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November 2006

Picture Perfect Thursday - Hand In Hand

Although we were only two-years-old at the time, my brother insists that he remembers our first trip to Hungary and especially this picture of us taken while playing tag in Hero's Square.

We passed it around at Thanksgiving and my kids couldn't stop giggling at "Uncle Bud's funny-looking suit," and "Mommy's goofy shoes."

No, I didn't crop it on purpose - though, scanning it to fit worked out nicely - it's a picture of a picture sister-in-law's the computer whiz, not me!

She's working on a scrapbook for my brother - don't worry, he doesn't read my blog and I don't think I ruined any sort of surprise - and did wonders with this really worn (okay, it's not that old) photo of us.

I wish you could see it.

It looks practically brand new and as if it were only taken...well...way less than 40 years ago, anyways.
A lot has changed since then and - although we still try to see and speak Hungarian with my parents, as much as we can - my brother and I both have very busy lives which, unfortunately, means that we don't get to see each other as often as...well...since way back (okay, not that far) when we were kids, really.

But, when we do, it's like we were little...all...over...again.

[same dorky grin]


I stand on my tip-toes, kiss him, tell him what's been bothering me and then remind him to call our folks, sometime soon.

[sounding like Fozzy Bear]

" problem."

You see, it's been like this...well...forever.

Even as babies, my parents said I was always the restless one - jumping the hell out of my crib while my brother sat in one corner, contently staring at his socks - and it's sometimes hard to believe that my brother is even a Gemini, let alone being born twins!

Then again:

Gemini go everywhere together, hand-in-hand, symbolizing your dual nature. Our world comes in pairs: good and evil, male and female, in and out, yin and yang -- and you Geminis are living proof.

You think that's freaky - then you should really see my shoes!

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

On the sixth day after Thanksgiving, my true love gave to me…

Thisfullhousefoldingparty loads of neatly folded laundry!

[crickets chirping]

Hey, after sixteen years of marriage...four kids...not to mention one hell of a dirty house...and add to that a totally erotic and rockin' dream...that included him...even after watching him, last night...he should consider himself lucky, no?

Happy Hump Day - here's hoping ya'll get lucky, today!

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

God rest y’e merry gentlemoms…

...else life gets in your way - gather your blogging fodder and tell us about your day!?!

Forgive me for not being a very good writer - and an even worse blogger, lately - but, you know...if you've been blogging as long as I have (over three years, now) and especially if you're a mommyblogger (read: got kids?) well, then you know how difficult life put into words.

How it's easy to get caught up in all the hype and sometimes feel like you have to be somewhere, are forgetting someone or should be doing something...else.

Like me.

No, I don't have an especially difficult life (knock on wood) and - although, my friends would probably agree I CAN be very forgetful - I don't think that I am anything special or any different from any other mother who's trying to keep her shit together.

Sorry, mom!

But, I believe that I have had an epiphany and I feel the need to share it with you.

This is the first Thanksgiving Dinner that I have ever had the pleasure to host...EVUH! really, it was one of the calmest and most stress-free holidays I can remember...since the kids were in diapers, anyways.

Even my kids noticed a difference - hey, look...holy crap...mommy's happy! - as I smiled and explained to my husband what it is exactly I planned to do with "all those pickles!"

This was the first time my mom has been over our house since her surgery (in October) so, my husband and I came up with the idea of putting together a fun, family craft project.

The kids drew names and were teamed-up with their grandparents and created pretty gingerbread houses (to take home as Thanksgiving favors) along with some pretty terrific memories, I hope!

At least, it's the first a long while...that I can ever  remember my kids NOT feeling bored.

Or, the rest of my family feeling as comfortable and happy, as I was.

So, here's what I'm thinking - shit happens.

Sorry, Mom!

But, it's okay - so what if I don't have a job, the roof leaks and I'm probably late, or forgot to do something, or be somewhere and missed out on something...again - sometimes, life is good...too!

And just being able to hang out with my kids, finding my mojo and then writing about it - even if it's daaaaaaays in between - feels pretty good, too...I'm matter what other people may think!

Or...[gasp]...maybe it's just me!?!

Don't worry - I'm sure something screwy will happen, soon - there's always Christmas ;o)

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

How about a little more Halloween, to go with your Thanksgiving?!?

Hey...YOU!...yeah, you...Thanksgiving is only four days away...three, if you're sitting here and blogging...when you should be scrubbing tiles, herding killer dust bunnies, hiding the laundry and preparing for a houseful of, my mother-in-law is gonna look under the beds...although, it is kind of hard to NOT notice all the dust...who can blame me, though...raising four kids...two cats...and one garbage-picking, sock-eating, bone-headed chocolate the way...will jump on my mother...and probably break her new knees...but, where can I put a 90 pound dog...that isn't already hiding laundry...and what the hell is that smell, anyways...GAH! I'm sounding like an Ellen Degeneres commercial...[ohm] the CAN do this...WE can do this...get through the holidays in one piece and with most of our sanity...intact.

[blank stare]

Or, not!

[crosses eyes and sticks out tongue]

If my mother, punched your mother, in the nose, what color blood came out?

"Don't even think about it...or, else...I'll have to send for my posse!"

Now, if you'll excuse me...I'm going to go scream now...pop some Advil...and then continue to scrape together some sort of dinner plans...that include rotting pumpkin flesh...'cause it's almost Thanksgiving...and I'm still NOT over Halloween, yet!

Happy Monday, y'all!

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

I don’t think early Native Americans even ate salty corn chips or spoke like Scooby Doo, did they!?!


Today was "Native American Indian Day" and - as it is one of the many highlights in every kindgartener's year - I was very pleased to be able to join in the pre-Thanksgiving festivities at my two youngests' school.

Mini-Me was apart of the "purple tribe" (her favorite color, btw!) and I was supposed to man (or woman) the "cranberry station" but, was bumped (along with another mom) to the "snack station."

Easy, yes?

I've dealt with hungry...sweaty...tired...over-stimulted and often times cranky children, before - I thought dolling out the apple juice and corn chips a bit of a cushy job, actually.

So did my fellow-mommy-helper.

Heck, we had a system - I handled the juice, while she took over plating up the corn chips - and the first two tribes (out of ten, I think) weren't even that hungry.

So, we did what most mother's do - a little chit-chat and soon, we discovered that we had a lot of things in common.

Both our husbands worked in the financial industry, we were SAHM who are in the midst of re-examining (so to speak) our lives and worried way too much about our kids, their future, hated food shopping, our diets...and so on...and so on...
But, one of the most sensitive issues (for the both of us) was that we are, unfortunately, also migraine sufferers.

"When was the last time you had one?"

[shrugs shoulders and refilling juice cups]
"Um...a few weeks ago, actually...and then my house caught on fire."

[eyes go wide]

I filled her in on my bad luck and how yesterday's freaky Nor'easter (I mean, wtf is up with all the storms, lately!?!) and how our electricity dimming and flickering on and off (five times) gives me (and my kids) the willies, when she - obviously feeling very comfortable - turned the tides on our conversation towards topics.

Past history.

"So, you have a seven-year-old son, too...who did he have for kindergarten?"

[blinking away the floaters]
"Oh, um...Mrs. you want me to take over with the corn chips?"

[raises eyebrow]
"Did you like her?"

[scratches at chin, trying to ignore underground zit]
"Uh...I guess she was okay...but, like...well, her room is very small and always seemed so discombobulated and nothing ever seemed to go smoothly for my son...and I really don't think that Mrs. Very-Well-Liked-Except-By-Me handled some of know...more sensitive issues...very well, at all."

[raises both eyebrows]
"Oh what?"


Now, I'm going to break into the story here for a minute to explain to those who DO NOT suffer from migraines that - although the physicians I've seen have all different opinions on this issue - one of the key triggers to most migraine is food, namely (in my case) salt.

Let's continue and I'll try to keep the conclusion of my story, brief.


[munching on chips]

" son had an accident the very first week of school and...I come to learn that she has this policy about kids going to the bathroom...while she's teaching...and let's just say was son was terribly embarrassed...and she sort know...poo-poo'd it under the rug."

Her eyes went real wide and I followed her gaze to the classroom door to find...YUP!...Mrs. Very-Well-Liked-Except-By-Me casually walking towards the "snack center."

[flashing a gummy smile]

"Oh...HI! ARE you...I didn't realize that you had ANOTHER this age level!?!"

[shoves a handful of chips into mouth]
"HUH...rye, RES...res rye do!"

My mommy-helper looked as uneasy as I did - minus spitting food all over herself - and was soon to prove a quick recovery.
"All the more to enjoy Native American Indian Day...right, Liz...more chips!?!"

Morale of today's story: You can't pick your nose...but, you can pick your friends...even when you didn't count on it...especially in school...or...something like that.

Quick, somebody shove a cranberry in my mouth...and shut me up...because my head is really starting feel yucky...and I guess I better stop now...before I hurt myself!?!

TGIF - have pity for the rest of us turkies and consider a chicken for Thanksgiving, instead!

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

Hump Day Diddy Dumbs: Pomegranites, it’s what’s for dinner!

I have a confession to make - ready? - here it goes:


I'd much rather push an old-fashioned reel (no gas) lawn mower through a field of sticky balls than have to spend half the day in a supermarket.

Grocery shopping - besides doing laundry and prenatal/postpartum hemorrhoids - has to be the worst pains-in-the-ass there is.

For a mom (or, dad) food shopping sucks and anyone who tells you different is either lying, doesn't have kids or just nucking futs!


When was the last time you went food shopping and - after two hours of standing, being bumped, poked and asked to move, having to excuse yourself, or reach things other people can't and blowing more than two-thirds of your budget...on cereal, cleaning products, laundry detergent, toilet paper, pet food and water...alone - left the store feeling all warm and if you could do it all over again!?!

But, you will - perhaps as soon as the next day - and if you are a mom (or, dad) well...BOOYAH!...people have nerve to wonder why we look know...bitchy?
NOT today.

In fact - seeing as I was showered, dressed and wearing makeup before 9:00 a.m. - I was in a pretty good mood and looked know...sort of, good.

Got done in record time - an hour and a half - and unloaded my 112 items (as I later read on my receipt) onto the conveyor belt and I believe I was even...whistling...a little.


[snapping her gum]

"WOW...that's a lot of food...what are you...feeding an army!?!"

"Um...yeah...I guess so..."

I don't know about you...but, I have this small internal voice that typically tells me to, "Back off," or, "Best keep quiet," and "Why not quit while your ahead," in these types of situations.

But, as my husband so fondly refers to...sooner or later...the crazy's got come out!

[rolls eyes]

" at all that must like to eat a lot of Cheerios...huh!?!"

[does she NOT hear the warning bells?]

"Only when it's on sale."

[rolls eyes some more]
"And you're is this called...

[leafs through flyer]
Oh...pomegranites...EWWW...I don't think I've ever eaten one...who the hell eats pomegranites!?!"

"Ah,'s not like that, at husband and I just use the juice...and we rub it all overselves at night...great for the libido!"

[blank stare]
"Uh...[snapping gum]...okay...what's a libido!?!"

Morale of the story: There's just no shocking some, STOP TRYING...DAMMIT!

Anybody want a piece of my pomegranites!?!

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

Star Wars, Living Lego-less & Versing Mini-Me

In the neverending search for peace and tranquility - not to mention the cutting down of as much whining as possible - in our little corner of the empire, I have allowed my seven-year-old son to host his first sleep-over Friday, inviting his best friend from school for what promises to be a night filled with much yelling (man, boys are LOUD!) stomping and jumping on furniture, as the two boys make a valiant effort to battle hostile forces from the dark side.

My three girls.

Look, it's not like I can't say as I blame them - the boys, I mean - after all, being born female...and raising three girls of my me when I say that...girls are harder than boys!

I'm not saying raising boys is easy - remember...I have one of those, too! - they're just...different.

For example:

"Five minute warning - we are going to school in FIVE MINUTES - finish up and be ready to leave in five minutes!"

And three girls go nuts as they try and put on their different shirt...another pair of pants...that matches the shirt, better...more the very last minute...and barely make it out of their bedroom - that looks very much like a casualty of war, by the way - alive and in one piece!

The boy?

"What...we have school, today!?"

Either way, I'm screwed.

But, I do feel - having three sisters and no speak of...[knocking on wood]...anytime, soon...or, ever...if the husband knows what's good for him - as if my son is at a disadvantage.

Living in a houseful of girls - not to mention a very hormonal mother - can be real hard!

So, I often times take advantage of Car-pooling Mom's suggestion of sending him around the corner, to her house, to play with her three sons and...more girls!

But, lots and lots of Legos.

"They even got the new Lego Star, the first one...that we don't have...but, you rented from Blockbuster...but, this is the second one...that you won't probably buy, either...because it's like, forty-five-hundred dollars...or,, "J" is gonna ask his mom...if he can bring it we can verse each other on Friday...because, you's probably still too expensive...and you won't buy it...probably!"

Probably not.

But, that's okay - that's what friends with lots of cool toys and plenty of brothers to share are for, right? - allowing his friend to stay over will surely make up for being such a cheapskate!


Heaven knows saving him from versing Mini-Me - who still insists that crying, "No fair," or "Girls go first," and "You should let me win because I'm still yiddle!" actually does increase her chances of winning - no doubt, will give me a run for my money!

[heavy sigh]

I don't know how this weekend will turn out, but - especially, since I'm supposed be taking my newly-teenaged-daughter and a bunch of her girlfriends to the mall on Saturday and...MAN! it just me...or, do all kids' birthdays have to last soooooooo long? - UGH!...I's only Monday.

It's gonna be a tough week, kids!

May the force be with you and keep me from tearing my hair out - or, I'll have to go all Darth Vader on your collective little asses!


Don't make me have to destroy you!

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