This Full House Archive

Tag: raising teens and tweens

  • A Hungarian’s Recipe for Hungarian Gulash: You Say Goulash, I Say Gulyas – Let’s Just Call it Soup!

    Hungarian Gulyas (the real one!)

    This is what Hungarian Gulyas (a.k.a. Gulash, Goulash) is supposed to look like (for real!)

    You may or may not know that my twin brother Steve and I are first generation born Americans. 

    Yep, we grew up in the kitchen, breathing in the delicious aromas of my mother's and grandmother's Hungarian cooking.

    Feel free to trust me when I tell you that there is absolutely NOTHING better than a big old steaming bowl of happiness, served up with some crusty bread, on a cold, wet, gloomy, or slightly sad sort of day.

    Hungarian comfort food, baby!

    You know that reddish-brown-gravy-laden stew-type dish served over noodles and featured as "Hungarian Goulash" in cookbooks and cooking magazines?

    Nope, that is actually called Pörkölt (purr-curlt) although, also filed under Hungarian comfort food, it is very versatile and can be prepared using beef, veal, lamb or chicken (a.k.a. chicken paprikash!)

    You can find my family's recipe for Pörkölt HERE!

    Gulyas (ghoul-yah-sh) on the other hand, is a soup. 

    Backstory:  Gulya in Hungarian means herdsman, or cowboy.  Gulyas (a.k.a. Gulash, Goulash) means "of the herdsman," who would have prepared this dish in a cast iron pot hitched over a stone fire pit while working the puszta (pooh-stuh) or the Hungarian prairie, if you will.

    Although, they probably didn't include dumplings in their recipe (I don't think.)

    I mentioned something on Facebook about making Hungarian Gulyas (et al) yesterday and then promised to share my family's recipe here with everyone, too!

    So, to set the record straight:

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  • Dressing Room Conspiracy (The Vlog)

    Just a few afterthoughts:

    • Yes, my nose is always THAT itchy (I swear!) It is a nose of substance (SNORT!)
    • Turns out, schlub is a real word after all (thought I was being all cleh-vuh, shoulda known beh-tuh, DER!)
    • But, it's not what I meant (less mean like and more Jabba the Hut-ish.)
    • See thumbnail above (seriously?)

    I will post "the dress" my almost-16yo picked for me (it's like this one, only in black/silver) before I go out on Saturday AND once I shave my legs, of course!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

     

  • Eloquence, Thy True Name is Silence

    You know what's funny?  Not in a, "What do you call a fake noodle?" an impasta (hahahahahaha!) sort of way, either.

    The fact that I have a kid graduating high school (still not the funny part and kind of sad, really, but don't get me started, m'kay?) and everyone is all, like, has she picked a college yet?

    No matter how many times I get asked.  I feel funny answering them.

    "Um…well…she's not sure…that is…uh…not right now, maybe later…er…what?"

    YES!  I am the anti-eloquent.  Articulate people fear me.

    Most recently, standing in line at Dunkin' Donuts in the supermarket (the peppermint hot chocolate was mocking me and deserved a good tongue-lashing, okay?) 

    "How are you, Liz?"

    GAH!

    The thing about having 4 kids, going to 4 separate schools, I pretty much can't go anywhere in town without running into someone who has/had a kid going to school with one of my kids.

    [eyes go wide]

    This time, however, I actually managed to scare the buh-jeez-us out of her with a single word.  And, not a real one at that = I.M. Talented.

    "Sorry, perhaps you should consider cutting back…eh?"

    Thinking back on it now, I should have played along by telling her I was there for the hot chocolate.  But, we're talking me = Queen of the Afterthought.

    "How are the kids?"

    Here we go.

    "Oh, they're fine, thanks!"

    Well, that was easy.

    "Your oldest is graduating, right?"

    Damn.

    "Yes, yes she is."

    Phew.  Too easy.

    "Has she picked a college, yet?"

    Damn.  Also, as if it were THAT easy.

    "No, no she hasn't."

    C'mon hot chocolate.

    "But, my middle girl is going to BU."

    [eyes go wide]

    "What grade is she in, again?"

    [grin]

    "She's a sophomore in high school."

    She politely nodded her head, I paid for my hot chocolate, we exchanged pleasantries about the upcoming holidays and then each went on our merry way.

    Morale of the Story:  When in doubt, don't say anything.  Bring up one of your OTHER kids, instead…or something like that.

    Seeing as my middle girl really does have her mind set on going to Boston University, ever since the 5th grade and, well, it's like I told my oldest.

    "There is NO SHAME in working your way through college."

    Besides, that way, I get to keep them around for a little while longer…but, shhhhh…don't say anything, okay?!?

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

  • Bathroom/Library Redo, Done, For Real (I Think!)

    So, remember how I decided to redo the bathroom/library a few days before hosting a houseful on Thanksgiving?

    Aaaaand, then I was just sitting there, minding my own business and preparing a mental list of things to forget….GASP!!!!

    Bathroom Before 5
    When I realized that, after taking the poor beat up old pantry (up there) out to the garage….I mean….storage area….there was absolutely nothing to lean on while, you know, thinking.

    Then, my husband Garth (NHRN) had a brilliant idea.

    "Why don't you just take the door off and put those basket thingies in it?!?"

    [blink, blink, blink]

    BRILLIANT!!! 

    So, on Thanksgiving Eve, I repainted it (pistachio) then sponged it (golden rod) for good measure.  Now we have a place to lean on AND store our unmentionables and stuff.

    Although, someone swiped my brand new magazines and cut 'em all up to make a collage for a last-minute art project [cough-cough-Holly-cough-cough] DAGNABIT!

    So, I "borrowed" two baskets from someone's cubby (thanks, Holls!) because, parenting IS all about give and take, you know?

    NOW…I feel content in officially calling the bathroom/library redo…done (I think!) and you're welcome.

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

    I'm NaBloPoMo-ing it, this month (first time NaBloPoMo-er) feel free to check out what I've NaBloPoMo-ed, thus far (PHEW!) and let me know how I'm doing (I mean, 30 posts, in 30 days, really?!?) when you have time, of course!

      Feed me, see more!

  • All Decked Out & No Place Like Home

    Black Friday at Gram's House

    Decking the halls, walls and/or anything that stood still long enough at my mother-in-law's house on Friday.  But, wait, there's more!

    DSCN9461
    Hope all decked-out and taking a well-deserved break before dinner guests arrived at our house, last night.  But, not quite finished yet.

    Mama and Papa's Tree

    Because, today at their Mama's and Papa's house, the kids are getting REAL GOOD at trimming trees.  Anyone else need any help? Got hot chocolate?  A dozen cookies, or twenty?

    Home again, all snuggled in my favorite chair and enjoying a hot cup of tea.  Let the holidaze begin!

    In the meantime, I'll be right ovuh-heh, unable to move until probably sometime mid-December…YO!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

    I'm NaBloPoMo-ing it, this month (first time NaBloPoMo-er) feel free to check out what I've NaBloPoMo-ed, thus far (PHEW!) and let me know how I'm doing (I mean, 30 posts, in 30 days, really?!?) when you have time, of course!

      Feed me, see more!

  • Where There Is Smoke, There is Dinner

    My husband, Garth (NHRN) worked the last 2 weekends and spent Black Friday putting out one fire after another at the bank.

    By the time he got home, well, you know that saying about getting away with poking the bear once?  Nope.  They lied.  I just hope my eyebrows grow back by Christmas.

    So, on penalty of dismemberment, I asked the kids to…please, for the love of all things holiday…let their father sleep in, this morning.

    The kids insisted I wasn't telling them the truth.

    "What's wrong with him?  Is he sick?  No, really, did you even check if he's still home?"

    Because, they know he is the early-riser of their parental units (annoyingly pleasant, too) the fact that mom was up before dad, feeding the pets, making the coffee AND unloading the dishwasher…just…does…not…compute…before 7:00 a.m., even…wth?!?

    After nearly 22 years of marriage (I know, we've been together longer than some of you have been alive and unromantically symbolized by copper, btw) I can't remember the last time he slept past 9:00 a.m., either.

    Until, today.

    "Good afternoon!"

    So, of course, I spent the rest of the day reminding him how nice of me it was to allow him the 240 EXTRA MINUTES, to himself, all comfy cozy, while I put out one fire after another (in between dismembering teens and tweens, of course) and, you know, Merry Christmas early!

    Besides, we were having company for dinner tonight and, considering EVERYONE is pretty much sick of turkey, by now, we decided to tag-team the food shopping.

    Then, we put up our Christmas tree (who knew they would keep quiet long enough for me to keep my promise, DAGNABIT!) so, by the time I finished putting dinner in the oven, I was pretty much running on fumes.

    BLEEP!  BLEEP!  BLEEP!  BLEEP!  BLEEP!

    The smoke alarm went off while my 12 year-old son was playing Xbox with some of his friends.

    "Dude, is your house on fire?!?"

    [one beat, two beats]

    "Nah, that just means dinner is ready."

    It's been a loooooooooong day, my friends. 

    Tomorrow, we're off to help my parents put up their tree and only then will our holidaze be complete.

    Or, as we like to say here in Jersey, "Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-friggin-la!"

    In the meantime, if anyone needs me, I'll be upstairs, replacing the smoke alarms and trying to remember why in the hell I had children, again?!?

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

    I'm NaBloPoMo-ing it, this month (first time NaBloPoMo-er) feel free to check out what I've NaBloPoMo-ed, thus far (PHEW!) and let me know how I'm doing (I mean, 30 posts, in 30 days, really?!?) when you have time, of course!

      Feed me, see more!

  • The Money Shot

    My mother-in-law gave me simply the best compliment, yesterday.

    "Your house is always so warm and inviting."

    Seeing that it is basically held together with spit and Elmer's glue.  Seriously, having tacked up the loose wallpaper on Thanksgiving Eve, I am not even kidding.

    Stupid Hurricane Irene!

    So, besides telling me that I look way thinner, it really was the nicest thing you could say to me, at the moment.

    "I just don't have your energy, anymore."

    What do you say to that?  To a woman who, as long as I've known her and even way before then, has loved the holidays best? 

    In my head, I was thinking all of the possible responses (and this would be a real good time to thank goodness you are not in my head) like:

    • Well, I am, like what, 40 years younger than you?
    • Yes, but you should see me tomorrow morning?
    • Did I mention, you are much older than I am?

    Instead, I promised to help my mother-in-law put out some of her Christmas decorations, today.

    "But, why do I have to go?"

    Much to the dismay of my 12 year-old son.

    "It would make her happy and I said so."

    Because, I'm good with the reasoning like that.

    Black Friday at Gram's House

    Although he would never admit it (out loud) that is totally my son's, "Yeah, you were right, Mom" face.

    I texted my middle girl this photo, who stayed home to rest (stupid migraines!) and honestly, we had SUCH a great time.

    Then, on the way home, my son hollered, leaving me slightly deaf in my right ear.

    "QUICK!  Pull over, Mom!!"

    In my head, I was thinking all of the possible reasons why (yadda, yadda) finally deciding that, having just passed some major roadkill, I had indeed waited too long to feed the boy.

    Turns out, he just thought the sky was too awesome NOT to stop and take a closer look.

    Aaaaand, he was right. It really was one of the prettiest sunsets I have ever seen.

    But, this?  Being able to see his warm and happy expression, right through the shadows?  In my opinion, it is the money shot.

    And, to think, we almost missed it, if it weren't for one simple little compliment.

    Thanks, Mom!

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

    I'm NaBloPoMo-ing it, this month (first time NaBloPoMo-er) feel free to check out what I've NaBloPoMo-ed, thus far (PHEW!) and let me know how I'm doing (I mean, 30 posts, in 30 days, really?!?) when you have time, of course!

      Feed me, see more!

  • Turkey Neck for Your Thoughts

    We've hosted more than a dozen Thanksgivings (yes, on purpose!) however, this year marks a first.

    We were ALL seated and eating by 1:30 p.m.

    My in-laws aren't comfortable driving at night, anymore (we live in Jersey, I don't blame them) and I'm not comfortable with my parents driving the 45 minutes to get home (give or take an hour, which is  equal to about 45-50 miles, if you're not from Jersey) either.

    Still, in our minds, each moment we get to share, with each other, is a gift.

    So, my husband Garth (NHRN) and I decided to have dinner early, giving our parents time to sit, enjoy themselves and then get home with time enough to spend a quiet evening, with each other.

    Us, too.

    So, now that the dishes are done (mostly) the dining room broken down and the kiddie table is back in the garage, it's time to start celebrating our own private little Thanksgiving.

    I've already missed half of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas (the Jim Carrey version is our favorite and lines from the movie may or may not be quoted, throughout the year) soon to be followed by Christmas Vacation.

    So, pardon me, while I change into my pajamas and squee-gee myself into a spot on the couch.

    "Whassup with the turkey neck?"

    Of course, I couldn't pull ANY of this off without the help of my husband, Garth (NHRN) and yet, have to remind him, every year, about the turkey neck.

    "It's for my grandmother."

    It was her favorite and in my mind, 8 years after her passing, she still gets first dibs.  I know.  I'm a dork.  Still.

    "If she shows up to eat it, I'm leaving!"

    [one beat, two beats]

    "Go ahead and give it to the Doofus-Dawg!"

    I may be a tired, wigged-out, slightly sore and totally pms-ing major dork, at the moment (you're welcome) but, my Nagy Mama did NOT raise no fool.

    Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours, my friends.

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

    I'm NaBloPoMo-ing it, this month (first time NaBloPoMo-er) feel free to check out what I've NaBloPoMo-ed, thus far (PHEW!) and let me know how I'm doing (I mean, 30 posts, in 30 days, really?!?) when you have time, of course!

      Feed me, see more!

  • Nearly Wordless Wednesday:
    Williamsburg, VA 2005

    Williamsburg, VA 2005

    One of our most favorite places and yet we haven't been back since?  Perhaps I can convince Garth (NHRN) for one last road trip before the oldest goes off to college, next fall (SOB!)

    Oh, and I almost missed seeing my youngest, way over there on the right, she was so, so tiny (double-SOB!)

    © 2003 – 2011 This Full House

    I'm NaBloPoMo-ing it, this month (first time NaBloPoMo-er) feel free to check out what I've NaBloPoMo-ed, thus far (PHEW!) and let me know how I'm doing (I mean, 30 posts, in 30 days, really?!?) when you have time, of course!

      Feed me, see more!

  • Luck Be a Cup of Coffee, Tonight!

    22 days into NaBloPoMo and, well, NOW I remember why I have never NaBloPoMo-ed before.

    This blogging every day thing is hard, man (for me, anyways) however, it's been a great writing exercise (so far) especially, this time of year, when my head could always do with a good, you know, brain dump-ing.

    You're welcome!

    Aaaaaanyway, the cool thing about NaBloPoMo-ing is that there are daily prompts to help get my blogging juices going.

    Today's prompt:  What is the luckiest thing that has ever happened to you and why?

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