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March 2006

February 2006

Because I lie like a rug…my name should be Matt!

Welcome to Tuesday -- it's the new Monday here at my house!

Especially since -- rather than fixing and polishing a house full of creaks and peeling paint --  we spent the entire four-day-weekend visiting with family and friends living many, many miles away.

It's like needing a vacation...from your vacation -- the kids and I thought today felt...just like a frickin' Monday!

But, it was all good -- my MIL is home from the hospital...got to visit my brother's new house...saw Mini-Me's Godparents and met their new grandchild...tasted some awfully good (grin) red wine -- and I was feeling no pain.

Until.

"Do you want to hold the baby?"

Now, typically, I would jump at the chance.  But, it's been...um...how old is Mini-me?...oh, yeah...four years...and even though I've done it many, many, many...um...how many kids do I have?...oh yeah, many times, before...I wondered if I'd even remember how...or want to...seriously!

GULP!

"Um...I don't know if I should."

Idiot -- these people are our friends -- surely, I understood how much they'd miss having friends and family so close and knew, as much as I did, that we wouldn't see each other anytime soon.

"Of course, you should!"

I bit my lower lip and wondered where my husband had gone.

"Um...I mean...he's so tiny...and I think I may be getting a cold...or something."

LIAR!

"Oh, I'm sure you're fine."

I sat on my hands and crossed my legs, uncomfortably, and wondered where my kids had gone, all of a sudden.

"I mean...uh...I don't know if I remember how."

LIAR!

"Oh, I'm sure it'll come back to you...here...take him."

And I reached for the baby, even before I knew what was happening, and I swear...it all came back to me.

That new baby smell with the teeny-tiny socks and the iddy-biddy feets...that gummy bear smile with the big eyes and little lizard tongue...that look of surprise with the kicking and the crying that says, "You are so NOT the momma!"

GULP!

And I swayed...and I coo-ed...and I tickled...and I, "Gitchy-gitchy goo-ed!"

WAAHHHH!

"I think he's just hungry, again...here...I'll take him back, now."

LIAR.

Now, I knew for sure why -- besides, the real reason why I didn't want to take him in the first place -- and it was what I was afraid of.

I'd lost my touch.

And -- as I watched her with her new son -- I wasn't a bit surprised to learn that she already had a job waiting for her on the west coast and that her husband (an ex-Air Force pilot) would be staying home with both their kids.

Nope.

What happened next, however, shocked the hell out of me!

"I give you credit...deciding to be a stay-at-home dad is probably one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do."

GAH!

Did I mention he was an Air Force pilot...like...flying combat missions...and being shot at...over enemy territory?

"Nah...piece of cake...you'll be fine."

LIAR!

Well, I guess there's a time and place for everything, and perhaps even for a little white lie, or two.

And -- as my time as a SAHM mom comes closer to an end -- even though I will always carry the memories of my babies in my heart, I am enjoying standing back and just watching them run around...needing me a little less each day...and perhaps can finally admit...that I am in a much happier place, for it.

Or, I could be wrong...but, you could just call me, MATT!

© This Full House 2003-2017. All rights reserved.

It’ll take a miracle…or at least a daddy blogger with a post titled after a Rambo movie…go figure!

I was doing some research on the conflicts of raising daughters and sons (yes, Virginia, there is a difference!) and a search page happened to lead me to a blogger I've just recently heard of (thanks, BoB) but who I can certainly relate to.

Because, like me, DadCentric is only beginning to realize that...holy crap!...my daughter(s) growing up...and I am SO NOT READY!!!

Although he does have another four years, yet -- and he is absolutely right in thinking it will come sooner than he thinks -- his post made me think that perhaps Thing Two's godfather was right:

"At least my four are all boys -- with three of yours, girls -- you're pretty much, screwed!"

At first, I thought he was exaggerating because...well...I couldn't imagine raising four boys.

Afterall, weren't boys more...you know... destructive than girls?

[ducks to avoid flying things]

Raising a boy (as well as the three girls) I feel that I am very safe in answering, "OH, HELL NO!"

Every single one of my girls...the pre-teen, tween and right down to little miss pre-k...is a total head case!

The boy...eh...basically, the only time he throws a fit is when he can't get the Ninjas to move on the Playstation II, quick enough, or when I drop him off at school...and he realizes...all of a sudden...that...he can't live without me...but, that's another topic of mommy-angst.

Don't get me wrong -- I love them...would shave my head and sit through hours of listening to their rants, raves and really bad music -- I love having daughters, I truly do!

But, when it comes down to being their mommy, I thought I'd gotten the short end of the chromosone.

Afterall, I barely survived "the talk" with the two oldest, and the third will probably kill me way before she gets to double-digits!

The boy...eh...what's his father gotta do...tell him when it's okay to smack a guy (like when he asks for it or anytime during a football game) and then, what?

Remind him to, "Put a helmut on that soldier!"

But, it's not as easy as all that -- as DadCentric reminded me -- and as I see it, when it comes to raising sons and/or daughters ...boy or girl...it doesn't matter.

IT'LL TAKE A MIRACLE...FOR ME TO SURVIVE!

They might as well draw straws to see who get's to draw blood...first!

God bless us, everyone!

© This Full House 2003-2017. All rights reserved.

Love is in the air…

Since December 12th -- the day after our first snow -- my kids have been sleeping with their pajamas inside out and on backwards (have you heard of that one?) but, it hadn't worked very well.

Until today.

Yesterday, we experienced our first winter storm of the season... got two feet of the stuff... which made for a beautifully lazy Sunday afternoon... and a snow day today, to boot!

So, I grabbed my camera, plugged in some John Paul Young, and decided share some of the brighter sides of winter...and let the pictures do the talking, for once.

 

Love is in the air
Everywhere I look around

 

.

Love is in the air
Every sight and every sound

 

And I don't know if I'm being foolish
Don't know if I'm being wise

 

But it's something that I must believe in
And it's there when I look in your eyes

 

Love is in the air
In the whisper of the trees

.
 

Love is in the air
In the thunder of the sea

 

And I don't know if I'm just dreaming
Don't know if I feel sane

.

But it's something that I must believe in
And it's there when you call out my name

 

 

 

Love is in the air
In the rising of the sun

 

 


Love is in the air
When the day is nearly done

 

.

And I don't know if you're an illusion
Don't know if I see it true

 

.
 

But you're something that I must believe in
And you're there when I reach out for you

 

.

  

And I don't know if I'm being foolish
Don't know if I'm being wise

 

But it's something that I must believe in
And it's there when I look in your eyes

Love is the air -- all you have to do is, look around -- Happy Valentine's Day from this full house!

© This Full House 2003-2017. All rights reserved.

Them clothes got laundry numbers on them; you remember your number and always wear the ones that has your number; anybody forgets his or her number spends a night in the box, with your Mother!

Seriously, it's come down to this -- the house is sick with hampers and laundry baskets filled with clothes -- and a nasty case of stomach flu literally knocked me on my ass Thursday night, and I didn't get up until...um...what day is it?

Friday's a blur -- my kids said I snored alot -- and my husband managed to keep the house...um...well, it's still standing and all four kids made it to school and back -- good job, hon!

Then all hell broke loose.

[phone rings]

"Oh, hi Mama...um...no...Daddy's not home...he's at work...huh?...um...no...Mommy isn't feeling good, yet...what?...uh...she's laying on the couch and looking kinda, yellow."

[click]

I believe it took my parents 25 minutes to complete the 45 minute drive and the next thing I knew, I was propped up with pillows, tucked into extra blankets and sipping a deliciously hot cup of tea infused with hawthorne and lime flowers.

I was in heaven.

Until.

[a creaky door opens, followed by a loud gasping sort of sound]

"Is....this....your....LAUNDRY!?!?"

[insert slashing theme from Psycho here]

My mother was shocked, but I was mortified that the laundry had gotten so out of hand, yet, not a bit surprised when she put on her reading glasses, rolled up her sleeves and started to sort my dirty laundry.

Suffice it say -- sort of like the saying, "Behind every successful woman, is a basket of dirty laundry." -- by all accounts, I am frickin' fabulous!!

But, as I got up and steadied myself against my father's arm as he led me to the bathroom, I felt pretty much like pond slime.

Then, things went all blurry, again.

It was hours later before opened my eyes, without feeling the need to reach for the puke bowl, and listened to the relaxing tones of my parents chatting in Hungarian.

[leans against dryer]

"You know, you used to do this much...remember...when we were younger and the kids were home."

[takes off reading glasses, slams washer lid and mistakenly wipes brow with dryer sheet]
"Yes...but...the crazy thing is...this is the sixth load I'm doing, but the piles don't seem to be getting any...smaller!"

Cray-zee, man!

And for the first time in...oh...I don't know...since becoming a mom...I felt:


  • Comfort in the fact that another living human being has seen the monster that resides in my house.

  • Bared witnessed to its nourishing effects on bizarre behavior.

  • Recognizes it to truly be the bain of my existence.


And, during all of this, the lovely Miss Zoot (a fellow mommy in arms in the fight against dirty laundry, survivor of the dreaded stomach virus and designer extraordinaire...and don't I feel like crap...btw...come to find that she was sick, too) has paid homage to my disdain for...*gulp*...dirty laundry...by coming up with this beautiful design with a nice clean new address for this full house.

So, my laundry is done -- FOR THE FIRST TIME, EVUH! -- my blog is looking pretty-gosh-darn-good and I'm feeling much better now!

You like?

Oh, and did I mention that -- MY LAUNDRY IS FRICKIN' DONE!!!

© This Full House 2003-2017. All rights reserved.