Friends and family will agree, I am perhaps the clumsiest person on the planet!
25. Tag 5 people! Okay [slapping you on the back] TAG, YOU'RE IT!
Because, I'm not very good at following rules (I get that from my Hungarian grandmother) feel free to leave a comment, answering any one of these questions, and, well, we'll call it even, okay?
Have a great weekend!
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
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Are You Smarter Than the Head of a Money Laundering Ring?
So, how's that part-time job going? Pretty well, actually. I got paid (yes, REAL money) last week and, well, I was rich (or, richer than the week before, anyway) for all of 5 seconds, when I remembered that, you know, I signed up for direct deposit.
DAMMIT!
It ALL goes into the "house" account, anyway.
Yes, I have a debit card, but it's just not the same as handing over a ten spot and not caring if you get change back, or telling the kid behind the counter to, you know "Keep the change," is it?
As if, I could ever justify buying a cup of coffee (or, if you're from Jersey, it's a cup-uh-caw-fee) for the cost of a gallon of milk and a dozen eggs, too, in some places, right?
Then, I was doing the laundry the other day (I know, act surprised, anyway) and I hit pay dirt!
"That's mine!"
My oldest girls have been helping out A LOT around the house, lately (under duress, from their father, of course) although, I'd love to be able to offer them an allowance, I don't remember the last time I got paid for, you know, doing my laundry.
"How do you know it's yours?"
Besides, they both have regular baby-sitting gigs and STILL get paid way better than I do.
"Beeeeecause, Holly loaned me five bucks."
My 10-year-old son, not so much.
"But, I lost it."
Aaaand, he's real bad with money.
"She gave me some, too."
My 8-year-old, however?
"But, mine's in my pocket!"
One beat…two beats…
"Wait a minute, let me see that money!"
Tell me, is it like this at your house?
8yo: "Hey, that's mine!"
10yo: "How DO YOU know?"
8yo: "Because, that's MY lip gloss!"
10yo: "Well, that IS my paper clip!"
8yo: "Here, you can have it!"
10yo: "That's NOT fair….Mooooooom!"
Aaaand, if it's not like this at your house.
"Here then take the lip gloss, too!"
Then lie to me, and I'll be sure to save you a nice warm spot, okay?
"It's got to be worth at least 4 bucks."
Beeeeecause, hell has GOT to be better than doing the laundry!
8yo: "Wait a minute, let me see that lip gloss!":
In my house, anyways.
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
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A Thanksgiving Prank Gone Bad
It was the night before Thanksgiving, and all through the house, not a creature was sleeping, except for the boy and his, well, that's our Doofus Dawg and he is WAY bigger than a mouse.
Then, someone suggests, quite innocently,"Wouldn't it be funny, if we painted his toe nails?"
Now, most people would probably think, "Yes, but it wouldn't be very nice."
"Why yes, yes, it would, I'll get the nail polish!"
Then again, we are NOT most people, he IS the only boy in the house and, well, the kid pretty much pranks us…ALL THE TIME…so, it's all in the name of good, clean, fun, right?
"You're gonna make him cry."
Apparently, my 13 yo did NOT think it was such a great idea, but went along with it, anyway.
"That's just not right."
Neither did my husband, Garth [not his real name] who woke up with his fingernails painted, once, but that time I…I mean…we painted them black and he DID notice before leaving the house for work.
"Shhhh, you're gonna wake him up."
My son, however, slept through it all and it wasn't until sometime, in the middle of breakfast, the next day, that he even noticed!
"GAAAAAH, who painted my toenails?!?"
Aaaand, there was much giggling.
[eyes go wide]
Until, it dawned on him that, you know, someone painted HIS toenails.
"I told you he would cry."
Yeah, maybe we should have listened to Heather (obviously, she HAS more sense than her mother) but, my SIL was a little surprised at how upset he got (having slept over, on the night in question) and, well, she, or I would have let him in on the prank, before anyone else arrived for Thanksgiving dinner.
"I am SO embarrassed!"
Then again, maybe I've grown a little too used to dealing with girls, who cry, just because they can and aren't boys supposed to be all, you know, snakes and snails and puppy dog tails?
"I'm SO sorry, Bud; I really thought you'd think it was funny!"
Apparently, I was wrong…AGAIN!
"Well, IT'S NOT!"
I stood there, watching him, as he tried to wipe the nail polish off with a wet piece of toilet paper, and I wanted to crawl under a rock, and die, probably just as much as he wanted me to, if not more, I'm sure.
"Here, let me do that for you."
I grabbed the nail polish remover and started to, you know, try and clean up yet ANOTHER BIG MESS I'd gotten us into and, well, we each took turns and thanked my son for accepting our apologies, as half-assed as it sounds, at the moment.
"We didn't mean to make you cry!"
Lesson Learned: Girls are spice and everything nice, until their brother's asleep and there happens to be a bottle of nail polish, near by.
"Besides, you can always stick one of their fingers in a glass of warm water and make them pee their beds!"
Less than smart mothers, like me, however, deserve nothing more than strained carrots and peas, or made to watch the Doodle Bops, until our eyes explode AND our ears begin to bleed.
"No, that would be mean."
Although, he DID giggle…a little…me, too.
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
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Ghosts of Thanksgiving Past
Bud and Pam's 1st Thanksgiving 2008
Over the years, I've grown accustomed to having family over for the holidays and, as the kids get older, I find myself worrying less about the table setting (nope, it doesn't match) or, the food preparation (yes, some of it comes out of a can) not to mention, I don't bother too much about making lists, anymore (seriously?) or, worry whether I've managed to hunt down each and every dust bunny (they're sort of like pets, really and I've even named a few) or not.
Because, no matter how my husband, Garth [not his real name] and I try, we've come to accept the simple fact that, with a family as big as ours (direct and extended) somethings just don't go right and, before you can say, "Pass the potatoes," someone's puking all over your nice, clean and shiny floors.
Last year?
I pretty much insisted that I would not mind it, in the least, if my brother and his wife, you know, did Thanksgiving.
Because, in our house, it isn't the holidays unless someone in the family is sick or is scheduled for a surgical procedure, like tomorrow.
Although, my middle girl, Heather (she's 13) is STILL dealing with the same danged creeping crud (WAY better than I have, I might add) it seems to have gone into hibernation.
[knocking on wood until knuckles bleed]
So, the rest of my kids are getting used to learning how to share, rather than compete, for our attention (unfortunately, these days, everything is viral) and my parents, well, they're getting older, too.
Each year, we get to spend together, however difficult, unplanned, or imperfect, IS a gift.
All things considered, along with a few things I haven't bothered to mention (you're welcome) I am very thankful that this passed year wasn't, you know, any worse.
This week?
My brother got some really bad news (cancer can #suckit) and then, with the help of some of our closest Internet friends (yeah, I'm surprised that he friended me on Facebook, too) my brother gave cancer a BIG old-fashioned Jersey bitch-slap, it deserves.
HOOAH!
Although, we probably won't be able to see him and my SIL on Thursday (stupid cancer) I am thankful to know that they are, at least, you know, within spitting distance.
[hocks-a-loogie]
Today?
I'm pretty much ready to take back Thanksgiving and
make that bitch mine."Strep test came back negative, but there's a lot of puss on his tonsils and, well, it could be mono."
Glen is home with…um…something…so, we're waiting and hoping his fever breaks, before Thursday and well, just remember to call first, okay?
"Mom, it's up to 103!!!"
Um…OH!…look over there!
[sniff-sniff]
"Are we still having Thanksgiving?"
Did you happen to notice my nice shiny clean floors?
"Oh yes, there WILL be turkey, dammit!!!"
[hocks-a-loogie]
Have a Happy Thanksgiving — or a reasonable facsimile, thereof.
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
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Bittersweet Sixteen
Happy Sixteenth Birthday, Holly!
Today, you are sixteen. Sixteen; how is that possible; I mean, wasn't it just yesterday, I blogged about how frightened I was about becoming a mom of a teenager?
I still remember blogging about the year you turned ten!
Today, you are sixteen and, well, I'm still waiting for someone to invent a special time machine. You know, something we can simply strap ourselves into and travel back to a time when, I don't know, life seemed a whole lot easier.
Remember when you and Heather would come home from preschool and how the three of us would spend the rest of the afternoon, curled up on the couch, watching television and pretending that we lived in a small cottage, in the woods, like Little Bear's grandmother?
How about the times we would visit Mama and Papa, when they still lived in the house I grew up in and how we would spend hours and hours playing in Mama's vegetable garden, or playing hide and seek behind Papa's grape vines; remember that?
Yeah. A time machine would be fun. Then again, what is it that my grandmother would always say? You remember how you used to call her, "Mamama," right?
Anyhow, Mamama would say:
"Spend all your time looking behind you and you will almost always end up tripping and falling to your knees."
Your great-grandmother never made it passed the 3rd grade and lived in a time when only "rich people" educated their daughters. Still. The woman had a very simple way of making other people feel good about themselves and, well, I still think she was the smartest person I ever knew.
I see a lot of her old world wisdom in you.
Why?
Because, even though I knew that you would have loved a BIG birthday, with princess gowns and lots of glitz and glitter (deservedly so) all you asked for was a sleepover.
"I invited 5 girls and said that you would take us to the mall; is that okay?"
Yes, it is more than okay.
You ARE the oldest of four — I realize it is not always easy to be the first in line — but, your father and I will always remember you as the sweet little baby girl, who couldn't pronounce her L's and would tell people her name was:
"How-wee!"
Now that you're grown (almost) I truly hope that you will, one day, look back and know that, even though we may have tripped up a couple of times (or, twenty) your father and I are very proud of you and love you very, very much.
Even though, sixteen years ago, I already knew that you would, one day, grow up to be the kind, beautiful and sweet person that you've become and that it would also happen…WAY TOO FAST.
Because, I'm smart like that.
Happy 16th Birthday, my sweet baby girl.
Love,
[a.k.a. Mommy]
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.
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Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Don’t Sweat the Dirty Laundry
Sure, when my mother's over, it's a folding party and…NO!…I was NOT even invited!
Although, I gave up hope of ever "finishing" the laundry, a long time ago, I still think it's cute how my mother comes over and gets my kids to help her fold their laundry, sort of.
"I can't believe that this basket is full of JUST socks!"
6 pairs of feet make for a lot of socks, I guess. Still. It's easier to holler at the kids, when they're getting ready for soccer, field hockey, or whatever else requires some extrasensory protection against stinky sports equipment.
"DID YOU CHECK IN THE SOCK BASKET???"
Now that the cooler weather is here, we're going to be hitting the sock basket (pretty hard) and, well, while most people would probably think that blogging about my mother, folding my laundry, with my kids, is pretty, you know, sad and a pathetic state of the blogging universe, these days, really.
"Ewww, this one still looks….crusty."
On the surface, it's snot.
"Like boogers, right?"
To a wigged-out, frustrated and disenchanted blogger (like me) it's all about seizing the moment, to be able to look a little deeper, then commit all of your thoughts and feelings into a few short paragraphs, well, some folks would STILL consider this to be just a silly little story.
"Only Mama can make even folding laundry…look fun!"
I call it sublime poetry.
CLICK!
"You're not going to blog that, are you?"
I just don't sweat the dirty laundry, all that much, anymore.
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© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved
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Rinse, Spit and Don’t Bother Repeating Yourself, I’ll Wait!
Look, she spits just like a little brother!
My 3 girls argue, a lot. Sometimes, it's over really dumb stuff, like, I don't know, this one is copying that one, while the other one is always annoying everyone else (guess which one, go ahead, I'll wait) but, having 3 sisters, who argue, about dumb stuff, all the time, can be awfully hard on a guy.
Still.
At our house, when push comes to shove, it's the teens vs. the tweens and, well, guess who gets to referee? Go ahead, I'll wait.
NOBODY!
"You are such a loser!"
Not anymore.
"Well, you are a bigger loser!"
Especially, now that they're older.
"Nuh-uh!"
It's a never-ending battle of the, yuh-huh's.
"Yuh-huh!"
See what I mean?
"ENOUGH!"
Still, I'm tired; not getting any younger, either (DAMMIT!) and, well, enough is enough, right?
"I MEAN, IF I HAD A DOLLAR FOR EACH TIME I WISH I HAD A SISTER!!!"
I mean, I don't really remember the last time I really "talked" to my kids, without hollering, first.
[blank stares]
Honestly, I'm getting really tired of reminding my kids how I don't see my twin brother as often as I'd like and just how lucky they are to, you know, have each other to argue with, since no one ever seems to want to listen to me.
"Mom, what ARE you talking about?"
See?
"Why would you call your sister a loser, like that?"
[blank stares]
"Catch a grip, Mom; I'm just congratulating Heather for losing all that extra weight she picked up since her surgery."
[blank stare]
"Well, I bet you can't spit as far as Hopey can!"
Okay, so I may not be the quietest, most smartest mother in the world.
"Ready…set…go!"
But, I'm certainly not the dumbest. Guess who won? Go ahead, I'll wait!
© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved