This Full House Archive

Tag: raising teens and tweens

My Kids Think I’m a Stupid Momblogger, I Prefer the Term “Family Chronicler”!

Reading between the lines: HEY, YOU KLUTZ, BEWARE!

I love it when Garth (not his real name) is home for many reasons that I won't bother you with writing a long, drawn out list or anything (you're welcome!) okay, maybe just one.

Pulling up the rear (literally!)

This week, my kids LOVED being able to hang out with their dad (besides, at the supper table or a few minutes before bedtime) as I, once again, played the role of mom blogger.

I said "G'head and do something," and I got this!

Although, I prefer the term: family chronicler (yes, it's a word, spell-check says so) the kids and Garth (NHRN) are used to me falling a bit behind (as usual) but, this time, I felt a terrible desperation to capture AND savor the moment.

The view from the top of the red trail.

I have suffered from back problems for years (car accident in my 20's, birthing 4 babies in my 30's, dumbass 40's) and it's been getting progressively worse.

Holly at the top of the red trail, YAY!

An unexpected trip to the hospital for a kidney stone this past February also confirmed 2 herniated discs in my lower back (a.k.a. 2-for-1 diagnosis…YO!) and a subsequent visit with a neurologist who is still waiting for me to, you know, show up.

Hope at the top of the red trail, ALMOST!

What?!? The man wants to shove a HUGE needle in my back…ON PURPOSE!!!…more than once and then, eventually, introduce more pointy objects into my spine that will keep me flat on my back for weeks.

Heather owning the top of the trail, YOU GO GIRL!

Yeah, I know, I know, there are worse things. Unfortunately, I have friends and family who are suffering from all sorts of physical, mental and emotional pain…as we speak…DAMNIT! So, trust me when I tell you that I am NOT looking for any sympathy, JUST because I am afraid of sharp pointy things.

He's got a smart phone and he's not afraid to use it!

I am, however, scared to death at the thought of being expected to do nothing more than lay flat on my back for weeks. There, I said it and NOT just because Garth (not his real name) will testify to the fact that I am indeed a TERRIBLE patient.

He didn't want me to wait alone, at the top of the red trail.

Apparently, I am an equally AWFUL actress. There was no hiding the fact that the 2-hour car ride had taken its toll — not to mention, attending 2 blogging conferences, in 2 of my most favorite walking cities, in 1 month — as each of my kids took turns holding my hand, clearing a path or asking me if I needed to sit down.

When did they get to be THIS BIG?!?

Not for nothing, but it broke my heart. Kids today have enough to worry about — I have teenagers, trust me, I know — still, my mother is scheduled for surgery this coming Monday (a long overdue shoulder replacement) but, this time she's really, really scared and, well, I finally "get it".

Look, it's the masked blog-guh!

No, I'm not the smartest, bravest or most talented person in cyberspace (seriously, I'm okay with it) however, my kids seem to like hanging out with me inspite of the fact they believe I'm stupid for not going back to the neurologist sooner.

Aaaand that's just all sorts of cool, right?!? RIGHT?!?

[sound of crickets]

Riiiiiight. Stupid back, dumbass 40's.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

August 11, 2012
On Pandemonium, Pneumonia and Piss-Poor Plumbing
If you were to ask me what pandemonium meant, B.C. (before children) I would have suggested that it sort of sounds like a digestive aid for pandas.

Panda. Ammonium. Get it?

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Beeeeeeeecawse, you see, although I had a weird sense of humor (okay, have) I still would NOT have fully understood what pandemonium meant (literally) and probably even spelled it incorrectly as pandamonium, anyway.

Then I had kids, someone invented spell check (PHEW!) and, well, I can safely say that…YES!…we NOW live in a constant state of:
1. any scene of wild confusion or disorder.
2. the abode of all demons (also see: Hell)
Aaaaand, I am NOT even exaggerating. Not one bit.

For example, last February: our new-ish dishwasher broke. I called for service and then had to cancel the day they were scheduled to come and fix the darned thing, because I ended up in the hospital with a kidney stone.

[A whole lot of other stuff happened, since then, but I'm going to just go ahead and fast-forward right by March, April and May, in and effort to save you some time, or perhaps take a quick pause for a bathroom break, or something, you're welcome.]

Fast-forward to this week: our new-is washer broke (oh, and yeah, dishwasher is STILL broken, see note regarding March, April and May) soooo, I made an appointment to have both of them looked at, because I am REAL good at multi-tasking like that.

An hour before the service call: this guy comes knocking and tells me, "Water main down the street is broken, we'll have to turn your water off for 5 hours!" and I burst into tears. Luckily, he was a very understanding fellow (had a wife at home AND knew something about piss-poor plumbing) and even offered me a tissue or twenty.

Half an hour before the service call: called to cancel service (AGAIN!) and repair people were all "We have NEVER had to cancel service due to a water main break," and I was all, "Of course you haven't," and "This sort of sh*t only happens to us!"

The next day (Wednesday, of this week, to help you keep up): service guy calls me, while parked in my driveway (sort of like my husband does, so I was okay with it) to ask if our water is on.

During the service call: Doctor's office calls to tell me that the results of my youngest daughter's radiology report from two weeks ago confirms — Hope has pneumonia. Aaaaand, the service guy is all like, "Don't cry!" He didn't have any tissues and I was all, like "It's okay, I still had some from the other guy."

Flash-back, two weeks ago: I was scheduled to work the last day of school in Hope's 5th grade class, except she got sick. Good thing my husband was home from work (took day off for oldest daughter's h.s. graduation, later that afternoon) soooo, he took Hope down to the emergency walk in place. They took an x-ray, said she sounded fine and probably had an upper-respiratory infection and sent them home with antibiotics.

[Note to Self: emergency walk in place does NOT read x-rays taken at emergency walk in place, okay, good to know.]

Yesterday: I called our pediatrician, apologized for cheating on her and took Hope in for an emergency follow-up appointment.

Today: I am happy to report that Hope is fine (she's well onto the road to a full recovery, thank goodness!) and that the parts for both the dishwasher AND washing machine should be here by this weekend.

A few minutes ago: the phone rings, I get a text message AND an emergency email ALL at the same time saying,"Water company has experienced a significant pipe failure…"

I don't know what the rest of it said. I sort of stopped listening after pipe failure.

Morale of the Story: I wasn't lying when I said this sh*t happens to us ALL the time!

Ummmmm….can I use your bathroom?!?

EDITED TO ADD (6/30): Believe it or not, right after I blogged this, Monmouth County (that's us!) issued a state of emergency. A temporary bridge (courtesy of Hurricane Irene) collapsed, damaging some pipes and contaminating our water supply = boil our water until next week, maybe. Seriously, karma is PISSED!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House
June 29, 2012
Because Some Things Just Shouldn’t Be Shared on Instagram
Alternate Blog Title: Happy 11th Birthday…OH YEAH!…and congratulations on that OTHER thing, Hopey!

It's not like I'm worried about embarrassing my kids or anything (recap: 3 of them are teens, enough said!) still, I think to myself…SELF!…think before you blog:
- Okay, so this cool/funny thing happened.
- Or that would really make an awesome story.
- OH YEAH! The other thing? Totally blog-worthy, right?
Self: Okay, great, but maybe people don't give a flying rat's tail about this, or that…OH YEAH!…and that other thing too…and, well, there's always Instagram, right?

BAH! See what I mean? All this thinking? Makes my head hurt. So, I'm just going to go on faith here and share with you this really blog-worthy thing that happened.

Aaaaand, by blog-worthy I mean:
- I messed up in some way or another and lived to tell the tale, regardless of the fact that you may or may not give a rat's tail whether I did so or not.
- I feel someone may benefit, by my messing up and then telling the tale, in some way or another and no more talk of rat's tails, okay?
In fact, if you've been reading me for any length of time (glutton for punishment, eh?) perhaps you've already benefited by my messing up in some way or another and, well, you're welcome!

Still, I promise NOT to go into any great detail (no, it's my pleasure, really!) because, well, it is somewhat of a sensitive subject and I wouldn't want to embarrass anyone or anything.

WARNING: We are about to head into female territory and the occasional mention of bodily functions may or may not be shared.

(more…)
June 25, 2012
Nearly Wordless Wednesday: WAY TO GO, HOLLY!!!!

Click to enlarge (go ahead, she won't mind…too much)

That awkward moment when, typically NOT one for being the center of attention, your family HOLLERS YOUR NAME and you kinda…sorta…think it's a little cool…maybe. Don't worry, we promise to be a little less excited for you once college is over and done with…probably not…YO!!!!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

June 20, 2012
Barbie the Verklempt Killer

Having been married for nearly 22 years (wait, that makes me sound way too old) or the entire life span of an average college graduate (ugh, never mind) I feel it safe to say that one of the reasons our relationship works is that my husband Garth (not his real name) and I are total opposites.

One of us is emotional and the other more of an intellectual. Guess which one? Go ahead, I'll wait.

If you guessed me as the emotional one, CONGRATULATIONS!!!

[hugs]

You are ABSOLUTELY right in thinking I am less apt to intellectualize feelings and most likely bringing attention to myself (right now, even) showing off my non-verbal communications skillz…in public.

In other words, I'm probably hugging someone…who does NOT like, let alone even wish to be…you know…hugged…right now.

[hugs]

Sorry. I just canNOT help myself. It's in my genes. In fact, I'm raising a houseful of emotional empaths, we're ALL verklempt up in here.

"You want to come into the school's office with me?"

My oldest girl is graduating high school and my youngest is graduating elementary school this week.

[hand to heart]

Aaaaand, I'm trying really, really hard not to be all…you know…verklempt.

"Maybe you'll see some of your old teachers."

My two oldest girls were home from school (I forget why, although it doesn't really matter, considering these days it's a chore for me to remember their names, moving on) and we (okay, mostly me) thought it would be fun to see if they…you know…remember how much fun…school used to be.

"Look, there's your music teacher, Mrs. B!"

We've gone through many, many teachers in the 13 years my kids have attended this school (at least 13, please don't ask me to name them all) however, Mrs. B is definitely a favorite.

"Are you guys still in high school?"

My middle girl pointed to her oldest sister.

"I am, but she's graduating!"

[eyes go wide]

"Now I feel REALLY old!"

I just stood there, nodding my head, not so much because I couldn't think of anything to say (I know, act surprised anyway, okay?) however, teenagers embarrass rather easily (see previous parenthesis) and, well, they're probably already annoyed with me (right now, even) so, I turned my attention to the office staff.

"I wanted to thank you ladies for all of your…"

[cough]

"…for all of your…

[choke]

"…support over the years."

[clears throat]

"Seeing as it's our last year at this school and everything."

[fans face with hands]

"Thank you…[cough]…all…[choke]…for all that…[clears throat]…you do."

This time, it was Mrs. B's turn to put her hand to her heart.

"Your getting ME all verklempt!"

And so it goes. I do that to intellectuals.

"Want to watch a movie together, like we used to when you were little?"

My oldest was exempt from all but one of her finals this week (yes, I know, she does NOT get it from me) so, she offered to help sit with my youngest (she's home sick from school, it's how we roll) and then came running back into the kitchen.

[places hand on heart]

"She…[cough]…picked…[choke]…a Barbie…[clears throat]…movie!!!"

Funny, I always thought her more of an intellectual, she MUST get that part from her father.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

June 11, 2012
The Sad World of the Misunderstood Euphemism, and Zombies
My husband, Garth (not his real name) is a good guy. I mean, like, Eagle Scout good and anyone who knows us (IRL) would most definitely agree adding, "Well, the man IS married to you."

Aaaaand, I'm okay with it (the fact that he's married to me AND the aforementioned euphemism) because, trust me, I am WELL aware of my own limitations.

Like, my inability to withstand the mechanical forces of the earth's gravitational pull (I fall down, A LOT!) or, my penchant for breaking things…okay…wait…for…it…A LOT!

Then, my lack of patience (see also: previous paragraph) is legendary, which makes me simultaneously annoying and popular with the customer service set.

Oh, and the fact that my husband left the house feeling a bit hacked-off (sorry, had kids home sick this week and have Harry Potter and The Deathly Hollows Part II on the brain) and I'm sitting here, acting all misunderstood and everything, with a bazillion OTHER THINGS I SHOULD BE DOING, LIKE:
- Clean the house: but, it's raining and the vacuum is very-nearly-dead.
- Wash the dishes: dishwasher is…wait…for…it…broken.
- Fold laundry: don't want to disturb the cat.
- Wrangle the killer dust bunnies: I believe in raising 'em free range.
- Go grocery shopping: although, I did find some hot dogs and sandwich bread.
- Get my oil changed: in the car I mean, mine is fine (I think).
- Continue ignoring the fact I've got a kid graduating high school in, like, 2 weeks: enough said.
- Prepare for the Zombie Apocalypse: it's coming, y'all.
Aaaaand, this is the part where you guys should be all…like…dude, is your husband ever coming back?

I hope so. For as much as he thinks I hate him, at the moment, truth is I love Garth (not his real name) more than my Dyson (may it rest in peace) and can't imagine celebrating another day (above ground) without him.

He is my good-er half.

Also, our niece is getting married next summer and you know the part where the officiant happily declares the newly married couple as man and wife?

It's going to take ALL of my strength NOT to holler out: brace yourselves, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!

Besides, NO ONE is better at putting their hand over my mouth, without ruining my lipstick, than Garth (not his real name) and…wait a second…I really DID mean that, literally…although, on second thought…um…never mind.

I can hear the zombies now, "No brains! Move along!"

You are safe here, my friends, stupid euphemisms.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House
May 25, 2012
At Our House, It’s Called a Blood Drive-By

As a mother of 3 teens, 1 kid in double-digits and Supreme Goddess of All Things Domestic (in my house, anyways) I feel it safe say that there is NOTHING worse than battling a foreign object, invading your child's body, that you canNOT see.

3yo Heather: Hey…wook…isn't that where you gave bwud, How-wee?

Unless, you have to take said child to have their blood drawn and, well, game over dude!

5yo Holly/How-wee: I didn't give it…Heatherrrrr…THEY TOOK IT!

Even years later, my two oldest daughters would play out this same conversation, every time we'd drive by the building, where they each got their "bwud tooken" and, well, How-wee…I mean…Holly will tell you…YES!..it was THAT traumatic.

[pulls up sleeve]

Me: Dude…they won't take your blood here.

I took my son to the doctor, yesterday. Long story, short (you're welcome) he's got a nasty case of some sort of creeping crud she couldn't quite identify and, well, now it was his turn to have his "bwud tooken".

Me: We have to go…you know…[whispers]…to that OTHER place.

[eyes go wide]

This is the kid that doesn't get sick. He's only heard stories, from his oldest sisters, whenever we would drive by the place where they had their blood…you know…tooken.

Receptionist: Name?

Me: Glen [whispering] he's never had his blood…tooken…I mean…taken.

The receptionist just nodded her head and, thankfully, the place was empty. Except for this one kid, going ALL ape sh*t, and his sh*thead father:

Kid, going ALL ape sh*t: BWAAAAAAAAH!!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!! NOOOOOOOO!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!

His sh*thead father: SHUDDUP!!!! SHUDDUP!!! SHUDDUP!!!

So, my son and I just sat down and…you know…covered our ears.

Medical Asst.: Glen?

It was funny to watch the receptionist's face, as he stood up and she handed my son a cup. I swear, you could actually hear her neck muscles pop.

Medical Asst.: You can leave it on the bathroom sink and then go right into Room #1.

[eyes go wide]

Medical Asst.: Oh relax, your friends probably hit you harder than this is gonna hurt!"

Thank goodness for kind-hearted medical assistants, right?

Glen: Buuuuuut, no one said ANYTHING about peeing in a cup!

[blink-blink-blink]

Me: Well, I didn't think it would be SUCH a big deal.

[voice cracking]

Glen: Buuuuuut, it's a really small cup!

Judging by the way the she was laughing…I guessed correctly…the medical assistant was a mother AND happened to have a teen boy at home…too.

Stupid blood tests, dumbass creeping crud.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

FRESHLY-BREWED ELSEWHERE: I'm over at PlaydatePlace.com this week, confessing not teaching my kids how to ride a bike. Also, sharing a recipe for Angel Food Cake that does NOT suck!

May 15, 2012
So Emotional, I Blame Glee (and @BurghBaby!)

Just another Gleek rocking out to Whitney!

Yes, yes, I know. Then again, I am a total dork from waaaaaay back. Who knew being dorky/geeky/nerdy/whatever-y would be so cool and would you believe that I have NEVER blogged about Glee?

Truth be told, I sometimes forget it's on.

Me: Why aren't you in the shower?
10 year-old: Glee is on!

Or our resident Gleek forgets to…you know…tell me…for fear of being subjected to my singing along and no, I do NOT blame her.

Last night's episode, however, was a tribute to Whitney Houston and, well, the two of us? We have a history. In fact, we spent many nights on the dance floor together, singing our hearts out and insisting that…you know…it would be really, really, really nice to dance with somebody…DAMMIT!

"Is the show going to end, you know, now that the kids are graduating?"

My 13 year-old son? Not a big fan.

[eyes go wide]

Aaaaaaand…only then did it really hit me…like a ton of 45's (look it up, youngster!) Holy Hannah Montana, I've got a kid graduating, high school, this year!

Aaaaaaand…oh, how I cried…and cried…OH!…and single-dad Burt's speech to his son, Kurt? Admitting that he's not ready to say goodbye and how much he'll miss his only son? I'M BAWWWWWWWWWWLING!!!!

Which begs the question: how in the heck am I going to get it through my own kid's graduation ceremony, without BAWWWWWWWWWWLING, IRL?!?

Ditto!!! Because, in my head I'm still, like, 19 (never mind, just how long ago WAS that, anyways, whip-puh-snap-puh!) except, now I'm rocking out with shorter hair, looser clothing and better fitting shoes…DAMMIT!

"Oh, I forgot tell you mom, a notice came home about my 5th grade graduation."

[one beat, two beats]

I'M BAWWWWWWWWWWLING…AGAIN!!!!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 25, 2012
Aaaaand, Now For More “Break Curfew and I’ll Show This Video to Your Girl/Boyfriend!” Blog Fodder

My son's voice is changing. A lot. It's okay, he knows he sounds funny. So, I shot this quick video while hunting for apple cider donuts during spring break, last week.

Aaaaand, now I'm sorta mad at myself for not thinking of doing something like this back when I first started blogging…9 years ago…when he was 4 years-old (I think) because it would have made for some really awesome "Break curfew and I'll show this video to your girlfriend!" blog fodder.

So, I video-taped my youngest for good measure. You know, seeing as the kid is 10…going on 29…and most likely eloping, getting married jumping out of an airplane, or something involving the use of some sort of underwater breathing apparatus, anyway.

Then, she can send me THAT video and we'll go ahead and just call it even.

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Want a donut? I skinned it and everything!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 17, 2012
Don’t Mess With Mother Nature, She Probably Has Teens

The kids have been on spring break since Friday and, since my oldest is scheduled to work this week/weekend and needs the car to, you know, get there (it's about a 30 minute ride down the Parkway, in Jersey speak) we're pretty much rooted close to home.

By yesterday afternoon 2 out of 4 of them weren't speaking to each other (because, girls are pretty much women in training, just so you know) the boy and I needed some fresh air. Also, the roast had about another hour left. So, we took Doofus-dawg for a quick walk before dinner.

It also gave us (meaning, the boy and me) a chance to talk, reconnect and perhaps address a few issues (because, teenagers, they hazem) that otherwise may have gotten lost or mixed in with the rest of the miss-matched socks in the house…YO!

We've weathered some pretty bad storms, lately (literally and figuratively speaking) and Mother Nature hasn't been very kind to our neighborhood, either.

Hurricane Irene reduced one of their favorite paths, once a bridge into a fairy world filled with magical possibilities, as a place to be feared, neglected and left totally abandoned.

No matter how many times we changed our direction, we were reminded of just how fragile our world has become and my son was trying really hard to understand why I would want to take pictures of such random things.

I tried to explain with this broken sidewalk. Yesterday it served as a medium for space travel. Who knows what story it will tell, tomorrow?

I don't know if it stuck. The boy is only 13. Also, he asked that I stop taking pictures so that we could get home and check to see if dinner was ready and, well, 13 year-old boys really do get hungry, A LOT.

"Hey, but thanks for the walk mom."

Aaaaand, next time, I'm thinking about dying my hair purple.

"My head feels a whole lot better."

Mine too, enough said.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 11, 2012