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September 2010

If You Give a 14 Year-Old PlayDoh


Nope, you are NEVER too old for PlayDoh! 

BONUS points if you can, uh, guess which 14 yo is, you know, mine?


Check out the Official Wordless Wednesday HQ

Wordless Wednesday on 5 Minutes for Mom

Tag, you're it:  

© 2010 This Full House Blog / This Full House Gone Shopping

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

Home is Where Your Drywall Hangs

We are ALL major Ty Pennington fans (okay, mostly me) so, last night, the kids and I settled in on the couch and watched the premiere episode of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.

The design team surprised the Boys Hope/Girls Hope chapters in Baltimore -- you can watch it here, if you, you know, feel like having your heart squished.

"You crying already, Mom?"

Not even five minutes into the show, man, and I was reaching for the Kleenex.

Then, Ty let the families know that Girls (and Boys) Hope will be getting full four-year college scholarships (including room, books and board) this time, my kids were reaching for the Kleenex and I think a couple of them even started to cry.

"Maybe we should apply to be on the show, Mom!"

Oh, if I had a dollar for each time I wished (out loud) for Ty to come crashing through the drywall, well, it would be nice to actually quit using our a basement.

Never mind, worrying about how in the heck we're sending our kids to college.

"There are A LOT of people who need help more, right Mom?"

Always.  Still.  It WOULD be nice not to explain that, you know, we don't decorate in early drywall...on purpose. 

Then, Ty started interviewing the families.

"We never let my daughter know that we couldn't afford to send her to college."

I grabbed another tissue and cursed myself (in my head) for not thinking and doing the same thing. 

Oh, it's NOT like we're going around saying stuff like:

Heather:  "I want to go to Boston University."
Holly:  "I'd like to go to Italy and study art."
Glen:  "I want to go to Rutgers."
"Me:  Well you can ALL just FUHGHETABOUTIT!"

But, practically speaking:

Me:  "That WOULD be nice, maybe, I dunno, we'll see."

Then, my youngest (she's 9) snuggled in closer.

"Well, I love my home."

[bites lower lip]

"I think our house is perfect for us, right mommy?"


I do now.  And, if I didn't, I certainly would NOT say it (out loud) not anymore.

"You need 'nother tissue, Mom?"

Hang the drywall, stupid economy!

© 2010 This Full House Blog / This Full House Gone Shopping

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

So, This Housewife Answers the Door
(Dude, stop me if you've already heard this one!)

I.M.N. Ass

I know, I know, I said's a bad word...however, rather than get into a debate on whether stay-at-home mom is any better (honestly, I really don't give two bon-bons about labels) say what you want, just, don't call me desperate.

Unless, we're all out of coffee AND milk [shiver] or, the microwave explodes AND takes the toaster with it.

What?  It can happen, trust me.

Aaaaanyway, I work from home...BAH!...there I go again...okay, so, like do working moms stop working, you know, once they get home from work?  

Color me confused (preferably, in a soft and slightly muted tone, like, heather gray) but, I thought we were ALL passed the, I know you are, but what am I, sort of thing.

Until, yesterday.

Continue reading "So, This Housewife Answers the Door
(Dude, stop me if you've already heard this one!)" »

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

Parenting Tip #3,100,188:
Don't Worry, They're Wrong
It Does NOT Get Any Easier!

Yes, but she may NOT fall either!
I worry about my children.  What?  You, too!?!?  Oh, thank goodness, because I thought parents of preschoolers were the only ones allowed to, you know, NOT know what they are doing. 

You see, once I became a parent (i.e. someone's mother, not apparent, like in an easily noticed sort of way)  I was told (by other parents) when my children hit kindergarten (i.e. started school full-time, not hit, like in a smack with a hammer sort of way) that my job was, you know, DONE!

And I believed them.

After all, having raised 4 babies, to toddlerhood (yes, it's a word!) and beyond, it IS hard work (and I mean that in every sense of the word) heck, I've got the eye baggage to prove it.

"Have a GREAT day at school, Sweetie!!!"

[pumps fist into air]


Yes, I actually played that scene, just like that, over and over again (in my head) and when that 1st day of school FINALLY came, well...


...yah, it was pretty much like that.

" what?"

Figuring out what to do with myself was never really an issue (not with ANOTHER kid, at home) until my youngest hit started full-time kindergarten know.

"What are you going to do with your day? "

Et tu, Garth (not his real name?)

Oh, I was very happy and not just because my husband took me to breakfast that fateful morning. 

Right now, those of you who know that Hope is in the 4th grade (I think!) I bet you're wondering, you know, how DO I remember that, right?

Well, I was finding ways in which I can avoid doing the laundry cleaning out my files, when I came across this blog post I wrote waaaaay back in 2006. 

So what, right?

Well, I read the rest of my post (because, well, I am my BIGGEST fan) and this is the part that got me, but good:

"I've got tons of stuff to do...there's a pile of mail on my desk that I need to go through...not to mention laundry...and tons of stuff that don't fit the kids...I need to sift through...before changing over the closets for the fall...and I've got to organize their rooms...better...before I can do that...which reminds me...I've got to get the garage cleaned out...before I can finish renovating the kitchen...and re-finish the dining room...I was hoping to start this past summer...but, not before I finish wallpapering our room...I started...three years ago...oh, crap...but, I'll have finish painting Little Man's room, you okay, Hon?"

Long story, short (you're welcome!) my husband's eyes glazed over and then, well, he went to work.

So, what's my point?

[rolls up sleeves]

Although my writing HAS changed (sort of):

  • there's a pile of mail on my desk I need to go through (it'll be there tomorrow)
  • not to mention laundry (it NEVER ends)
  • 2 of my kids have stuff that don't fit (boys don't care and the girl can borrow stuff from the other 2)
  • closets haven't been changed (good thing, it's gonna be 90 degrees tomorrow)
  • garage isn't cleaned out (because, we're STILL not finished renovating the kitchen)
  • kitchen is STILL not renovated (see above)
  • dining room STILL needs refinishing (because, my room STILL needs wallpaper, the boys room painting... etc...)

Why?  Because, I'm STILL busy worrying about AND still doing OTHER stuff for my kids...dammit!

[crosses arms]

Why am I telling you ALL this?

[rolls eyes]

Okay, so once YOUR kids are in school full-time and folks begin telling YOU that, you know, your job is done...don't worry about it!

[rolls up sleeves]

Just send them my way...I'll fix 'em...REAL good!

[reaches for hammer]

Heck, isn't that what blogging's for?

[sound of crickets chirping]

Well, I feel better; how about you?

© 2010 This Full House Blog / This Full House Gone Shopping

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

Saving Second Base
(A Breast Cancer eCookbook)
Because Nice Matters, Cancer Ssaćs!

Saving second base graphic

Growing up, Barbara and I had a lot in common.  She spoke Polish, I spoke Hungarian (close enough!) we graduated high school in 1982 and, sadly, lost touch since then.

Until...Facebook, when my laptop pinged that another high school buddy wanted to chat.

"Did you hear one of our schoolmates died?"

No, but I was pretty sure that he WAS mistaken.  Had to be.  Because, in my mind, I'm still 18 and, well, we're not THAT old, are we?

Then again, we aren't born with any guarantees (DAMMIT!) or "date of expiration" stamps, either (thank goodness) and, well, my own twin brother gave up a kidney (stupid cancer!) my husband and both my in-laws have faced the knife (literally) to remove squamous cells (nasty stuff) and I recently watched my SIL (my husband's oldest sister) bravely deal with a pretty bad cancer scare, last month, as I held her hand, while folks poked, prodded and generally assaulted her breasts.

So, yeah, like my friend Rachel (a.k.a. A Southern Fairytale) I am PASSIONATE about supporting cancer research and help, wherever, or whenever I can, to raise awareness, like joining her and Once A Month Mom in Saving Second Base!

Continue reading "Saving Second Base
(A Breast Cancer eCookbook)
Because Nice Matters, Cancer Ssaćs!" »

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

Don't Knock Knock It, If you Haven't Washed and Dried It!

Glen's Grand Poetry
Kids.  They WILL say the funniest things and, more often than not, parents ARE their main source of entertainment.

Knock knock.  Who's there?  Repeat.  Repeat who?  Who. Who. Who. Who. Who. Who. Who.

Aaaaand, well, you get it, right?

Knock knock.  Who's there?  Kanga.  Kanga Who?  No.  Kanga ROO!

Oh, we pretend laugh (or, not) and act like, you know, we've never, EVER heard that one, before.

Knock knock.  Who's there?  Cows.  Cows who?  No.  Cows go MOO!

[heavy sigh]

Glen's Pic of TFH Happiness is...your family.  They're the people you love.

Then, they learn how to write and, well, all that pretend laughing you did seems to have paid off.

Until, you turn to the page.

Glen's Xbox Happiness Xbox.

Doesn't matter that in 2006 (when my son wrote this entry into his 1st grade book binding project) we did NOT even have an Xbox.

Glen's Playdates Happiness is...friends.  I like to have play dates with them.

Or, that we don't have any machetes (not in the house, anyway) or, swords [looks closer] okay, but it's a PRETEND light saber!

[heavy sigh]

Either way, a teacher once told me (please, don't ask me which one; we're talking approx. 80 parent teacher conferences, over here):

I'll believe half of what your child tells me about you, if you believe half of what your child says about me.

Until, my son (he's in 6th grade, now) showed me his homework - write a set of directions; it could be how to get to your house, of a recipe, or how to play a video game - and guess which one he picked?  Go ahead.  I'll wait.

This Full House the Game.

This Full House (the game) Directions:  You have my mom and you must walk around picking up clothes to put in the laundry.  While the clock is ticking down you must put more and more clothes in to add on time.  If time runs out you lose!

At least, he got this one right and, well, his penmanship has improved, considerably, don'tcha think?

[sound of crickets chirping]

So, um, anyone heard any good knock knock jokes, lately?

[blows bangs out of eyes]

'Cawse, next week is back-to-school night (4 of them, to be exact) and I got nothin'!

© 2010 This Full House Blog / This Full House Gone Shopping

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

Bringing the Dumb


Would you believe, I was a REAL "Boy, she has it ALL together" type mom?  Once.  YES, I WAS, DAMMIT!   You wouldn't know it now [blows bangs out of eyes] but, I even used to bake my kids homemade birthday cakes.

"That was the doctor's office."

Now, they consider themselves very lucky if I remember their all.

"She says we are WAY over due on our well visits."

I was supposed to take them in August.  It's STILL September, right?


So, I added, "call pediatrician," to the monstrosity that is my to-do list; nevermind, try to find an empty space on the calendar.

What?  Yours, too?

[shakes head]

Aaaand, it's only September, right?

"I left you a note on your laptop."

Now, I have to write stuff on 2 calendars and then punch it into my cell phone, just in case, you know, I forget to look at the calendar.

"And I sent you a text." 

10 years from now, however, my children will undoubtedly remember their mother as being a discombobulated mess.

"Thank you."

What they fail to see, however (along with the wet towels left to ferment along the bathroom hallway) is, in my discombobulatedness (yes, it's a word!) I have played an important role in teaching them good organizational skills.

"Um...where is my cell phone?"

Aaaand, keeping them motivated in practicing those skills.

"It's probably in your car, Mommy."

Probably.  Since, I spend most of the time, sitting in it, or driving it (mostly, sitting) especially, this time of year.

"I left you a note...too...bye...LOVE YOU!"

My 9 year-old, being the youngest of 4, is also advanced proficient in self-preservation and, after almost 10 years (or more, I forget) of fighting our way in and out of carpool lanes (i.e. they ARE the devil) the kid's got the stop, drop and ROLL thing down to a science!

"I love..."

Too late.  She was out of the car and passed the bus lane.  3 seconds more and I could have saved the kid a couple hundred bucks worth of therapy.

"She NEVER could say I love you!" 

[heavy sigh]

Then, I found her note.

Love Note

Aaaand, well, you know.  Yes, my brain is mush.  But, I kind of, sort of, love the fact that my kids leave me little love notes...just like the ones I used to their lunch bags.

Until, I read the second one.

Love Note 2
Apparently, she really, really, really, really, really, really wants to be able to use the gift card...she got for her birthday...way June.

It is STILL September, right?


So, along with the fact that the gift card is good until June of 2012 (thankyouverymuch!) I added a little note of my own.

"I love you too, sweetie and good luck getting your card back!"

[eyes go wide]

What?  So, I'm a discombobulated mess (DAMMIT!) but, I am NOT stoo-pid, you know?

© 2010 This Full House Blog / This Full House Gone Shopping

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