I just love capturing really awesome moments like this (unedited) and surprising the heck out of myself, for remembering to take off the lens cover, even, you know?
Related Post blogged at Gone Shopping: Our Kleenex Field Trip to the American Museum of Natural History with TheMotherhood.com
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
I was collating through paperwork and alphabetizing color-coded files, the other day.
Okay, so I was looking for a pen.
Fiiiiiine, I would have been happy finding a broken crayon…but, couldn't see the top of my desk from the paper jungle that mysteriously cropped up…seems like overnight, really.
Alriiiiiight, so a person could lose a small child in the stack of bills, that somehow magically migrated from the kitchen table…ummmmmm…what?
[sound of crickets]
PEN!!!…that's right…I was looking for a pen (or crayon) but, found a list of stuff and asked my youngest daughter about it, since, you know, it was in her handwriting.
"It's a list of stuff."
Now that we're clear on it being a list…of stuff…she went on to explain that it is actually a collective wish list she and her sisters penned, while I was away at BlogHer, of the qualities they wanted in their future husband and/or SigOth.
In the order listed (with notes added, where deemed necessary, or, at least, I felt, you know, compelled to do so, as their Muh-thuh) and YES! I asked them before I blogged it, for the sake of posterity, of course:
[pause for bathroom break]
It will be fun to visit this list, a few years from now and see how we they fared (or, not!) right?!?
Riiiiiiight.
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
I was born in a bay town, caressed each of my children, for the first time, in a room overlooking the banks of a river and raised them in a shore town, within viewing distance of the Hudson River.
Where the ocean touches the earth, plays hide-and-go-seek with the light and the sunshine is treasured above all else.
Not to mention, the slightly tangy sting of the fresh salty air. It's in their blood.
Their father has been coming to this same beach since he was a child. It's where we spent our first days as man and wife and introduced each of our babies to the soft, gentle waves of Cape Cod Bay.
Songs have been written for less and, sadly, moments like these are becoming far and few in between.
But, NOT this day. The shades of soft purples, dark blues and warm golds are still very fresh in our minds.
For, no matter where life takes us, (because, tomorrow comes a lot faster than you think) we will always have THIS day, as far and few in between as it IS, on OUR beach, together, for which I will be FOREVER thankful.
As I live and breath, I love you, Garth (not his real name) thank for THIS and much, much more!
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
Seems like only yesterday, we were ALL complaining about the cold, or the cataclysmic aftermath of Snowpocalpyse 2011 and our not being able to get to CVS, before running out of milk and/or coffee, am I right?!?
[sound of crickets, chirping]
Riiiiiiight!!!
Welcome to Humidaggedon 2011, my friends, where makeup and the use of combustible hair products is optional (albiet, ill-advised) because, MEH, why bother, right?
Breathing is hard enough.
In fact, it's going to be Africa-hot, for the next few days (here in Jersey, anyway) and, well, looks as if my husband, Garth (not his real name) picked a really great weekend to start his summer vacation.
The pool needs cleaning.
No, seriously, we don't have any concrete plans, the pool really does need a good cleaning and the irony of my going away, to attend BlogHer, the following week (of course roundtrip SHEESH!) is lost on no one…most especially, my kids.
"Why can't we just go with you, Moooooooooooooom?"
Speaking of concrete:
Because, I am ALL about having fun and, besides, the kids were SO BORED (how bored were they?)
"Hey, you guys, grab a couple of eggs and meet me outside!"
Hope and Glen each grabbed an egg from the fridge, without question!
[sound of crickets, spontaneously-combusting]
Okay, so our little Humidaggedon Project was a total fail. Still. Trust me when I tell you 37 seconds was about all we could stand, outside, before their sneakers fused to the sidewalk, or worrying about mommy's hair spontaneously-combusting, too.
Until, the sun goes down and the pool gets cleaned…or not…because, at this point, a little bit of green water isn't going to hurt anybody [cough, cough] and I'm just too gosh-darned hot (and tired) to argue.
Outdoor exposure should be limited, don't you know?
"Let's see who could swim to that patch of algae, the fastest, ready?!?"
Man, but these kids are going to miss me.
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
P.S.: He saw me coming and shoved his head under the pillow in a "you don't see me sort of way," too.
Freshly-Brewed Elsewhere:
Smoothing Our Way into Chillaxing Summertime Snacks
Including Craft Fairs and Art Shows Into Your Summertime Routine
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
Although, it may not be perfect, a little rough around the edges, actually and perhaps even trampled on, once, too often — on this particular day, it was lifted up, brought home, put into a special "treasures jar" and is loved, just the same.
(At least, that's what I see, when I wrote this, at 3:30 a.m., when I should be sleeping!)
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
This is me (okay, this is me, now, waiting for you to stop laughing) at 10 years-old (Post Amazonian-Growth Spurt, Stage 1) wearing my favorite pair of coolots (it's a real word, look it up) and the first time, in my life, that I can remember, where I actually felt, you know, sort of hip.
WHAT?!?!?
Crushed velvet was soooooo 1975. Only the coolest kids wore purple coolots, aaaaaand, if you've ever watched Forrest Gump, you know that smiley face paraphernalia was ALL the rage, then, too!
[sound of crickets chirping]
Fiiiiiiiine.
I was a square peg, way before being different was, you know, cool.
I'm not saying that I was better. Just different. And, raising 4 pegs of my own, I see now that it's only human nature to, you know, want to fit in.
Yet, deep down inside, I can't help but feel a certain sort of dork-ish pride, whenever one of my kids chooses to, oh, I don't know, think outside the pun.
Like, the other day, my youngest was feeling all, you know, 10-ish, so, I thought it would be best to take her on errands with me, rather than leave her with her siblings and risk losing 2 of my best sitters.
Apparently, Hope was feeling a bit Gleek-ish and, to be honest, she matched her "I'm a Nerdy Sort of Cute," t-shirt, quite well, I think.
"Are you really going to wear that?"
Still, there's a fine line between embracing the beauty of different and being all in your face with a big old used pair of 3D glasses, right?
"Why, I'm NOT afraid?"
She then pushed her makeshift nerd glasses up her nose and gave me that, "What'cha talking about, Willis" look, right up there and 2 points if you know where the heck I heard THAT saying from, too!
LESSON LEARNED: I am NOT smarter than my 5th grader and I'm okay with it.
We made several stops and, do you know, not one person gave her a second glance, not that I saw, anyway.
"Being a nerd is A LOT cooler than when you were in school, Mom!"
Then again, we live in Jersey, she's ONLY 10 and what do I know?
NOTE TO SELF: Remember to raise Holly's and Heather's allowance.
Once we start paying them one, I mean.
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
Three weeks into our summer vacation, things are going pretty smoothly and by that I mean, at the end of the day, we're all feeling a bit tired (in a good way) not to mention, sun-kissed and slightly pool-drunk from one too many belly flops.
Of course, I meant to do that and yes…IT HURTS…like a son of monkey's uncle, riding on my back, along with the rest of his family and a couple of his monkey-like friends, while singing, "It's hard out here for a chimp, like me," too.
[sound of crickets, chirping]
Sorry, clearly I'm finding it increasingly challenging, as the social director, here at Camp This Full House, year after year and, well, now that my kids are older?
"So-and-So invited me to the pool club…What's-Her-Name invited me to lunch…I got a job interview, this afternoon…"
It's really not so bad.
"Aaaaand I'm taking the car!"
Really, it's not.
"Wait, what about me?"
Unless, you happen to be the youngest camper.
"Well, you can have a friend over."
Aaaaand, all of your friends happen to be out or having fun, you know, someplace else.
[heavy sigh]
"Sorry, give me a few minutes and we'll do something, together, okay?"
Honestly, the poor kid's heard me say it enough times, I'm actually thinking about putting it on a t-shirt.
"That's what you ALWAYS say."
See what I mean?
"Hey mom, LOOK!"
Long story, short (I know, too late, still) I looked up to see this coming right at me, a few minutes later:
LESSON LEARNED: NO…I don't have very good balance…okay, NEVER have…YES…it would be nice to be able to multi-task, with such grace and cuteness, like that…and NO…I don't know where the heck she gets it from, either, DAGNABIT!!!
Now, if you'll excuse me, the pool is calling and then Triple-Tasking Girl and I are going out for an iced mocha…after Holly gets home with the car, first…of course!
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
Over the years, I've learned to expect less than favorable opinions, from other people, upon learning that I have 4 kids.
Then, when other people find out I have 3 daughters, who ALL share the same bedroom, the shock sets in and, well, yes, it is just as complicated and delicate of a situation as anyone can imagine.
All I can say is, thank goodness we have a REALLY BIG backyard and, when hormone levels begin to rise and, add in the closeness of summertime, threaten to reach epic proportions (like, yesterday) I can toss them ALL in the swimming pool and, hopefully, avert a nuclear meltdown.
Mine, too!
Being a girl is really, really hard. I know. My daughters sometimes forget, I used to be one. Once. A long time ago.
However, I wasn't allowed to play organized sports, even though I was really good at soccer and could pretty much run circles around the boys, when playing "for fun" at the Hungarian Club.
With my sincerest apologies, in advance, to Mia Hamm's mother, it was a boy's sport and both my parents worked during the day AND cleaned office buildings, together, in the evenings, during most sporting practices, anyway.
It wasn't in their nature to, you know, ask for help.
Besides, they had me to help cook, clean and were grooming their daughter to be perhaps the best that they could have expected, at the time, given their upbringing.
Frankly, there are worse things (trust me, I've heard their stories) and my parents have since admitted, as their daughter, I've far surpassed any and all of their expectations (mine, too!)
They ARE terrific grandparents and have been there, for my kids, sharing in nearly every milestone and a few unexpected surprises, as well.
Funny backstory: after a long day of furniture shopping and helping my parents plan their move, we stopped for lunch and my father actually cheered, out loud, when my oldest got her period at McDonalds.
While, 30 years earlier, I got in trouble, BIG TIME, for leaving a pack of Kotex on the bathroom sink.
Still, I try and make it a point to thank them, whenever I can, for helping to make me the person, who I am…right now.
I am…the mother of 3 very spirited daughters, who are confident and, although they don't like each other, very much, sometimes (okay, a lot) there's unconditional love, in there, somewhere, albeit wet and perhaps even a little sticky.
Oh, and I also have a son, who likes to cook, bake and knows how to separate his laundry (okay, so my mother taught him) and…YES…I expect him to make someone a REAL good wife, most likely, some day.
Just, not my daughters.
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
Okay, so I don't usually write about marketing to mom sort of stuff here on this blog anymore (but, I do on this one!)
Because, this is where I like to think out loud with very little thought given to word count or social media metrics.
Still, as a freelance writer and blogging professional (AM SO!) I do receive a lot of pitches (some good, mostly bad) and probably read twice as many posts and articles, every month, about some blogger being wronged, in some way, by yet another company who, you know, just doesn't get it.
I read bad pr pitch stories like this and can't help but pine for the days when moms (like me) would write (for writing's sake) and were THRILLED just to have made it on each other's blogrolls.
Blogging is hard. Blogging while under the influence of children is damned near impossible, without a strong network of online (not to mention, unplugged) family and friends, I mean.
On the other hand, I've personally worked with some very amazing people, collaborated on equally awesome projects and forged many new fantastic friendships along the way.
Still. Contrary to what others may think (or, feel) I don't think I'm special. Nor, do I expect preferential treatment, or, expect stuff to be given to me.
In other words, I am NOT famous. But, my dog is:
Subject: Doofus-Dog, Would you like to help feed the hounds?
Date: Fri, June 17, 2011 11:28 am
To: lizthisfullhouse@gmail.comDearest Doofus-Dawg:
You are a brainy thing, aren't you? And we adore your absolute candor as you share your thoughts at This Full House.
And so, dear DD, we'd like to see if you want to try our food.
We are XXXXXXXX and have real food for really smart dogs like you.Ask Liz, though.
Not that she's your boss (no way!) but she might have an opinion or two.
But if she says "Yes," we'll send over our new food (called XXXXXX) for you to try.
Want to?
Aaaaaand, my absolutely most favorite closing in the whole wide Interwebs…EVUH:
With Dirty Socks, Kitty Poop and All Other Things You Shouldn't Be Eating,
XXXXXXX
Maybe I should be insulted. Perhaps even feel a little annoyed (at best) but, I'll be boiled in my own lip gloss if I'm not absolutely giddy telling you that my dog gets better pitches than I do!
Because, I'm funny like that.
© 2003 – 2011 This Full House