This Full House

Thursdays Thirteen - is the new Fourteen Random Things - at our house, anyways.

Jinkies, I've been tagged by Dana and I've been jonesing to join in on Believer's pet peeves - not to mention, I'll do anything to avoid thinking about gut rot, or looking at this - so, here ya' go! Seven pet peeves I've discovered, since last Thursday:

1.  The phrase, "It is, what it is." - To which I answer, "Yes, but it can ALWAYS be better...damnit!"

2.  Rude customer service people - Look, I've serviced plenty of customers in my time...for more years than I'd care to remember, really...I know what you're thinking...trust me...but, would it kill you to at least ACT like you care...and that your job actually depended on the fact that I am NOT happy...oh, and for the love of Garth...would you please, STOP popping your gum, already!

3.  Hotel key cards that don't work - Because I am clumsy, a dork AND technically challenged; 'nuf said!

4.  Drivers who refuse to use their directionals - Yes, you've got one and should NOT be afraid to use it, or face the wrath of my evil eye and I AM part Gypsy, you know!

5.  Disgusting displays of road rage - Showing me your middle finger will NOT make me inclined to go any faster and if you insist on driving that far up my butt, at least have the courtesy of allowing me to pull over and introduce ourselves, properly!

6.  People who stare - Say hello, or show me the booger, already!

7.  People who refuse to be the first ones to say, you know, hello - Begging your pardon, your majesty, but...um...our kids have been terrorizing each other for years and I know where you live; you ain't all that!

7 random things I really don't hate:

1.  I don't really hate doing the laundry - With my new washer and dryer I was able to get through seven loads, yesterday; it's the folding and the putting away that can take days.  Makes for nice extra seating space, though.

2.  I don't really hate being a mom - I just don't love it...every...flipping...minute...of...my...life, is all.

3.  I don't really hate my breasts, or Facebook - I just don't like how I feel about them, at the moment.

4.  I don't really hate bugs - I despise them!

5.  I don't really hate it when my husband and I argue - As long as there's lots of kissing and heavily making up, after.

6.  I don't really hate to hear my kids complain - It means that they are exercising their right to speak their minds and that I am still listening.

7.  I don't really hate my dog - Not today, anyway.

Anyone up for the challenge, feel free to clean off a chair, sit down and tell me what irks you (or, not) the most about this week. Next week:  I'll be coming late into an Autumn Swap, jumping back into girl scouts, sweating it out in soccer, basking in my imperfections, making some more travel arrangements and getting over gut rot! I hope.

Wordless Wednesday - Got Milk of Magnesia?

How's the weather up there in Joisey, you ask - why, it's Africa hot - can't ya' tell!?!?

[hosted by:  5 Minutes for Mom]

Boob sweat in September...now, that's just NOT right!  If anyone needs me, I'll be upstairs desperately clutching the air-conditioner and wondering just where in the h-e-double hockey sticks is Autumn!?!? [Just so you know, gut rot is when your insides feel like they just puked all over themselves] TTFN

Forgive her, Lord for she is from the North and prays only for some sleep.

I have a confession to make - hang on to your hoodies, it's not like that - but, I hesitate to mention my love for hotel rooms, because...well...does anyone else get a kick out of being able to sleep in a gorgeously made up bed (read: crispy white linens and matching pillows) and then come back at the end of the day to find your room cleaned, picked up and your bed ready for some major snuggling!?!?

Me, too and - if it weren't for a minor snafu - judging by the inaugural go-ahead-and-hop-your-butt-up-on-there test and the overall fluff-factor, I suspect spending an entire night sleeping in it would have been real nice, too! Although, my husband seems to feel that my waking him in the middle of the night, screaming in pain, and then having to rush me to the local hospital (read:  where the hell are we anyway...and...I don't care...WHAT is the easiest to get to!?!?) as more that just, you know, a snafu.

"The virus is attacking her internal organs and working it's way through her intestines, so the pain should get better, before it gets any worse."

Swell.

"Rest assured, her gallbladder is fine, both kidneys are functioning normally and we're about 99% sure it has NOT infected her appendix, but we'd like her stay the night."

How nice, they must really like me.

"Where ya'll planning on doin'?"

Well, we were on our way home and - though, I haven't been feeling well and not eating much the whole trip - I just had to stop in Old Town and have dinner, because...well, stupid is as stupid does.

"Look, I do love it here and all...everyone is really nice...but, please don't take this the wrong way...I just want to get home to my babies and sleep in my own bed, tonight!"

A couple of bags of saline, a muscle relaxer, a shower, a few more prescriptions for good measure and nearly 24 hours, later we are home and we are BOTH doing well - my husband doesn't like it much that I'm sick and still blogging, either - but, don't worry, I hear my bed calling and Garth (not his real name) is taking real good care of me and the kids.

He's good, like that!

In the meantime - please, feel free to clean off a chair, sit down and talk amongst yourselves - if anyone needs me, I'll be upstairs, thanking my lucky stars, clutching my mid-section and praying for some sleep!

Forgive her, Lord for she is from the North and knows not what to do with her hands!

It's day 3 of Garth's (not his real name) and my adventure into the deep south (okay, as far as I've ever been able to git) and  I'm happy to report that we HAVE managed to work AND travel together (without the kids) AND talk about, you know, all sorts of stuff. Other than the kids, I mean. . In fact, my husband says I'm ALL talk and don't be fooled into thinking that we do NOT miss our children - I've called them before school, after and at bedtime...everyday - but, we've been at this parenting thing for quite a while (more years than we can remember, really...the memory IS the first to go) and leaving the children doesn't affect Garth (not his real name) as much as being able to talk to other grown-ups, does me.

"Ya'll here on bin-ness?"

Yes, I mean no.

"Actually, my husband is and I'm sort of...well...yes and..."

I stopped talking, first (for once) before realizing that I had inadvertently placed my hand on her shoulder and then started stroking the woman's arm.

"...um...I'm here researching the area and sort of trying to get a feel for the place."

I also told her that we live in New Jersey, that my parents are from Eastern Europe and how I really do NOT know what to do with my hands!

"I'm originally fruuuuuum Jersey, too!"

So, I'm NOT the only one susceptible to picking up speech patterns, huh!?!?

"How long you here?"

[smiles broadly]

"Oh, quite a few yuhs now!"

Okay, I'm just quicker at it - thinking, not so much.

"What do ya'll do?"

[blank stare]

"Well, I'm a full-time mom and I write part-time about, you know, stuff."

Uh-huuuuuuuh.

"Not like, there's any such thing as a part-time mom, or anything."

Riiiiiiight.

"Oh, here's Helene NOW!"

One of the other things I wanted to do - besides, try to listen to what Garth (not his real name) says and NOT totally freak out the English-speaking population of North Carolina - was look up my long-time blogging friend over at Adventures in Parenting.

"Relax, just be yourself."

Easy enough for Garth (not his real name) to say!

"Hi, it's me!"

I smiled, waved my hands wildly and promptly placed them at my sides...so, as to not freak out another mommyblogger.

"I'm sorry, but I can't believe you're here and I have this terrible need to hug you!"

But, you can't blame us for being absolutely thrilled to finally meet each other, IN PERSON!

"I've been following you and your family...for...YEARS!"

I introduced Garth (not his real name) to Helene (go over and see our pretty picture) and later thanked him for being such a good sport about...well...EVERYTHING!

"That's okay, it's hard NOT to be friendly around you, even though you ARE nothing but a bunch of blogging freaks!"

Maybe so, maybe so...BUT...hey, Helene knows more about me than anybody and she's originally from Wisconsin!

Forgive her Lord, for she is from the North and knows not the menu!

Well, we've made it - the better part of two days drive and 640 miles, later - and I do believe that I am absolutely in lust with nearly everyone I have met here in North Carolina, thus far.

"Hyalldointday?"

What?

"Kinygit...ya'll?"

Here's the thing - I'm not trying to be fresh, or anything - growing up with Hungarian parents, in an extremely ethnic neighborhood and surrounded by more cultures than a pediatrician can wave a stick at, especially during cold and flu season - yes, even she's from...you know...somewhere else - the kids and I have grown accustomed to hearing, and have no problem understanding, people who, you know, talk funny.

"Um...hi...uh...um...your earrings are very pretty!"

Can I just tell you, the woman never even batted an eyelash...but, she did start talking a whole heck of a lot slower, all of a sudden!

"Well, aren't yooooooou jest theeeeeee niiiiiiicest, most sweeeeeeest, liiiiiitle thaaaaaaang!"

And then she pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Waaaaaaar ya'll fruuuuuuum?"

I told her that my husband, Garth (not his real name) and I were visiting from Jersey.

"Aaaaaaaand, he left ya'll to diiiiiiine byer-self?"

Yes...I mean...no...not really.

"Well, he's travelin' on bin-ness."

I mean, business.

"And I'm sorta, yah-know, workin' from our hotel rooooooom?"

It's about now when I realized that my speech pattern seemed to be changing and that my tongue had taken on a life of it's own.

"Aaaaaaand, this is the fust tiiiiiiime I've had to muh-self...without the keeeeeeeds...in a dawg's age!"

She gave be this sort of...uhhhhhhh-huh...sort of nod, but never stopped smiling.

"Where'd ya'll saaaaaaay, ya'll fruuuuuuum?"

[without missing a beat]

"Suh-thun New Jersey!"

Oh my doG, but we laughed and laughed. [wiping eyes]

"Kinygit...ya'll?"

Blank stare. "Uhhhhhhh-huh...and um...I looooooove your glasses, too!" It's okay, she finally figured out that I was feeling pretty uncomfortable - apparently, a lot of Southerners have a hard time understanding us, too - and my new best friend, Pauleen (or, Pow-leen) was kind enough to order, for me:

• fried catfish
• dumplings in (white) gravy
• corn
• turnip greens
• fried apples
• homemade raspberry iced tea

Oh...my...LORD...but, I do believe they've turned my Yankee heart...um...do ya'll don't have a baseball team, or anything? Riiiiiiight. Anyhow, while Garth is busy networking his buns off, I'm meeting up with the locals and looking forward to getting to know all there is to know about...um...ya'll - if anyone needs me, I'll be in downtown Charlotte...shopping...and crushing on some street vendor...HARD...no doubt!

She's sort of nice from Monday thru Friday...then, on Saturday, out comes the beast!

If you where to ask me - hey, you! - what my favorite day of the week happens to be, I would have to answer...um...what day is it, today and...uh...any day I can get out of bed...without my head hurting and my eyes bleeding puss...or, tripping over a 90 pound dog in an attempt to avoid the cat poop (don't ask) and the kids are NOT sick...well, heck-fart and happy birthday...today just HAS got to be a good one, right!?!?

I mean, Thing Two's fever finally did BREAK - after peaking at a balmy 105.2 degrees fahrenheit - but, NOT before enduring copious amounts of warm showers, cool presses and steaming hot mugs of mommy's homemade chicken soup, served up on a bed of crisp clean sheets and surrounded by her favorite stuffed animals.

Thank you for your kind thoughts!

Unfortunately, it DID take the entire four-day-weekend (happy belated Rosh Hashanah, y'all) in between running back (and forth) to school for soccer pictures (in the rain) and playing two soccer games (in the wet) at two different times, of course!

Which means?

[stops typing and does the math]

Running back (and forth) with Mini-me and The Boy (who requested a new pseudo-name and now formerly known as, Little Man) a total of five times and losing NOT just a soccer game...nuh-uh!...but, my keys...yuh-huh!...and my abilities of speech and hearing...whuh?...not to mention, my shiny new outlook and believing that, you know, I ACTUALLY know what I'm doing.

"Grab it...GRab it...GRAb it...GRAB it...GO AHEAD AND GRAB IT, ALREADY!"

The Boy was playing goalie - YIKES! - and he leaped on the ball, as if it was the last piece of coffee cake on a Sunday morning, just like I taught him to!

"Um...he can't come out of the box and...uh...just so you know...that's not YOUR Son!"

[blank stare]

"Well, heck-fart and happy birthday, we just got ourselves a throw in...go red!"

Stupid soccer! Then Sunday came, Thing Two was feeling much better and no one else got sick...[knock on wood]...and we were able to keep our plans of visiting with family, but Thing One was feeling out of sorts (she's not very fond of Aunt Flo, either!) and I got to do it...all...over...again!

"Here's your cup of tea, Sweetie...it's Vanilla Chai...your favorite, right...and a nice, big piece of banana bread!"

Because I am "the mommy" and it happens to be what we mommies (and daddies) do best!

[breaks into a big grin]

I bet you wanna know how I'm feeling all bouncy, right?

[quivers eyebrows and smiles]

Why, it's Monday...of course...and I don't think that there could possibly be another mother (or, father) happier, right now (besides Jamie, I mean)  simply because, well...um...there are NO children home...sick...at the moment and NO soccer games scheduled for next weekend and...uh...wait...what was the question?

But, guess what?

No, I'm NOT pregnant...[knocking on wood until knuckles bleed]...but, the hubs and I are going away (I know...what, again?!?) and this time it's strictly business.  Garth (not his real name) has some bank-like thing he has to go to and wants me to go...um...too. However, I'm not actually allowed attend the bank-like thing (that's okay, there's internet and a Panera's nearby...HEE-HAW!) and I've already planned on working in a scouting expedition of Charlotte, North Carolina. Thanks, to Grandma, Grandpa and the world's best Aunt...EVUH!...oh, and there are at at least two other people I'd like to mention, before I go.

Believer in Balance and I were roommates at BlogHer and she still thinks I'm nice - can you believe it?

"This award is for those bloggers who are nice people; good blog friends and those who inspire good feelings and inspiration.  Also for those who are a positive influence on our blogging world. "

Absolutely Bananas and I met at BlogHer and gave me a blogging award, anyway - for being a beast?

The THIS BLOG KICKS DONKEY BUTT award - for blogs that rock your world. Hard.

Now, I have GOT to tie up a few more loose ends (like, making sure there are enough clean towels and that there's food in the house) and then it's off to the balmy beaches of North Carolina...um...I mean...I think, it's hot there...and they have sand, right...um...what was the question?

Why, yes we're driving the entire 10+ hours and Aunt Flo WILL BE traveling with us...of course!

Wordless Wednesday - The Trouble With Weeds...

...is that they are endlessly, interesting.

[breathes in deep]

Feeling a little sad, today - don't worry, just some after-effects of battling a procrastinating teenager, a frustrated eleven-year-old, an eight-year-old boy who refuses to brush his teeth and totally pissing off a six-year-old by making her change her clothes, twice, and nursing a wicked migraine - if anyone needs me, I'll be in my garden...digging in the dirt.

[hosted by:  5 Minutes for Mom]

September 11, 2001 - The Names

I'm guest-blogging for my dear friend, Dana - join me at The Dana Files in remembering September 11, 2001 - The Names.

It takes a tough woman to render men, chicken - The Final Episode

[Part I...Part II...the story continues]

One of the reasons my husband says he married me - besides the fact that my father probably begged him to, no doubt - is that I make him laugh, no...matter...what...and - after 18 years and raising four kids, together - there HAVE been plenty of whats between us.

"WHAT - the hell do you mean, you're pregnant - AGAIN!?!?"

Trust me!

"Well, at least we're happy and our kids won't be fighting over our money!"

Of course, I'm kidding - sort of.

"Oh...my...doG...you're WHAT!?!?"

When I told Garth (not his real name) that we were pregnant with Thing One, he actually threw his hands up, placed them on his head head, started pulling at his hair (when he had some to, you know, grab) threw himself down on the bed and just lied there, for a few minutes, petrified beyond words.

"Um...did I mention that I am actually going to be the one, you know, giving birth?"

See, one of reasons I married my husband - besides the fact that my father would probably pay him too, anyway - is that he is the ying to my yang. [snicker] All joking aside, Garth (not his real name) makes me stop...and think...even...when...I...don't...want...to.

"Are we really ready, for THIS!"

Oh, stop it.

"We'll have to start thinking about buying a house, saving for college and...oh, my doG...what if we decide to have more kids!?!?"

No, really...STOP!

"Let's just have this one, first, before we start wigging-out...m'kay!"

We did, times 4, and then, before I knew it, the time had come.

"Aaaaand...what time does the middle school get out?"

When it comes to someone - especially, a boy in high school - showing that much attention, in my 13-year-old daughter, I am scared stupid!

"Well, just in time for ME to pick her up and I am her mother, by the way."

Something in my head was like...oh, SNAP...and I wanted to yank the living hell out of his ying-yang! [nods head and swipes debit card]

"Well, then do you believe in Freshman Fridays?"

[nods head and enters pin]

"Oh, absolutely NOT and anyone who does...well, they should be tarred and feathered...that's WHAT!"

[eyes go wide]

"Um...thank you."

I turned toward my 13-year-old daughter - who was still in shock, and deeply engrossed in a one-sided conversation, if I hadn't intervened - grabbed her hand and smiled triumphantly.

"Have a nice day!"

Later.

"What was all THAT about?"

Ah, she speaks!

"What?"

Okay...I knew, what...it's just that, after all these years of pretending like I did NOT care...I got nothing...and was merely trying to buy myself some more time...and think of...you know...something.

"WOW...I never had a guy, you know, give me that kind of attention."

Yes, I know...damnit.

"Thank goodness you were there, Mom!"

Okay...um...WHAT?

"I'm so used to people thinking of me as, you know, the quiet one, who sits in the back...and you don't know how it feels to finally have someone notice me."

Actually, I do and it SUCKS! What I did tell her is that no amount of makeup - no matter how heavy an eyeliner, or dark the lipstick - would ever disguise the fact that she was still too young to deal with that kind of attention.  And her father and I will probably continue to make decisions - not to mention, more than a few mistakes - that will probably piss her off, no doubt.  But, we would love her, anyway.  Just as anyone, should. With, or without the use of cosmetics.

"What's Freshman Fridays?"

Wait, I wasn't finished...because, I still want to tell her about the fishnet stockings and mesh fingerless gloves...that her best friend was wearing the other day...that I was really worried about...ah, but never mind...I think...I will think on it, some more.

"Um...I have NO idea."

Thing One just shook her head and smiled.

"I'm just used to being, you know, your mother and we can always google it later."

It's okay, she knows.

"Don't worry - I get it, Mom - it's just that I'm not used to the attention and I guess maybe I'm not so ready to date guys, either."

Neither am I, kid - especially, that you ran straight for the phone to tell your bff.

"Guess what just happened...TO ME?!?"

And your father's not too happy, either!

"That's it, no dating for you until you're 21!"

Nope...and it is NOT going to get any easier, either...just go with it, dear. But, at least we're talking - my sincerest thanks to the teenage delinquent, behind the counter - forgive me, but I still wonder if there will be a time when we WILL be ready...ever. Just so you know:

Freshman Friday - In many high schools, Fridays are celebrated by putting freshman in garbage cans, or stuffing them into lockers.  It's amazing how creative the upperclassman can get, really. via:  Urban Dictionary

Then....I still stand by what I said, you bunch of delinquents!

It takes a tough woman to render men, chicken - Part II

[...Part I, and the story continues] Seriously, I thought I was going to puke - and my husband looked much worse, by the way - but, I continued to tell Garth (not his real name) about the teenage delinquent (because you're right, no one is good enough) and how he had the nerve to hit on my 13-year-old daughter, our baby girl, right in front of me, her mother...HELLO...I'm standing right next to her...you stupid teenage boy...and with a hicky on his neck THIS BIG!

"Hiya doin'?"

Poor Thing One, she jumped and nearly spit her gum out onto the counter.

"Haven't I seen you someplace?"

Oh my heavenly, doG, he has GOT to be kidding me! [shrugs shoulders] That's right, baby - pretend like you don't care - it should never be that easy, EVUH! . [rings up notebooks]

"So, gettin' ready for school?"

No, DUH - I'm sorry, but can I just tell you?  You don't know how difficult it was for me NOT to say that out loud!  My face, on the other hand. [rolls eyes] I was like, oh how cute (this was before I noticed the hicky, of course) but, you're going to have to do a LOT better than that, if you want to be impressing my baby girl.  I taught her better than that, boy-oh!

"Well...um...[gag]...yah!"

See? [nods head]

"Freshman?"

Okay, now hold on. [cracks knuckles and strikes defensive pose] You're right - she's still too young to be having this type of conversation - but,not five minutes ago, we had a very heated discussion about why I thought the eyeliner and dark lipstick she was wearing was fine for dress ups. [the sound of crickets chirping] . Yes, Thing One and Thing Two (she's 11) still like to pretend - only now it's with mommy's make up, skirts, high heels and, you know, stuff I just don't seem to get to wear much, anymore - and it was all I could do, to keep from pulling over to the side of the road, tear into the box of tissues and wipe about 3 years off her face!

"I don't get it...Moooooom...why does it matter what I wear and what do ya' mean in school, it's different...I thought you liked us to be, you know, NOT like everyone else!?!"

OUCH!...did you see that?...I think some sort of rabid parenting advice just bit me in the butt!!

"Yes, but...I mean...NO...uh...here's the thing...I just want you to be aware, that...you know...people are going to notice you."

I mean, Thing One has always been my quiet little thinker - you know, content with staying home and writing poems, or poking her nose in a book and discussing world peace with her mother - and never would have I considered her attracting anyone's attention...especially, in school...to be so important, all of a sudden, I don't know. I guess, I just wasn't ready.

"Uh, no...8th GRADE!"

Later, I was annoyed that the boy didn't seem bothered, or even cared to acknowledge the fact that I just may be the chicks MUH-THUH, and looked right passed me, but thought that the teenage delinquent DID look a little scared and it may have been my answering his question, through tightly clenched teeth. [rings up mousse] And I was having a really bad hair day, too! [looks over cash register and smiles brightly]

"Aaaaand...what time does the middle school get out?"

...to be continued