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June 2012

May 2012

I'm Not Needy, I'm Just Giving Others the Chance to Be Helpful!

Softball Mom's View
She wears bright colors to help her mother find her on the field.

I'm not very good at asking for help.  What, you too?!?  I know, me too!!!  Is there anything I can do to help?!?  Anyone I should call?!?  I know people.

Aaaaaanyway, my SIL was over the other day.  I'm not sure which one, exactly.  I mean, I knew which SIL (she was in my wedding and everything) exactly which day it was, not so much. 

They all sort of blend into a muted shade of "What the hell day is it, anyway?"

Aaaaaand, we just came off a long weekend, which means I swore Tuesday...was really least half a dozen times before my second cup of coffee, even.

Ummmmmm, what was I saying?

[glances at wall calendar]

OH YEAH!!!  Sooooo, my SIL asks me about my youngest daughter's next softball game and I'm all, like, she plays softball?!?

Heh, just kidding.  I like messing with people.  Which makes me calculatingly indecisive...albeit, equally annoying...and I really didn't know when her next softball game was...lack of surprise, notwithstanding.

"It's on Wednesday, Aunt Pat."

Thankfully, as the youngest of four, Hope is used to my NOT knowing this sort of stuff (off the top of my head, anyways) which is why I make sure to leave several pencils (with erasers intact) by our wall calendar and at least all of us can pretty Hope's writing, without much trouble.

"Isn't my dentist appointment on Wednesday?"

Seems my son has been keeping tabs on his schedule, as well, the little traitor.

"Sooooo, we'll be a little late to the game."

I can't be the ONLY one realizing that their car is running on empty (AGAIN!) a little too late, right?!?  RIGHT?!?


"I can take Hope to her game."

So, for the first time in, like, never, I took my SIL up on her offer to help with a solid, "Maybe, I'll let you know, okay?" and, well, it's nice to know someone has my back.

I mean, other than my husband Garth (poor guy, I knew him well or at least four times anyway) nah'mean.

"Do you need me to pick up Hope for softball, today?"

My SIL just texted me a few minutes ago and, well, seeing as these last weeks of school are about to get a little crazier (more than usual, I mean) I really do appreciate her continued confidence in my knowing whether or not Hope has a softball game...let alone, remembering what the hell day it is...I truly do treasure my SIL.

"Oh, no, thanks, that was yesterday."

Suprisingly, I made it home from the dentist's office AND was able to get Hope to the game in time to notice that there were two different t-shirt colors on the playing field and one of them know...NOT hers.


"Besides, Garth (not his real name) already promised to take her tonight."

Because, I'm helpful like that.

© 2003 - 2012 This Full House

Freshly-brewed elsewhere:  Partnering with International Delight in sharing a chance to win $1,000 for a kitchen makeover...DUDE!!!!...I would SO ENTER if I could ;)

Last Week, Before the Last Week, Of the Last Week of School

Birthday Cake
Another typical Memorial Day weekend at our house, with more birthday cake!

We opened our pool yesterday and by we I mean Garth (not his real name) did almost ALL the heavy lifting, bending, or basically anything requiring any sort of physical effort, the ability to use BOTH hands (at the same time) or a superior range of motion, while I ran (by ran I mean limp, with style) and got him stuff he asked for, from the shed, or the garage (either of which, turns out, would prove to be a scavenger hunt) in an effort to make me know...useful.

It's the last week, before the last week, of the last week of school and, well, my kids have already checked of last, too.

This year, however, is a little different.

My oldest is...[cough]...excuse me, but my first born baby girl...[clears throat]...I cannot wrap my head around the fact that...[swallows HUGE lump in throat]...UGH! 

You see?  I can't even admit I have a daughter old enough to graduate high school...[clears throat]...without manufacturing mucous the size of a grapefruit (you're welcome!) so, it stands to reason, I should not be allowed to speak, let alone trusted with doing know...useful.

Like, actually start planning stuff for Holly's high school graduation party and Hope's 11th birthday which happen to fall on the same day (GAH!) instead, I beat my head against the wall and try to figure out how I am going to pull it ALL off?

"Don't make yourself crazy, Mom!"

I know, too late, still, my youngest is also graduating 5th grade this year...[cue mucous]...and, well, after 13 years of complaining about the parking and stuff, now what am I gonna do?!?



BRILLIANT!!! I mean, it's not like we haven't done it before (see:  The Seven Years of Mommyblogging and Happy Everything) and gosh but I love my kids!!!

"Why are you wearing your brother's boxers?"

So, I'm going over my "Ignore this stuff any longer and you will live to regret it, if you haven't already, trust me on this one!" list when my youngest stumbled into the kitchen this morning and, well, I really should know better to ask, but am not in my right mind...remember?

"Beeeeeecause, they don't fit him anymore?!?"

Guess what just made the top of the list?  Go ahead, I'll wait!

© 2003 - 2012 This Full House

The Sad World of the Misunderstood Euphemism, and Zombies

Misunderstood-spider-meme-squish-wifeMy 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 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
  • 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, 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 mind.

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

You are safe here, my friends, stupid euphemisms.

 © 2003 - 2012 This Full House

{nearly} Wordless Wednesday: Iris in the Morning

Iris in the Morning
No edits, no filters, no iPhone, it's all Iris.

ALTERNATE BLOG POST TITLE:  Reason why I rushed out the front door early this morning and nearly beaned myself into unconsciousness (pro tip: check to make sure the storm door is actually unlocked!) I wanted to get this shot before the raindrops evaporated -- I blame all you more-expert-like photographers out there AND!

© 2003 - 2012 This Full House

Freshly-Brewed Elsewhere:  I am very honored to be working with Hallmark as a Life is a Special Occasion featured blogger, which allows me the opportunity to share personal stories, insights and inspirations in enjoying simple every day moments.  This month,  I'm sharing my celebrity crush(es) and how my LOVE for vampires runs deep.

Parenting Tip #8,913,256: Bogus Text Scammers Suck - We should throw old cell phones at them!

Rainy Days and Mondays Get Me on Instagram
Loved the effect rain is leaving on windshield, so I posted it to (like a good blogger!)

I was waiting in the pick up lane for my youngest, when my cell phone doink-doink-ed (it's my tone, don't judge!) while I was in the middle of trying to upload a picture to

What?!?  It was raining and, well, I get REAL bored waiting sometimes.

 It was a text message from my 16yo and I figured she wanted to either take a ride with me to drop off my oldest girl at work (who hates it when she has to drive in the rain, me too!) or she was texting to make sure I was driving my oldest to work, so that she can go with me know...pick her up, as well.

Because I am THAT fun to be with, you betcha.

Heather:  Mommy i got this it legit???  Your entry last month has WON! Goto [link withheld for blog posting purposes, bastards!] and enter your Winning Code: [code withheld for blog posting purposes, bastards!] to claim your Free $1,000 Bestbuy Giftcard!

Me:  No!!!

Me:  Especially, since we did not buy anything at Best Buy...bastards! [yes, I really texted that]

Heather:  I didn't click it, but are you sure.....

Heather:  But, what if I entered something on their site and forgot?

Aaaaaand, therein lies the rub. 

Raising 3 teens and with our youngest kid in double-digits, we are avid consumers and frequently apply for savings cards:  CVS, Game Stop, Modells, Petsmart, Pet Valu, Shop Rite, Sports Authority, Stop and name it and I probably have a savings card for it.

Because we are equal-opportunity, like that.

We also register online with some of our favorite stores (I'm looking at you, Best Buy and Pier 1) for the chance to win free stuff.

Because parents of teens spend a butt-load of money, already.

Me:  Sounds like a scam.  Texting codes allows them to hack into your stuff.  You can always call Best Buy.

Heather:  Okay, because that's a loooooot of money.

Me:  I know, which is why you should call them to verify.

Aaaaaand, she did. 

Heather:  I will....ugh, if it's a scam that really sucks.

Me:  Agreed

The customer service representative over at Best Buy confirmed the scam:  they get tons of calls ALL THE TIME about it.

Aaaaaand, Heather's right, THAT TOTALLY SUCKS!

Heather:  Wahwahwaaaaaah.  If it's real, I'll cry tears of joy.

Me:  Me too, for you!

Because sending folks bogus texts or trick advertisements...promising our teens and tweens shiny new things, for just all sorts of wrong...DAMMIT!

© 2003 - 2012 This Full House

Better Start Hoping for Rainy Days, B*tch

Veggie Garden 1

Growing up, my parents always grew their own vegetables in the summertime.  We lived with my grandmother before I started grade school and she had a vegetable garden. 

Later, my father would build a greenhouse in our backyard, using plumbing pipes and sheets of plastic film salvaged from an abandoned work site (or believed to be abandoned, anyway) which would one day play center stage for make believe expeditions to Egypt and China, late night bug hunts and marathons of hide-and-go-seek.

Veggie Garden 2
My parents surprised us with plotting out and planting our first vegetable garden, a few weeks after my husband, Garth (not his real name) and I moved into this (not yet full) house and did so, on the sly, while we were both at work.

"Our grandchildren are going to need a place to play."

We've been on many, many lovely expeditions since then and adopted several frogs, hundreds of worms and scores of other less invasive creepy-crawlies over the years and, well, I can't imagine a summer without digging in the dirt.

Veggie Garden 3
"Yes, but your back can't handle it anymore."

My husband suggested perhaps I should NOT plant a vegetable garden, this year (stupid busted up back) and we went to the mats...or, raised beds...on whether or not I would be able to handle worrying more thing.

"But, I love digging in the dirt."

Ripping out weeds by their roots, burying a spade deep into the earth, digging out my frustrations and casting them away with every rock and stone -- it's cheaper than therapy, I tell ya'.

This Full House Veggie Garden Planted
It took me ALL day -- what once would  have been only a few short hours of work -- and, trust me when I tell you it is certainly NOT the most beautiful vegetable garden you will ever see...especially, in this part of Jersey...DAMMIT!

Busted up back or not...yesterday...I made roughly 6 yards of dirt MY B*TCH and, well, I swear you could STILL hear her laughing.

Turns out she is a bit of a sadist, the b*tch.

"So, I see you're still insisting on growing a vegetable garden then."

YES!  Aaaaand, I guess we better start hoping for rainy maybe I can get some housework done...or NOT!

© 2003 - 2012 This Full House

At Our House, It's Called a Blood Drive-By

Teenager PostAs 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! 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 know...[whispers] 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 know...tooken.


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:


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

So, my son and I just sat down 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!


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 this week, confessing not teaching my kids how to ride a bike. Also, sharing a recipe for Angel Food Cake that does NOT suck!