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February 2007
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March 2007

Hump Day Diddy Dumbs: Perplexed in the City

As many of you may already know - especially, those of you who know me in real life, but like - I am NOT the best traveler in the blogosphere.

No, I don't mean surfing your blogs - that would fall under the category of "things mommy actually LIKES to do" - and I don't mean in real life, either.

Put me in a car, strap the kids down with a few snacks, turn on the radio, pop in a piece of bubble gum (sugarless, of course) and I'm good to go.

Planes and trains - not so much.

"Um...okay, if I have to be in the city by 11:00 a.m....and the train leaves the station at 9:30 a.m....and arrives at 10:30 a.m...wait...uh...if the train leaves the station..."

No, I don't have a problem with doing the math - as long as it's simple and doesn't go above a fifth grade level, maybe - in fact, over-thinking a simple trip, by myself (yes, I said traveling without the kids) less than a few hours away, to the point of total loss of intelligibility, is one of the things I do best.

Because you just don't know what could happen!

Unless, you've gone anywhere with me - right, Kate! - well, then you perhaps don't really know how truly spazzed-out a misadventure can be.

"Ticket please."

[snapping gum]

" train goes straight to the city...right?"




"I mean, no stops?"




"No changing trains."




"Any chance you may be on the wrong train?"




" far, so good."

[places ticket into holder thingy]

"First time traveling into the city?"

[stops chewing]


I meant to ask the nice conductor one more question, but...well, you know...he did have other passengers to take care of.

Actually - as crowded and, you know, stinky as trains can get - what I thought could be the worst part of the trip turned out to be very relaxing.  We passed the station near the house where I was born, another where I grew up, where my husband kissed me for the first time and the one near the exit running beside our first apartment.

Hey, I live in Jersey...remember?

"Pssst...hey hand?"

Oh my Dog!

"I'm so sorry...I was just, you've got very soft hands...uh...for a guy."


Two minutes into the city, by myself, and I'm already being accused of making an indecent proposal

No matter, he got off...THAT IS...I meant to say...we DISEMBARKED without further incident and I found my way to the exit, where they told me to go, because I had it written down, once on paper, and on the palm of my right hand, and only then did I realize...holy crap...I forgot my gloves!

Did I mention it was 10 degrees - that's almost single digits, people!

No matter, they said a car would be waiting...brrrr...just around...holy crap, is friggin' freezing...around the corner...nope...not mine...nuh-uh...not that one...hey, mister...put a friggin' name tag're not waiting for crap!

After fifteen minutes - about the time Bill Evans says my hands would freeze and, you know, fall off - I finally figured out that there was no car waiting for my frozen ass, clearly ready to fall off.

"'s Liz...oh...uh, you know...we spoke, yesterday...oh, yes...well, that's because my face is frozen and I can't feel my lips...anyway, the cars not, I'm waiting outside the's really, really cold out...oh...okay, I'll go inside...thanks."


Who knew there was, like, a big difference in distance, between 7th and 8th Avenue?


" bame biz, Biz...I bink boo bar bare bore be?"

That's Tella-frozen-Tubby talk for open up,'s frickin' freezing out here!

"I'm sorry, Ma'am...but, I'm waiting for a customer."

I could move my scarf away from my face - if it weren't already frozen to my lip gloss - and it would have probably helped to have, you know, the confirmation, still sitting on my kitchen table.

"Bat's bee...bore bating, bore beeeee!"

[rolls up window]

Phone rings, his eyes go wide, he opens door and I dived into the backseat of his car!

"Oh...I am soooo sorry."

[shaking head]

" bault!"

The poor guy couldn't stop saying how sorry he was and asked if there was anything he could do to help make me feel better.

"Beat me up, baby!"


I meant heat...heat me, put the heater on full blast...but, you know...I was so cold...and my lips were still a little...oh, forget it.

At least, I made it on time and he was nice enough to talk to me the whole ride, because...well, he had to, considering all the construction and the huge traffic jam that seemed to have caused other people to be late.

Having read about my latest misadventure, now you know.

My husband was very glad to be able to stay home and take care of the kids and a little proud of the fact that he did NOT have to, you know, sit next to me and hold my hand, unlike some Daddy-types, who did - sit next to me, I mean.

Because, I am a magnet for misfortune - hear me hummmmmmm!

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

Because I’m older, wiser and probably have way more stretch marks than you, too!

I'm not one for giving parenting advice - not being able to follow simple instructions and accused of being less than cooperative, myself ownself - but, sometimes I find myself in the position of having to either agree, disagree or strongly suggest that a person teach their child to use phones, properly!

[phone rings]

"Is Thing One there?"


[clearing throat]

" Thing One, there?"

"Hello, can you hear me?"

"Yes...but, who am I speaking to?"

[hestating even more]
"Um...oh...this is So-and-So."



[heavy sigh]
"Oh, I get Thing One's Mom...this is So-and-So...may I pleeeeze speak with Thing One?!?!"

[even heavier sigh]
"No, I'm sorry...Thing One is sick and can't come to the phone, right now - perhaps you can try again, tomorrow?"



It's Monday, the kids and I were all sick this weekend and she should feel damned lucky I answered the phone in the first place, trust me - feeling and looking as I do, right now - you'll thank me, later!

Next week: Teaching your kids the fine art of puking in the toilet and other random crap from a mommy on the edge of jumping the couch!

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

Yet another testimony to the power of being able to make children cheer and grown men cry!

My father is going back into the hospital - since, my mom is feeling better and it's his turn, anyway...dammit! - and though this round of surgery is not life threatening, I do believe that this time, his going under the knife (for the 10th time in three years) will undoubtedly prove to be my family's undoing!

"Hi, Sweetie..."

"...just wanted to let you know..."

"...your father and I are home."

" everything okay?"


"Oh, that...yes, your father's just trying to take his [blankety-blank] jacket off..."

[muffled voice]

"Ugh...I hope they fix him, soon...because his [blankety-blank] pain is killing me!

[heavy sigh]
"I'm sorry, Sweetie...did you say something?"

"Nope, see you you...buh-bye!"


Typically, I would have stayed on the line and offered my mother a few comforting words - like, "Don't worry," and "You'll be fine!" - but, these days - what, with my mother's new knees and my father's dead arm - I'm lucky if I get a word in above all the hissing, spitting and cursing.

"Um...okay, love you...buh-bye!"


On the one hand, I think it's natural for my parents to feel frustrated with the physical pain they've each had to go through for the past...well, feels like forever to them, I'm sure.  On the other hand...holy cats! my kids have to see their grandparents scratch each others eyes out...every Sunday!?!

[shielding them from all the spit]

"I know you are having a tough time - just take a look at all the zits on my chin - really, I do.

This is where I usually start to lose it - because I am A WIMPY-ASSED CRY-BABY!
"But...[snort]...that's no reason...[snarf] hurt each other!"

And then my father starts to cry.
"Don't you know...[snarf] much it hurts me, too...[snort]...already!?!"

And then my mother starts to cry.


"I just love these family-get-togethers; don't you!?!"

Now, we're all laughing (and crying) and blowing snot like it was 1999 - I can't quite remember what happened, then, but I'm pretty sure someone was getting something repaired, rebuilt or replaced.
"Ummmm...why are guys crying?"

[eyes go wide]

Oh, [blankety-blank] the kids!

"Uh, we're not crying."

"Yes, you are...[snarf]...and...[snort]'s making me sad!"

And then the rest of my kids...oh, you know.

On the one hand, I think it's okay for my kids to see that grown ups can be sad, frustrated, angry...well, everything they feel about us, pretty much, and on a regular basis.  On the other hand, holy catharsis...I can't help but wonder, you know, do they really have to see...this...much...snot!?!

"Don't worry...we're fine...the sad is gone...these ARE happy tears!"

[blank stare]
"Who's ready for soup?!?!"


And then my father does some funny gestures with is dead arm, makes the kids laugh and they charge into my mother's kitchen to eat everything...they do NOT eat at home.

"Mmmm...I wuv mama's da neck!"

So, what are you doing this Sunday? 



This is where I would typically think, TGIF.

"Have a terrific weekend!"

But, you're welcome to hang around - just a little longer - and tell me that everything is going to be, you know, okay.

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