This Full House Archive

Tag: teens driving

  • Parenting Tip #45,371,381: Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff – Shove a Slushy Snowball Down Someone’s Shirt, Instead!

    My husband, Garth (not his real name) is really good at not panicking, especially dealing with an emergency situation; when, considering I took to Twitter when my middle girl's butt exploded, clearly I am not.

    On the other hand, I have made it my life's mission to NOT sweat the small stuff AND have consistently failed said mission (it was more like a guideline, anyway, really) for the last…ummmm, let's see…how old IS my oldest kid, again?!?

    Aaaaanyway, point being (and I really do have one, promise) Garth (not his real name) and I have taken to handling this whole…parenting teens is hard, YO!…by tag-teaming each other, sort of like professional wrestlers would…during a no holds barred steel cage death match.

    Blindfolded, with one arm tied behind our backs and buck-naked.

    Like, the other night, when my youngest asked for help with an essay and then kept insisting on either disagreeing with or fighting me on ANY and ALL help that was being offered.

    My husband walked in through the front door just in time to hear me holler, "Then, why BOTHER asking ME for help?!?"

    [ding-ding-ding]

    He rolled up his sleeves, loosened his tie and pushed me…every so gently, yet firmly…you know…out of the way.

    "I got this!" 

    Or, whenever Contradictory Boy shows up (a.k.a. our 14 year-old son's alter ego) and clashes with the gravitational forces on my husband's forehead, causing a massive facial implosion and one gosh-darned scary-looking unibrow.

    [ding-ding-ding]

    "Sooooooo, how DOES one go about creating a character in World of Warcraft?"

    We ARE the King and Queen of Distraction (a.k.a. SziSzi of Pandaria) and, well, whatever works, right?!? 

    Saturn Sucks

    So, this is happening (RIGHT NOW!) and, well, the groundhog lied…the little jerk!

    Long story, short (you're welcome!) I've been driving our oldest to and from work (she's saving for a car, we live in Jersey, enough said!) sometimes even on the days when I don't need to use the car (see last parenthesis) unless it snows.

    "You don't want to transfer your fear onto her, do you?"

    Now that we have a kid driving (and ANOTHER one driving, this spring) the panic that sets in goes way beyond the fact that I don't do snow and, well, Eastern-European-types aren't very good at keeping a straight face; we pretty much suck at poker, too.

    "Noooooo, but don't expect me to stop worrying…DAMMIT…and ANOTHER thing…"

    [ding-ding-ding]

    Aaaaand, that's when he shoved a slushy snowball down the front of my pajamas.

    "WTF, dude?!?!?!?!?"

    Although, it worked long enough for me to stand there and forget just what in the heck we were talking about, I am STILL a little confused by his tactics.

    © 2003 – 2013 This Full House

  • Taking a Backseat

    Traveling with younger kids is hard, trust me, I know.  Our minivan has plenty of battle scars — not to mention, unidentifiable stains, which will stay that way, because, seriously, I don't even WANT to know!

    I am STILL finding petrified food, circa 2006.  

    My husband, Garth (not his real name) refers to the minivan as the S.S. Movable Feast, ever since the ant infestation…that ONE time…and who knew ants have a very keen sense for fishy crackers, right?!?

    [sound of crickets, chirping]

    I have clocked in a lot of miles, driving kids to and from…well…everywhere and spent countless number of hours…sitting in traffic…or fighting my way through parking lots, sometimes ALL in the same day.

    I grew accustomed to it, pretty quickly, and often times would steal a brief glimpse of my kids in the rear view mirror, staring at the back of my head or slumped in their car seats, fast asleep.  

    I also became quite adept at back-handing them their juice boxes (fishy crackers, not so much) while we discussed real meaning of life sort of stuff.

    Like, what happens when you hold your nose, fart and sneeze at the same time?  Would your brain ooze out of your ears or your eyes bleed boogers?

    The answer, by the way, is:  not yet.

    My kids grew up in our minivan (me too!) and, now that my oldest is driving and with the middle girl applying for her learner's permit this spring (HOLD ME!), I am slowly beginning to get used to the idea of not having to drive…especially, if I really don't want to…sort of.

    View from the backseat

    Today, I feel it safe to say:  traveling with grown kids is even harder, because this is what happens when your 14 year-old reaches 6 feet on the measuring wall.

    Guess I should start getting used to this view, eh?

    © 2003 – 2013 This Full House