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October 2006

Black Eyes, Crow’s Feet and Pumpkin Guts…


We enjoyed our pumpkin day together, right before my mom went into the hospital - or, "Da hosipal," as my youngest would say - and, though her sisters and brother had no desire to get this involved, my attempts at continuing our tradition of celebrating Fall...with the ritualistic tearing into pumpkin guts...did not go unappreciated by Mini-Me.

In fact, anything that is declared gross, or "totally bees-gusting," as mandatory...well...the kid just about dives in!


Not so much.

"Ewwww...this is gross!"

Mini-Me just smiled, reached in and pulled out another handful of Jack:
"AND...totally bees-gusting!"


I hate having my picture taken - and there aren't many of my kids, that include me - for a reason.

"Ugh...that's sooo gross!"

I gave the picture back to Mini-me and she stared at it for a few minutes before finally shrugging her shoulders.
"'s not gwoss...we didn't even give him a face, yet!"

"No...not the pumpkin...MOMMY!"


I reached for the picture.
"Look...see...I don't look good pictures, like you do...mommy's eyes always come out puffy and black and...HOLY CROW...but, they look crooked in this one, see!?!"

Yesterday, dad and I brought mom home from the hospital and - after I put up a pot of soup, ran some errands and did some food shopping for them - I got home soon after suppertime and was going over my plans for the rest of the week with my husband, when Mini-Me walked into the kitchen, frowing.
"Are you coming to da' How-oh-ween pawade?"

I kneeled down and gave Mini-Me a big hug.
"Yep, someone else is gonna watch Mama and Papa for me and I don't have to go back until after tomorrow - I wrote and told teacher I would be able to help, remember!?!"

She gave me one those impish smiles (see picture above) and hugged me back.
"YAY...I'm sooo gwad...'cause, I ah-weddy telled-did my fwends 'dat you were coming and told-did 'dem to just wook for 'da mommy wif two bwak eyes and a wee-wee cwooked nose...and told-did teacher NOT to take your pitch-her...'cause you ah-ways wook wee-wee gwoss!"

[blank stare]

Phew....I'm so glad, to!

Good thing she didn't mention anything about my having crows feet and a wee-wee greasy face - or else, I'd have the whole kindergarten class pukin' - Happy Halloween, everyone!

© This Full House 2003-2019. All rights reserved.

Shh! I’m hiding. Be quiet everyone. That includes me. Shh! Who’s making that noise? Oh, it’s me again…

My poor Little Man - pictured here all curled up and fast asleep with Junie B. Jones - is the recipient of this year's "homework from hell" award, a title his two oldest sisters were more than happy to pass on.

Two pages of math, reading and one page of either Science or Social Studies, Spelling, Fix-its (correcting any work from the prior school day) and at least 20 minutes of reading...every single night.

Wednesday was no different, except - including an hour of soccer practice - he asked that I sit with him and listen to him finish the chapter he started the night before.


Not that I didn't want to, it's just that it was already after 8:00 p.m. (I know, shame on me for feeding the kids sooo late) the hubs wasn't home yet and I know...done.

"Okay, go ahead and start...just give me a chance to clear the dinner table and I'll meet you on Mommy's chair."

Twenty minutes later, so was he.
"Um...where's Little Man?"

My son has always been a deep sleeper - the only one of my babies that never, ever gave me a problem about bedtime or taking naps - and he never heard the dog bark or my husband come in.
"Uh-oh...I forgot the poor kids' been waiting for much you wanna bet he's out like a light!?!"

No need to tip-toe, I even had time to grab my cell phone, adjust the flash and take a picture.
"Little Man...LOOK OUT FOR THE TRUCK!!!"

If I hadn't been so shocked at my husband's blatant attempt at scaring the shite out of his only son, I would have taken a picture and been able to show you exactly how scared shite-less the poor kid looked.
"Well...there goes your "Father of the Year Award"...I guess."

And here's the thing - guess who my son yelled at?

" said you'd read with me...I got tired-awaitin' and...well...FORGET IT NOW...I'm done!"

He slammed the book on the floor, crossed his arms across his chest and looked over to my husband.

"Oh...hey, Dad...I didn't even know you were home, yet!"


That's it, I was sooo done - then, I came down with a nasty stomach bug yesterday, the same day Aunt Flo decides to visit - is it any wonder I feel all beat up, all the time!?!


Yes - I'll have some cheese with my whine - now that I'm done throwing up, have an overnight guest coming and about a bazillion loads of laundry and housework to catch up on before soccer, tomorrow...can someone please say something nice and NOT yell at me!
[blows bangs out of eyes and crosses arms over chest]

And if anyone needs me, I'll be upstairs...ASLEEP!



© This Full House 2003-2019. All rights reserved.

Shuddup and just smile for the crazy lady, already!

Only 9 more sleeps until Halloween and, typically, the kids would have their costumes picked out, I would be discussing Thanksgiving plans with both sides of the family already and - compounded by the excitement about the upcoming birthdays of my three oldest in Nov, Dec & Jan (NO I DON'T know what I was thinking!) - our family celebrates this time of year in a fevered-pitch!

But, this year - Autumn at This Full House of muddy paws and crunchy feet - has turned out to be anything BUT typical.

Then again, I really can't remember the last time our family did any of know...well-planned family-type sort of things.

My poor kids.

Having me for a mother - who's not feeling herself, unless she's running like a chicken with her head cut off and talking in the third person...SHEESH! - they've had to learn to live life on the fly.

To enjoy each day as it comes and each moment for what it's worth, so to speak.

This weekend, we visited my dad and - since my mom is still in the hospital and will be for the next few weeks - we asked our two oldest if they would consider staying with their Papa and keep him company in a last-minute overnight.

"No sweat...we'll hang with him, Momma!"

"Yep...we got your back, Momma!"

The two youngest - not so much.
"What...NO FAIR!...why can't we stay, too!?!"

"Yeah...I wanna sweep over Papa's house, too!"

So, yesterday, my husband and I stopped at one of my mother's (as well as my kid's) favorite places - I could still smell the apple cider donuts at Delicious Orchards...YUM! - to pick up a couple of pomegranites, hoping that they would be enticing enough for her to try and eat....something.

Because we can only get pomegranites in October...'round these parts...I realized once again, that it is Autumn...and went nucking futs in front of about a bazillion other day trekkers.

"Oooohhh...look...PUMPKINS!...quick, you guys...go stand over the pumpkins, over there...and let me take your cute ARE those pumpkins!?!"

Look at my poor son's face - doesn't it just scream:
"Shuddup and just smile for the crazy lady." 

Later, we met up with the girls for pizza and headed over to the rehab center to see my Mom.

She's doing much better (and she thanks you so much for your kind thoughts, do I!) and has promised to seek further treatment, once she recovers from the double-knee replacement (yes, Prescott...just typing the words...makes me wanna cringe!) so, I am happy to report that we all well on our way on the road to complete recovery and that things are getting back know...more normal. 


"Oooohhh...look...cornstalks...AND MUMS!...quick..."

Thank God for camera phones - just look at there faces - how else would I prove to my kids that having me for a Mom was soooo much fun!?!


© This Full House 2003-2019. All rights reserved.

Picture Perfect Thursday - Mom & Me

I scanned this photo from a picture that is over 40 years old and, believe it or not, I haven't photo-shopped, adobe-d or retouched it in any way.

The colors are bright and sunny, as if it were taken just yesterday.

Three generations - my grandmother, twin brother, my mom and me -  pictured together in a moment of serenity, during a time of increased social protest, in the year the Pulitzer Prize was cancelled as the committee announced "no work was good enough."

My mom was only 21 and had already experienced pain and seen enough blood shed to last a lifetime - more than her children ever would.

A promise, my grandmother knew, she couldn't expect to keep.

Yet, my grandmother stood by my mother's decisions (no matter how much, or how bad, it went against her grain) and helped her raise us and taught us, very early on, that no matter how difficult life got, there was always someone, somewhere, who was, "Suffering more than you'll ever know."

Little did I know - until today.

I pulled the chair closer to my mother's hospital bed, so that I could reach over the tendrils of tubes and wires, to be able to spoon the broth into her mouth without spilling too much anywhere else.

She finished most of it, but she'd lost her appetite (with the onset of the fever) and her lips were feeling chapped and numb from the morphine (my brother said) so, I sat back as she lowered herself to a position that was as comfortable as one can get after having gone through a double knee replacement the night before.

Not very, without the morphine.

Long story short, it was a very long day (can it be Thursday, already?) but, today's news that - although they could not regulate her heart rate, yesterday - there wasn't any long-term damage that couldn't be repaired.

At a later date, of course.

I leaned on the railing (after moving the morphine pump a little closer to where she could reach it) and asked my mother if there was anything else I could do for her.


"Well, if it starts hurting again...don't be a hero...give that sucker a push and take yourself a hit."

She smiled.

Then, she motioned me closer and whispered something into my ear that...well, made me think about the photo.

"I just wanna see how long I can go...but, if it get's too bad...I know YOU'LL push it for me!"


This is a photo taken last weekend - right before my mom went into the hospital - and I swear, she hasn't changed a bit!

Thanks, Mom - is it any wonder that I can't do without this woman? - thanks for allowing me to grow and be the Mom that I am...I get it...but, I still need you...ya' know.

© This Full House 2003-2019. All rights reserved.

Monday Morning With Rudee

Loooooook into my are getting sleepy...veeeeeeery sleepy!


Now, listen to me...carefully.

You will NOT feel guilty spending your Monday your blog...with me...or worry about whether or not you should rather be food shopping or doing the laundry.

In fact, you LOVE Mondays and will forget about the worry and stress you feel about the rest of the week.

You will no longer feel tired or grumpy and absolutely adore any signs of puffiness, redness and/or eye-baggage.

You ARE a wonderful person and we are ALL very lucky to know you. 

Your kids will NOT grow up warped, just because you've forgotten to pack their lunch, send in a snack, sign up for a class trip, cooked an ALL carb meal, said a curse word, or called them by the wrong name...again.

And, more importantly, you LOVE your dog to the moon and back, regardless of the fact that he may have ripped-up an entire box of tissues, chewed-up your favorite pair of sneakers and perhaps gotten into the cupboard and eaten the last of the cat food...again.

I'm just sayin'

When I count to will awaken...and remember nothing...other than how much you LOVE Mondays!





It's Monday?

YEE-HA and yippee calle...motherf**ker - pass the doggy biscuits - 'cause if this morning didn't kill me, nothing will!

Hang in there with me...'kay...'cause it's gonna be one helluva week...but, we can do me!

Just look into my PUFFY eyes...

© This Full House 2003-2019. All rights reserved.

How I plan to save the world, one cookie at a time!

Ever since the kids were little - I mean, littlier than Mini-Me - they've loved to hang out in the kitchen and, especially this time of year, we do A LOT of baking.

Not that I'm all know...domestic, or anything - though, our family does seem to spend a lot of our time here and the kitchen is probably the cleanest room in the house -  but, the nights have been getting chillier and - though the days are still hitting in the high 60' to low 70's - we try not to turn the heat on until absolutely necessary.

Like, when the kids start to complain that their feet are cold - because...hey!...heaven forbid they find their slippers or put on a pair of socks - or, we begin to see the first signs of frost and the dog's snot begins to crystalize on the front door's window.

Well,'s probably time to break out the Lysol and turn up the heat.

In the meantime, the kids and I have simply become accustomed to putting on a sweater and then...we bake!


"'s nice and warm in here and...SNIFF...something smells!"

This was the first weekend my husband's been home, since before I turned the oven on, and he hasn't been able to catch any of our kids' soccer games.  So, he was more than happy to be Soccer Mom...I mean...Dad, for the day.

And, since it was a cold and rainy morning, I was more than happy to let him!

3 hours later.

"Here...try this one!"

And, as I shoved another cookie from the third batch that morning - oatmeal raisin, I think - in his mouth, he started looking a know...less enthusiastic about having to eat...another...freakin'...cookie!
"What's the matter, doesn't it taste good?"

[shakes head]
"Numpf...if's not's just that, I believe you're trying to kill me."

[eyes go wide]
"How could you say that...I mean...I'm baking cookies...from scratch, mind you...for the last 3 hours...nothing but baking...with the kids...saving you some not running the heating bill up...and I'm trying to kill you?"

[nods head]
" does the oven run on?"

[blank stare]

Hey, I didn't say I was a rocket scientist - but, DAYUM if my kids don't love to bake and, as my son said:

"Momma sure makes a killer cookie!"


At least Mini-Me (pictured above) would seem to agree - sometimes it's good to hang with the Momma...but, it sure ain't rocket science!

Perhaps next time, I'll tell you about how I plan to give my brain to science and save the world - not to mention my children - from Dorks...LIKE ME!


© This Full House 2003-2019. All rights reserved.

Hump Day Diddy Dumbs - When in doubt…comfort her!


I ran into a friend of mine during a parent-meeting in one of our schools this morning -- well, more like...plopped down right next to her thinking, "Thank Gawd...a friendly face!" -- and, since both our youngest children are in school this year and we have other children attending the same grade, she was quick with a smile and very sincerely asked:

"So, how are you?"

[blank stare]
"You okay?"

I pursed my lips, nodded my head and pretended that I had just remembered to look for something...anything...and started digging deep into my purse.

Now, I've known this woman for quite a few years (read: knows from nucking futs) so, she smiled and continued her conversation with the woman on her right.

And you're probably wondering right about now -- as I was then -- maybe I'm nuttier than you thought.  Perhaps I've developed some sort of social disorder.  That all the years of breeding children, cleaning poo, dishing out microwaveable dinners and breathing in tons of sheet rock dust and doggie dander, have finally taken their toll.

I can't even answer a simple question, without disecting each word and weighing each syllable?

A minute or two later, another mother walked in -- one who I know only semi-well -- sees me and smiles.


I smiled back...and began to, people were expecting me to shout, "FIRE!" or "Bingo!" or, something.

She sat down to my left and I began to chatter like a frickin' chipmunk hopped-up on one too many nuts!

"So, how was your summer...what do you do...where did you go...oh, so he plays football...mine play soccer...oh, yours plays soccer, too...WOW...and football...WOW...your schedule must be you feel it's CRAZY?"


But, clearly, she thought I was!

Poor thing just sat there and listened -- smile never waning for fear of...well...nucking futs -- and quite frankly, she wasn't much of a talker.

The meeting was about to begin so I, you know, was still talking, when the mom to my right -- the friend who I've been ignorning -- looked over her shoulder at me and skooched closer:

"Don't mind me, I'm just gonna move closer to Liz."

She then took her hand, gave my elbow a little pat-rub and I stopped talking...frickin' stunned into the gesture.


Here I was, ignoring the shit out of the poor woman, and she still felt the need to pass along a warm fuzzy.

Then, it hit me -- no, not the militant p.t.o. representative in charge of...something or another -- my friend knows how difficult these passed few weeks have been and, more importantly, how crazy is it that we should be thrown together and pretend as if we were happier than flies on a pile of horse shit?  That our lives as mommies -- and soon-to-be class parents -- are now suddenly full and complete.  I mean, what else is there to complain about?  To worry about?  I mean, our lives are perfect - hell, our jobs were done, right?

[blank stare]

That's okay -- you don't have to answer that -- I know; no one likes a kill-joy.

But, sometimes, it's nice to have someone understand -- especially when you...yourself...don't know exactly how to put it into words -- that there is perhaps a lot more going on behind the awkward smile and pursed lips.

I should have never doubted my friend.

So, hopefully, the next time I run into someone -- who seems a frazzled and perhaps even a bit sharp around the edges -- rather than doubt myself, I'll be able to reciprocate and comfort her, instead.

And remember to NOT ask any questions...'kay?

[blank stare]


© This Full House 2003-2019. All rights reserved.