In Case of Emergency, Send Cheesecake!

NaBloPoMo 2015: Under Pressure

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Our youngest daughter is not a fan of hospitals. Not that anyone we know is all...yay, we're going to the hospital!!!!...or anything...but if she were to measure up with her three siblings, when it comes to being squeamish, Hope has succesfully unlocked the "Holy Crap, I'mma Throw Up!" achievement medal at the age of 8.

If it is associated in any way, shape or form to the medical profession, she will work herself into a full blown anxiety attack and then projectile vomit all over your nice, crisp, white medical lab coat -- you're welcome!

At fourteen, it bothers her to no end whenever someone suggests she is simply being dramatic and clearly that someone has never witnessed anyone projectile vomit...like a boss.

Long story short: I've been taking medication for hypertension and monitor my blood pressure, regularly. And Hope had a breakthrough while visiting my Dad at the rehab center, where she actually walked inside, passed all the medical equipment and headed straight into my Dad's room, without throwing up.

Hope: Can you take my blood pressure?

It's the little moments, when your child opens herself up and attempts to control her fears, that make me agree to do things without thinking on it, too much.

Me: Sure, pull up a seat!

I gently wrapped the blood pressure machine's cuff around her arm and reminded her that it would slowly inflate.

[turning machine on]

It began to inflate and my precious, beautiful and ever so brave daughter began to lose her shit.

Hope: It's not stopping...it's NOT stopping...MOM...IT'S NOT STOPPING...AHHHHHH...MAKE IT STOP...GAAAAAAAH!!!!!

10 seconds later, it stopped.

Hope: Huh, that wasn't soooo bad, how'd I do?

[leaning over the machine]

Me: All things considered, your blood pressure isn't too bad at all.

Hope: GRIN!

Me: You're heart rate, on the other hand, is 128.

Hope: Yeah, BUT I didn't throw up!

End scene.

© This Full House 2003-2016. All rights reserved.

NaBloPoMo 2015: Ocu-LOL-inctus

Yesterday started out uneventfully enough -- I hopped onto the train (okay, so it was more like a slow side-step, being very weary of not falling in between the dreaded gap) settled into my seat (near the emergency exit, of course!) and then started playing around with my phone.

Crushing Your Head
What?!? I get bored, easily.

And then my left eye began to twitch and I started rubbing it...and rubbing it...and daaaaaaang, what is UP with the itching...so I rubbed it some more, blaming the stupid cat or the dumbass dog for dumping hair all over the house. 

I got into work and then the coughing started...cough-cough...hack...gag...cough-cough...OMG!!!...what is up with all this...cough-cough...hacking?!?!?! I've had this weird sort of nothing cough since spring, so I thought maybe it's allergies...rub...rub...rub...and the itchy eyes must be like fall allergies...OR...I'm just allergic to work.

What?!? YOU TOO!!! Ugh, one of us needs to win the lottery and end our agony, right?!?

So, by the end of the day, my left eye was beginning to hurt and now my right eye was getting all weepy, but I really needed to finish up a few projects before leaving for home, so I texted my husband:

Pink Eye Text

So, I got on the train and then the pain hit...not like, hmmmm, this sucker hurts...I'm talking about the full-metal-holy-crap-I'm-dying-ova-here...ME EYE!!!! And then I InstaFacebooked it:

YUCK!Seeeeee, totally gross, right?!?!?

So my husband, Garth (not his real name) picks me up at the train station and takes me to the doctors office. We were waiting for quite a while and I was getting restless, because ME EYE!!! So, as a way of distracting myself from the full-metal-holy-crap-I'm-dying-ova-here, I started telling my husband about the conversation I had with my co-workers, before leaving the office.

"I told them it was probably pink eye and then one of them asked me if I had heard about the licking eyeball fetish?!?"

[blank stare]

"I looked it up on the train home and found out it has a name, too: Oculolinctus."

[blink-blink-rub-rub-blink]

"Even though I was a little afraid about Googling licking eyeballs, because you never know what the Internet will spit out!"

[one beat, two beats]

Aaaaand, oh how he laughed...and laughed...

[the sound of crickets chirping]

Moral of the Story: I put the LOL into Oculolinctus!

[the sound of crickets gasping for air, and then falling down, dead before even hitting the floor]

Stupid pink eye, dumbass OcuLOLinctus.

NaBloPoMo November 2015

© This Full House 2003-2016. All rights reserved.

One Flew INTO the Cuckoo's Nest

Today started out not so great, however, I was mentally prepared for it (living with 3 teens, a 20-something-year-old and not sleeping very well, having agonized over ALL the things, last night), because there's always a fair amount of crazy going on at our house and I am a fully-functional worry wart.

Heather: Holly has an interview, so you're taking me to work, right?

There's a long and very convoluted story of why Heather doesn't have her driver's license, yet. It's not my story to tell. Suffice it to say, spring cannot come quick enough.

Me: Yup!

[looks out window]

BAH!, it's snowing like crazy.

Because I'm a...BAH!!! It's snowing like crazy!!!...sort of driver. Then the car broke down and then something broke in my head. You know, the type of broke that makes your nose run, while you stare at absolutely nothing, and a long line of spit starts to form...from your chin...to your chest.

Or am I the only one who has broken head, runny nose and spit-forming-from-your-chin-to-your-chest-type moments?

So, yeah, I was feeling very, very sorry for myself, when I heard the bird hit the backdoor.

BONK!!!!!

Heather: OH NO, IS IT DEAD?!?

My middle girl was working from home (because the car broke and then MOM'S HEAD BROKE!) and we both just stood at the back door, staring at this poor little bird, lying on its stomach with its legs all splayed out and its face stuck in the snow.

Me: Well, its legs are moving.

But the poor bird seemed to be having trouble lifting its head from out of the snow.

Me: Maybe it just knocked the wind out of itself.

I know...I personally would've been all...HOLY CRAP!!!...who put that door there, dammit?!?

So, I reached down, picked it up, held the poor thing in my hands and stroked the top of its head...while the snow dripped from its beak...in a light shade of pink.

Heather: Look, Mom is being all Snow White.

Not really, I was wearing pajamas, but it was snowing.

Me: He's breathing a bit funny, but his eyes are open, I don't want to scare it.

I wiped the snow from the back step and gently placed him down.

Me: We'll just have to let nature take its course.

I mean, it's a bird. Birds don't live that long, anyway. Right? Flying into stuff or getting eaten by something bigger. What are you going to do? It's survival of the fittest.

Me: FRIG THAT!

I grabbed some lint from the dryer (there's always plenty to share!) and placed it under the bird.

Me: There, now his belly won't be cold.

The bird was still awake, but not moving much, besides flexing his tail feathers.

Heather: Maybe we can put him in a basket and hang him up high, so the hawk doesn't get him.

GOOD IDEA!!! I grabbed one of the baskets from the kitchen, lined it with some more dryer lint, gently placed the bird inside and hung the basket right outside the backdoor.

Basketfull of Bird

Now, mind you, both Heather and I were running around the house...looking for just the right basket...and more lint...during this entire time...with the dog running right behind us...because BIRD!!! 

And then Melisa called.

Me: OMG! We're trying to save a bird!

Melisa has visited with us a couple of times (most recently, this past October) so she's used to the crazy. Aaaaand she can pretty much follow along (for better or worse) whenever I crazy-talk.

Safe and sound

The poor bird...I couldn't just let it die...it DESERVES a chance to live...I'M GOING TO SAVE THIS BIRD, DAMMIT!!!...and she kept listening, because she is a good friend, like that.

Heather: I think it's moving around!

So she stepped outside to take a closer look...

Heather: OH!!! It just flew away!!!

Then something else broke in my head and I started crying into the phone. And then my daughter wanted to know why I was crying?

Me: Because...[sniff-sniff]...I already started writing this blog post...[wiping nose]...in my head...[sniff-sniff]...with two alternate endings.

I like this ending MUCH better, because that's EXACTLY how my mind works and welcome to my brain!

Melisa: IT'S A SIGN!!!!

Aaaaand, then my day started to get MUCH better.

Me: Now If only I could come up with a good title!

Blog post title inspiration, courtesy of Melisa.

© This Full House 2003-2016. All rights reserved.

James and The Chocolate Advent Calendar

It's the holidays, again -- or the holidaze, as we call it at our house. It hit 70+ degrees, yesterday...and the Weather Channel dudes promised 60's, today...then we're supposed to get hit with a snow storm, tomorrow...and WELCOME TO JERSEY!

I even saw a couple of gnats flying around, all confused and stuff, until I squashed them against the kitchen window...because gnats are gnasty.

[sound of crickets, gasping for breath]

Aaaaaanyway, for the holidaze to have officially arrived at our house, at least one of three things has probably happened.

  1. A major appliance has died or is very nearly dead.
  2. Someone in our immediate family is dealing with a medical emergency.
  3. One of the vehicles is in need of a major repair.

And by Thursday, we hit two out of three: the water heater broke; Doofus-dawg got REAL sick and we had to rush him to the animal hospital on Saturday.

Aaaaaand, YES!!! We consider our pets as immediate members of our family, because fur babies are people, too.

[the sound of crickets, exploding]

Long story, short: the hits just keep coming, it's been a loooooooong and stress-filled week/month/year, you guys.

There IS some good, here: our Doofus-dawg pulled through and is on his way to a full recovery, just in time for "Are you going to eat ALL that Turkey?" Day.

[knocking on wood, until knuckles bleed]

Okay, that's some REAL GOOD news...right there!

"Hey mom, it's me."

Aaaaaand, then...after spending last weekend with friends...my oldest called home, very early (i.e. before I had a chance to finish my first cup of coffee) yesterday morning.

"My car broke down."

Without going into too much detail (you're welcome!) this, my friends, is a fine example of THE WORST possible timing, at it's best.

"GAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

My two oldest girls carpool, together. My oldest is in-between jobs, at the moment. Both of our cars have hit 100,000+ miles. For reasons too looooooong and booooooooring to go into, something in my brain broke. I was just two gray cells shy of having a total mental breakdown.

"Call your father!"

Because I'm an awesome mom, like that.

2 cups of coffee later, I dropped my middle girl off at work and, although I was much calmer than when we first left the house (I blame it on my broken brain), my thoughts grew very dark.

Why this? Why now? Why us? And, more importantly, how in the heck was I going to get 2 other people to work, with 1 working car between us?

I pulled a u-ey (or a u-turn, if you're not from Jersey) and decided to make a quick stop at Michaels, because suckage like this calls for some serious yarn-therapy...YO!

Yarn therapy

There were three skeins of the oatmeal-colored yarn I needed...yes, I NEEEEEEDED THEM!!!...and thank goodness, because I was already running dangerously low on gray cells...but I only grabbed two skeins...so as not to deny anyone else some yarn-therapy...and welcome to my brain!

"Hold onto the calendar TIGHT, Jimmy."

I stood in line behind a woman with three little kids, I'm guessing all under the age of double-digit-back-talk, the youngest sitting in a stroller and holding on...TIGHT....to an advent calendar.

[whispering]

"There's chocolate in here!"

[a little louder]

"The kind you eat!"

I looked down and realized that the little boy was actually talking to me.

"Mmmm...hmmm."

Pro-Tip: Little kids aren't very good at understanding when an adult isn't in the mood for conversation, just so you know.

"Every day, we get to eat one piece!"

This time, I just nodded my head, because I'm awesome with little kids, like that.

"Me...my sisters...even my dad..."

A grin broke out all over his face and I began to feel this funny sort of fuzzy warm start to wash over my body.

"Wow...you mean, you share chocolate with your dad, too?!?!"

He smiled, nodded his head and continued to poke at the calendar.

"Uh-huh...aaaaaand...he gets to open the FIRST window!"

Aaaaaand then it hit me...like a trunk-load of unfinished baby books, upside the head...the longing for the days when a quick trip to Michaels and a simple little chocolate advent calendar could bring a smile to our faces, like that.

"We get one of these, all the times!"

Funny thing is, so do we...ALL the times...in fact, arguing over who opened the first (or last) window has become a sort of family tradition, every December 1st.

Along with putting their shoes out on St. Nicholas Day, every December 6th!

Something in my brain began to heal. I was once again reminded of the little things that make this frazzled, wigged-out and very tired mama's heart...happy.

"Wow, it's so nice of you to let your dad open the first one!"

And then the suckage didn't seem all that bad, really. Nothing that we can't live (or haven't lived) through, before.

"Yeah, I know. His name is James, just like mine!"

Nothing that a chocolate advent calendar couldn't remedy, I mean.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you...James!"

I smiled all the way back to my way car, I even made eye contact with folks (some of them, smiling back), because I just got schooled...by a pre-schooler. And thank you for the reminder, little James.

©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything!  

© This Full House 2003-2016. All rights reserved.

Cape Cod or Bust[ed] Arm!

I used to be an excellent planner. Also, very, very organized and a bit of clean freak...with borderline germaphobe tendencies...especially, during the holidays or whenever we'd have company over.

Seriously, my husband's favorite parlor trick was to take a glass from off of a coaster, slide it onto the living room table and then countdown...5...4...3...2... [whispering] ...watch this!

I'd come into the room, place the glass back onto the coaster, wipe the table off with my apron, and then place the cheese platter in the center of the table, alongside a nice pile of coordinated cloth napkins, of course.

Heh. Just kidding. I never wore an apron. And too much cheese gives me gas (you're welcome!). Also, doing the laundry was NEVER my favorite thing...soooooo, yeah...NO CLOTH NAPKINS, EVER!

Aaaaaanyway, then we had kids. Then a couple more kids came along and, well, nothing gets you over being a bit of a clean freak...with borderline germ-a-phobe tendencies...like your baby throwing up...in your mouth.

On the other hand, being a mom HAS helped me get over OTHER stuff, like my:

  • Fear of needles -- having spent nearly 3 years of my life pregnant and having gone through roughly 32 prenatal visits, 24 of them with children in tow, there were plenty of OTHER things to obsess about.
  • The sight of blood -- AND NEEDLES!!!
  • The sight of any bodily fluid, really -- because, BABIES and... [hurl] ...NEEDLES!!!
  • Running out of bandaids -- got hair thingies and a tissue, you'll live.
  • Running late, again -- 4 teenagers, 3 of them girls, enough said.
  • Running out of clean clothes -- see previous bullets, above.
  • Having the house define me -- meh, it could be messier...ME TOO!!!
  • Flatulence during yoga class -- been there, done that, yoga is stupid.

Just to name a few, but the one thing my husband and I have BOTH learned to live with is: NOT planning stuff until...the...very...last... [picks up cell phone, checks time] ...possible...minute.

Which drives some other people crazy, I'm certain of it -- especially, hardcore planning-types (sickos!).

For example: Garth (not his real name), our two oldest girls and I had Labor Day off, so we thought it would be GREAT if we could try...and I mean try, really, really hard...to get away for the weekend...you know...together...at the same time and everything.

"Do you know where we are going, yet?"

So, by that Friday, the younger kids were getting a little excited (and curious) about where we were actually going to try...really, really hard...to spend our mini-vacation.

"Not sure, yet."

Me, too!!!

"But, I can tell you, we'll be travelling either North or South."

[cue house phone]

"Don't freak out or anything Mom, but...."

Typically, whenever one of my children begins a sentence with...Don't freak out...it's really code for...Ya' better pop a pod into the Keurig...because, it's probably not going to be good-ish news.

"I'm in the E.R."

See what I mean?!?!

[fires up Keurig]

Long story, short (on the day we were going to try really, really hard to leave): our oldest daughter was finishing up her shift at work, slipped, fell and broke her arm and...well...good thing they finished wrapping it by the time I got there, because...believe it or not...this was our first broken bone, ever... [knocking on wood, until knuckles bleed] ... and HURL!!!

"Will I be able to travel?"

Even longer story, shorter: she broke her elbow, so the hospital wrapped her arm with a temporary cast and instructed us to see an Orthopedist in a couple of days; traveling with it would be fine, as long as she kept it elevated and iced...the ENTIRE 6 HOURS to Cape Cod...while there...and then back, again.

20140831_141808
remember that time when holly broke her arm and we went to the cape, anyway?

What?!? We take our vacation time very, very seriously...YO!...and it turns out this kid has a very high pain tolerance (yes, totally unlike her mother!), she was an absolute trooper throughout the entire weekend!

IMG_20140830_133200
remember how mommy kept asking her if she was alright and how it made holly absolutely crazy?!?

What?!? It was my first time taking care of a kid with a broken bone, a'ight?!? And her baby sister was much worse, if you ask me, always getting in between us, so I wouldn't bump her arm.

10641294_803265656360324_1724311760265843484_n
remember how much fun we had visiting some of our favorite spots and...hey...where IS holly, anyway?!?

Holly DID manage to get in A LOT of quality time...with her dad...and the other three kids didn't seem to mind, sort of.

Flash-forward, this past Tuesday: my husband took Holly to the Orthopedist (heh, yeah, we ALL thought it best HE take her) and I'm NOT going to lie to you, I was a little nervous for her...okay, A LOT!!!...and I prepared myself for the absolute worst news...like, surgery... [HURL!] ... and had my game face on...when they got home.

"Ummm...soooo...how'd it go?!?"

She shook her head.

"You're not going to like this."

She started pulling her arm out of the sling...and...OMG!!!...like, I really didn't want to see it...and....

"TA-DAH!!!!"

I winced.

"Wait, no cast? No bandages? No nothing?"

Turns out, you don't want to immobilize a broken radial bone.

"It's the part that allows your arm to turn from side-to-side."

With exercise and using the sling when out and about in public, her elbow should heal itself within 6 months. YAY!!!!

"Oh, but there's a bunch of blood pooled in between the break...mom...MOM?!?"

Apparently, I still have issues with blood...and flatulence.

The End.

©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything!   

© This Full House 2003-2016. All rights reserved.

There's a hole in the bucket, dear GarthNHRN.

My husband, Garth (not his real name) has a lot of stuff on his plate at work. So, When it comes to taking care of the stuff here in the house, the kids and I have this one unspoken rule: if it is NOT broken, don't try to fix it. And if it is broken, then for the LOVE of all the things that mom let's YOU get away with, do NOT tell your father.

Because, more often than not, I was the one who probably broke it AND that is precisely when the "unspoken" part of the rule would come into play.

Long story, short (seriously, I love you guys THAT much!) we've done A LOT of this, lately:

 

Even longer story, short (this is the part where you begin to understand exactly WHY my husband does NOT allow me to use his real name and then start to feel VERY thankful that you do NOT have to live with me, you're welcome!): our house phone hasn't been working right (like in, not at all) since forever.

The phone line shows in use, although it is not, so incoming calls are not getting through to the phone (it rings through for the caller, the phone does not ring on our end), but the calls ARE showing up on our caller i.d., which seems to be working fine on our television, judging by the kids hollering THE NAME of whoever happens to be calling at the time, because of course.

"GRANDMA'S CALLING!!!!!"

Fun times, my friends. Aaaaaanyway. The phone guy was here last week and declared our phone lines #FUBAR, because OF COURSE!  And, after seeing signs of an on-going renovation (although longtime readers will already know that it's been going on for the last 20 years, but whatever), he insisted that we could probably save the $100 bucks and just have Garth (not his real name) fix it.

Which, in my mind, I'm hearing as:

  • We could save some money.
  • Instead of bleed money.
  • Because, quite frankly, with another kid looking at colleges AND taking into consideration the laws of #FUBAR...dude...we are ALL bled out.
  • But, we could actually save some money.
  • And maybe my husband will feel good about having fixed something, himself.
  • Oh, and we could save some money.

So then, GarthNHRN surprised me by taking the day off from work on Friday...to do just that...okay, maybe not. Still. It was super-great timing on his part, RIGHT?!?

And then, I decided to do a speed clean, while he showered, because I am super-efficient like that AND a dazzlingly-clean floor helps to distract people from noticing all the sheetrock (feel free to use that tip, btw!) until I noticed the loose tile behind the door and then found the hole in the floor.

We took in some water damage during Hurricane Irene (and then the house took another hit during Superstorm Sandy), but what we didn't realize is the sub-flooring had gotten squishy in sections by the door and, well, #FUBAR!!!

Aaaaand, it took ALL my strength NOT to enforce the "unspoken" rule and show my husband.

He took it better than I thought, although I could almost hear his brain screech to a halt and see the hair that hadn't already turned gray...go white...so, I enforced the "one thing at a time" rule and we decided to focus on fixing the phone line...because #FUBAR!!!

We then headed to our home away from home...Home Depot.

"I need to get a new staple gun, because you broke mine."

Actually, NO!!! I broke my husband's electric staple gun, but that was YEARS ago!!! And I know...FOR A FACT...that he decided to replace it with a non-electrical staple gun...after I nearly electrocuted myself...by accident.

Pro-Dork Tip: metal screening and electric do NOT mix.

I actually said that...OUT LOUD...to the amusement of a couple of contractors and such...and if you ARE a contractor, you really should be shopping with us at Home Depot (or Lowes, we're easy) because, #FUBAR!!!

And then GarthNHRN reached for the non-electrical staple gun.

"It used to look like this one!"

But, I still insisted it couldn't have been me who broke it, because I couldn't even squeeze the trigger handle hard enough on THIS one to use it...aaaaaaaaand...oh, wait.

[eyes go wide]

Here's another Pro-Dork Tip: using a hammer on a staple gun, to help bang the trigger handle down on the staple gun, WILL break the staple gun.

Right. So. If anyone needs me, I'll be waiting for ANOTHER repairman...in the floor behind the front door...most likely. 

[cue Walter, laughing]

And for those of you too young to understand the reference to the blog title, here ya' go:

 

Oh, and just so you know, GarthNHRN was able to fix the phone line, 6 hours and $150 later...stupid phone guy, dumbass squishy floors.

©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything! 

© This Full House 2003-2016. All rights reserved.

Sure, I like snow: just not so wet, cold and snowy.

As a family of Jersey girls and boys -- my husband, Garth (not his real name), the kids and I were ALL born and raised here -- we've grown accustomed to snow.  It's the wintertime.  We live on the East coast.  It snows on the East coast, especially in wintertime, sometimes it even snows A LOT.

Holly not digging #Janus
Our oldest was not digging, helping me dig out of #Janus.

Yesterday was no exception, although when the forecast called for "a major snow event" we immediately split into two camps: there is team "I hope we get dumped on!" and the other half of us are all...I HOPE [enter name of next major snow storm, here] BLOWS OUT OVER THE FRIGGIN' OCEAN, THE JERK.

Guess which one I'm on?!? G'head, I'll wait.

We've had winter storms that start off with a BANG (or BAH-TAH-BING, if you're from Jersey) and then sort of just fizzle out, but then OTHER times they really do turn into major snow events, THE JERKS.

Winter storm Janus (rhymes with hanus, I know it's really spelled heinous, just not as funny) turned out to be a BIG FAT JERK!

To save on snow days (our kids get out in late June, when the rest of the nation's summer vacation is almost already over, as it is) our schools decided to call an early dismissal.  Which is GREAT!  Unless your kid attends a school that is 25 miles away from home (approx. 30 mins. on the Parkway, on a good day, if you're from Jersey), like one of mine does. 

School bus #Janus
This dude, right here, deserves a nice hot cup of coffee (or cawfee, if you're from Jersey) and then maybe even a medal.

It took Heather's bus driver 2 hours to get home and I spent almost ALL of those TWO HOURS staring out our front door (it's okay, the neighbors who live directly across the street from us weren't home and they don't really like us, anyway) giving the stink eye to the cars who whizzed on by...not realizing (or caring) that...you know...IT'S SNOWING...SIDEWAYS...SO SLOW DOWN, YOU JERK!!!

Don't even get me started on having kids old enough to drive in the snow...their ownselves...UGH!!!

I mean, I used to like the snow.  Especially, when my kids were little-er, but a little more willing to, you know, actually go outside AND walk in it.  

So, after lamenting how I would like snow EVEN MORE if it wasn't so wet, cold and snowy, my friend Beth was kind enough to help me to realize that perhaps I just wish it resembled beach sand...a little more...okay, A LOT!

She also happens to be a Jersey girl, YO!

©2003 -2013 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything! 

© This Full House 2003-2016. All rights reserved.