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September 2009

Rinse, Spit and Don't Bother Repeating Yourself, I'll Wait!

She spits like a boy!

Look, she spits just like a little brother!

My 3 girls argue, a lot.  Sometimes, it's over really dumb stuff, like, I don't know, this one is copying that one, while the other one is always annoying everyone else (guess which one, go ahead, I'll wait) but, having 3 sisters, who argue, about dumb stuff, all the time, can be awfully hard on a guy.

Still.

At our house, when push comes to shove, it's the teens vs. the tweens and, well, guess who gets to referee?  Go ahead, I'll wait.

NOBODY!

"You are such a loser!"

Not anymore.

"Well, you are a bigger loser!"

Especially, now that they're older.

"Nuh-uh!"

It's a never-ending battle of the, yuh-huh's.

"Yuh-huh!"

See what I mean?

"ENOUGH!"

Still, I'm tired; not getting any younger, either (DAMMIT!) and, well, enough is enough, right?  

"I MEAN, IF I HAD A DOLLAR FOR EACH TIME I WISH I HAD A SISTER!!!"

I mean, I don't really remember the last time I really "talked" to my kids, without hollering, first.

[blank stares]

Honestly, I'm getting really tired of reminding my kids how I don't see my twin brother as often as I'd like and just how lucky they are to, you know, have each other to argue with, since no one ever seems to want to listen to me.

"Mom, what ARE you talking about?"

See?

"Why would you call your sister a loser, like that?"

[blank stares]

"Catch a grip, Mom; I'm just congratulating Heather for losing all that extra weight she picked up since her surgery."

[blank stare]

"Well, I bet you can't spit as far as Hopey can!"

Okay, so I may not be the quietest, most smartest mother in the world.

"Ready...set...go!"

But, I'm certainly not the dumbest.  Guess who won?  Go ahead, I'll wait!

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© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved

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

The Back-to-School Night That Almost Wasn't

Better with age

Earlier this month, on the first day of school, I posted this video on TheMotherhood.com and went on...and on...about how, after having recently earned my 15 year pin (okay, not really, but parenthood ain't all sunshine and rainbows, so they really should give us something, right?) I am JUST NOW learning how to breath.

  • Conference call
  • Doctor's appointment
  • Conference call
  • Field Hockey Game
  • Soccer Practice
  • Back-to-School Night #3

Yeah, well, I lied.  

[heavy sigh]

I also remember saying something about, "not being a big fan of back-to-school nights" and how, you know, I just don't like doing them anymore.

"Are we going tonight, Momma?"

Then, I remembered something else.

"Yep, as soon as Daddy gets here."

My oldest kid is a sophomore in high school.

"Then, we can go."

But, I missed her freshman orientation and, well, my parents never met any of my high school teachers, or were ever really able to play an active role in our community (with both of them working full-time and part-time jobs, I don't blame them) so, I went.

"Are you ready, Momma?"

As ready as I'll ever be, after:

  • Dropping Holly and Hope at Glen's soccer practice
  • Loaning coach Glen's social studies book (sucks to be his son, right now)
  • Picking up Heather from field hockey
  • Meeting my husband back at Glen's soccer practice
  • Dropping Hope and Heather off at home

Then a quick potty stop...for me...of course.

"You used to be a lot more Zen!"

I hate it when other mothers remember stuff, like that.

"What happened?"

It's true.  I used to be real cool and calm about stuff, when my kids were little(er), while other mothers were all, like, ACK, but snow days and television ARE the devil!!!

Holly pretended not to know me, but it didn't work.

"Hi, I'm Holly's mom!"

See?

"Yes, well, you walked in with her, so...."

Yes, I took her with me.  Hello?  4 kids in 4 different schools.  16 teachers between them.  Lucky if I remember my kids' names.  Still.  It was sort of fun to sit next to her and make fun of...I mean...get to know the other parents and stuff.

"You are such a child!"

See?

We got to sit all of 10 minutes, before it was time to head over to...uh...I think it was Biology...maybe, English...I forget.

"Which one is yours?"

But, I wanted to check out the biographies posted on the back wall and found Holly's, right away.  It was easy -- she loves to draw anime.

  • Favorite Sports:  None
  • Favorite Athelete:  None
  • Favorite Outdoor Activity:  None

Oh, and Holly hates sports and the kid who would love to live in the city.

Thank goodness, seeing as 3 outta 4 of my kids like sports and, well, I needed someone to stay home, or at least pretend like staying home is, you know, a good thing, too.

Then, I saw this:

  • My Hero:  Mom

Aaaand, well, you know, I am just really, really glad I went.

"I'm hungry!"

Besides, once your kids get older, perhaps one day you will also begin to believe that back-to-school night isn't really all that bad, after all.

"Wanna get McDonald's?"

It's sort of like date night, with kids, only a whole lot cheaper and without all the busted plumbing.

"Sure, after I call your grandparents, before they go to bed, to tell them Heather won't need anymore butt surgery!!!"

Aren't you glad I didn't take Twitter?

Liz@thisfullhouse signature

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved

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

Wednesday's Child

Wednesday's child

"I made the team!"

Most parents would be very excited, perhaps even a little relieved, to see their child commit themselves to the rigorous mental and physical demands of competitive sports and, ultimately, make it through to the final cut.

[blank stare]

"Did you hear what I said?"

I am not one of those parents.

"Oh yeah, yeah, I'm just, like, wow!"

See what I mean?

"Congratulations, sweetie!"

Of course, I'm happy for her.  Like her younger siblings, she's played recreational soccer up until the 6th grade.  However, rather than going pro (heh) and playing for the middle school, like most of her friends did, Heather had a hard time finding a comfortable place.

"Did you get a chance to speak to your coach about, you know?"

Then, she got sick and, well, being able to sit comfortably, in class, or excusing yourself, dozens of times during the day, without question, or embarrassment was a blessing.

"Yeah, she's totally cool with it."

I thought about writing a note, explaining the situation to her coach.  Even dialed her coach's number, before hanging up and finally deciding that this is perhaps one of those times when life should just be allowed to run its course.

"Are you okay with it?"

Honestly, um, no.  Quite frankly, I am scared to death that my child is going to land flat on her ass and, you know, this time, not be able to get up.

"Oh yeah, yeah, I mean, the surgeon said it was, like, okay."

She played her first game, yesterday.  They won.  6-0.  I survived it.  Barely.  Still.  I'm not looking forward to Thursday for two reasons:

  1. She has an appointment with the surgeon to see if her condition (for lack of a better word) requires more surgery.
  2. They play the meanest, nastiest field hockey team, ever.

For now, I'm keeping up appearances, like there's absolutely nothing wrong with her playing field hockey, or my suggesting that perhaps it would be a good idea if she wore the protective gear, for the rest of her life, thankyouverymuch.

Later.

"Can I dye my hair red?"

She is the only one of my kids [knocking on wood until knuckles bleed] to have gone through surgery, twice and, as much as I feel awful saying it, it couldn't happen to a tougher child.

"And then could you, you know, dip my ends in black?"

After all, she was born on a Wednesday.

Liz@thisfullhouse signature

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved

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

Cloudy With a Chance of Niagara Falls

Le ToiletThis is what it looks like, when your toilet needs a root canal!

I was 5 months pregnant when we moved into our house and, almost 16 years later, my husband Garth [not his real name] and I still lovingly refer to it as, "our starter home."

"Why don't you just sell it, as is, and move over here?"

My MIL was just being nice.  Really, she was.  I mean, after all, I've had terrible luck with appliances and our water heater blew up, just last week, which resulted in  a mad dash to grandma's for a quick shower...or 6. 

Still, I doubt that my FIL is ready to give up the "no waiting" bathroom rule at his house, not just yet, if ever.

"OH SH*T!"

The last time I heard my husband holler like that, well, the water heater blew up and I was all, like, SHUTUP!

"[cough]...Toilet...[wheeze]...water...[gasp]...broken...[cough]"

No, you can't break toilet water -- though, in this house, you really never can tell -- but, my poor husband had just gotten home from taking himself, along with my two oldest girls, to the doctor's office and finished sending me this text:

"Heather has strep, I've got bronchitis, waiting on Holly's culture..."

To which I promptly texted back:

"Holy Sh*t!"

Honestly, I felt bad for Garth [not his real name] I really did.  Still.  Having spent the last 6 days with him...home...sick...then, the kids getting sick (again!) well, I just knew it wouldn't be long.

"We're closing in 15 minutes."

I tried to explain to the nice girl manning (or, femaling?) the doctor's office that I had this really important trip coming up, that requires me to be away from home, for a couple of days, alone, without having to pack any soccer cleats, or field hockey sticks, not to mention, making multiple trips to the hardware store, or supermarket, while escorting a bunch of rowdy kids, or a couple of moody teenagers, not to mention, hovering over a cranky husband, while he tries to fix something, AGAIN and, well, MY THROAT HURTS DAMMIT!!!

"Okay, Mrs. Thompson, your culture came back negative."

[eyes go wide]

"Er, given the circumstances at home, I'm going to write out a script, anyway."

No, I would never advocate the overuse of antibiotics.  However, this is my house, not yours and well, something's gotta give, sometime.

This week, it's the toilet.

"Oh, and your blood pressure is higher than usual."

Aaaaand, I hear that the west coast is really beautiful this time of year -- but, I really don't care -- given the circumstances here, at home, I'll be happy just to be able to get away and NOT worry about taking my sweet time in the shower, or use a toilet that works!

Liz@thisfullhouse signature

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved

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

Suffering From a Bad Case of Mommyblogger Reflux

Yesterday, I had the extreme pleasure of attending PR University's audio conference "Pitching Mommy Bloggers" as a panelist, along with Liz, Christine and Renee (yeah, don't know how that happened either) and was pretty excited about it.

Until, I read Bad, Bad, Mommy Blogger Redux (written by fellow panelist Stephanie Azzarone) and, well, if you are a mom (like me) who happens to blog (no matter the reason) Stephanie is one of many public relations professionals, attempting to reach out to a community, filled with millions of diverse and colorful voices, along with about a billion misperceptions and contradictions enough to choke even the most experienced rocket scientist into smashing his slide rule against the wall, just to see if it would stick.

The only difference is, Stephanie is a mom and, well, she knows that, in my house, everything IS pretty much sticky, already and I'm okay with that.

Being called out as "review slinging money grubbers whose only concerns are freebies and paid for positive reviews of products," not so much!

Continue reading "Suffering From a Bad Case of Mommyblogger Reflux" »

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

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Suburban Sprawl, It's What's for Supper!

Hope and deer at playground

Guess who's coming to soccer practice?

So, there was this deer, that crashed through one of our schools' windows, a few years ago

Well, they're baaaaa-aaaaack and lookin' a little, like, I dunno, dinner, maybe?

What?  It's not like I would go out and intentionally hurt one, or that my kids would even eat deer.

Unless, it just happened to climb into my car, by accident and I told 'em it was, you know, chicken.

Yes, I hate food shopping THAT MUCH!!!

Check out the Official Wordless Wednesday HQ
Tag, you're it:   

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© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved

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

In Our House, Safety First Usually Happens the Fourth Time Around

Safety patrol hopey

My youngest daughter (she's 8) is tired of being last. How do I know?

"It's...[sniff]...real hard...[hiccup]...to be...[snort]...the youngest...[sniff]...all the time!" 

Because, she told me, just the other day.

"I know, sweetie."

I grew up in a generation where parents thought it would be a real good idea to, you know, start talking to their kids about stuff, while mine were, well, still learning English.  

"But, it's not easy being grown up, either."

Besides, their parents never talked to them about stuff, and their grandparents never talked to their parents, and so on, and so on... 

"Besides, you are a safety!" 

What? I never said I was good at it.  Talking to my kids, I mean.  Besides, she was wearing her safety patrol belt. I saw it. It triggered something in my brain:

a) They didn't have safety patrols when my oldest girls were in elementary school.  
b) How upset my son was, when he didn't get picked. 

YES...that's it...this would be Hope's claim to fame! 

"Aaaand, well, your sisters and brother didn't get picked." 

But, in my head, all I could hear was a much younger, not to mention, more tired and less grayish, inner-voice saying how this, too, was a bad thing to say and this line of reasoning will, no doubt, one day, come back and bite me in the butt, too!

[sniff]

"Yeah, aaaand I didn't pretend to lose my belt, like some kids did, so I could get a cool new orange one, either!"

[sound of crickets chirping]

"Um...yeah."

What?  She's got a yellow belt.  Apparently, orange is way cooler.  Aaaand, it's not like she actually went through with it, right?

"Because, being a safety means I'm responsible, right!"

Aaaand, in this house, seeing as I'm her mother, that IS a good thing. 

"Right!" 

Even now, after years of trying to raise my kids, to be kind and respectfully towards each other, I can't help but think that there aren't enough good feelings in the world, to keep any one of them from believing that, eventually, someone got more [insert tangible, or intangible item here] than they did.

"I told Mrs. So-and-So that I am the first safety in the house!"

Then, I looked at the clock.

"Just tell Mrs. So-and-So that Mommy made you late, again."

What?  She's a mother AND she knows me. 

"She'll believe you." 

Besides, it was the best I could do, without at least my second cup of coffee, I mean, right?

Liz@thisfullhouse signature 

© 2009 This Full House - All Rights Reserved.

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