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October 2010

Just Another Idiomatic Friday
(Translates Very Well to Mondays)

You rock, you rule We were all sitting at the dinner table (yes, at the same time, must have been a full moon, or something) don't ask me which day (I forget) when my oldest daughter (she's 16) lamented the fact that my youngest daughter (who is 9) isn't much of a girly girl, anymore.

"My friends think it's cool I'm a tomboy!"

This year.

"Who am I going to dress up and put makeup on?"

On the one hand, the thought of Holly playing with her baby sister, without having to be asked or paid...real very cute.

"But, mommy lets YOU wear makeup!?!?"

On the other hand, idioms tend to annoy me and, well, they just don't make a lick of sense.

[one beat, two beats]


However, it never dawned on me, until now, those funny little Hungarian sayings my grandmother would throw out, every now and again (especially, when my twin brother or I got into trouble) translated pretty well in English, too.

For example:

A szomszéd rétje mindig zöldebb: The neighbor's meadow is always greener (and, well, heck, it's hard not to be a little envious, when all you've got is, you know, grass!)

Bagoly mondja verébnek, hogy nagyfejű: The owl tells the sparrow that it is big-headed (sort of like the pot calling the kettle black, stupid owl!)

Csepp a tengerben: A drop in the sea (Especially, when you don't have a bucket, or your neighbor borrowed it and, you know, misplaced it in the frickin' meadow somewhere.)

Egyik tizenkilenc, másik egy híján húsz: One of them is nineteen, the other one is less than twenty (Either way, equally bad when considering marriage or the price of eggs today!)

Feldobja a bakancsot: Throw the boots up (When kicking the bucket seems futile...see above.)

Hideg zuhanyCold shower (which is pretty much international and doesn't count, unless you are nineteen, or twenty, I think.)

Jobb félni, mint megijedni: Is it better to fear, than to get frightened (Not when you consider discretion is the better part of valor or your kid has a nasty case of the hiccups...for the last hour.)

Könnyebb utolérni a hazugot, mint a sánta kutyát: It is easier to catch a liar than a lame dog (Yes, but it didn't help that my grandmother had very long legs and could run pretty gosh-darned fast...too...DAMMIT.)

Mint elefánt a porcelánüzletben: Like an elephant in a china shop (Which is total bullcrap, considering that stuff seemed to break easily, just by my looking at it.  Wait a minute.  D'oh!  Never mind.)

Aaaand, that's just half of the ones I can think of (because, I'm old) considering there are 36 letters in the Hungarian alphabet (you're welcome!) and I just remembered something else.

I can't believe it's been 6 years, since she passed, this month (Happy Anniversary in Heaven, Nagy Mama!) and I am missing my grandmother, more than words can say, right now!

Stupid idioms.

© 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping

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

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Girls
(All Growed-Up)

Holly and Heather Easter 1996
I was cleaning out their closet, the other day (which, admittedly, I don't do very often, because, it's REALLY scary in there) when I came across this picture aaaaand, I had a major heart squeeze, right there, in the middle of the sock basket.

TFH Sisters
Nope, don't know how THAT happened...either...but, it WAS a whole lot quicker than I thought.

Stupid closet!!!

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

In Which I Discuss My Girly Bits in Manly Terms

Giving Men A Dose of Menopause [Source]

I went out to lunch with a mom friend, who also happens to be a pharmacist (don't have one, get one!) and it didn't take long for the conversation to turn all, you know, clinical.

"How about those hormonal replacement therapies, eh?"

I mean, it sort of goes with the territory.  Besides, I'm a mom, she's a mom and you know you're a mom when you can comfortably discuss your entire reproductive system over a cobb salad, right?

"So, you're going forward with the edometrial ablation?"

What?  Oh.  Sorry.  But, it felt SO GREAT to be able to FINALLY talk about this sort of...uh...stuff with someone who understands, or can empathize and not just in clinical terms, either. 

Sort of like blogging. 

There's something really very therapeutic about being able to, literally, write your way into a healthier state of mind, right?


Which is probably the reason why my blog was voted #8 most confessional last year (anti-alpha mom, indeed!) 

Still.  At the risk of sliding into the #1 spot in 2010 (congratulations, Mir!) I'd like to continue discussing the trouble with my girly bits in the most manly way I know how.

In mechanical terms.

[cracks knuckles]


Last 5 Years:

I've been experiencing brief instances of heavy load and sudden acceleration and, for fear of causing any further internal engine damage, I thought it was indeed way passed time for a professional assessment.

2 Weeks Ago:

A brief, superficial inspection under the hood confirmed a breach in the combustion chamber and carbon build up on the outside of the engine wall.

It was determined that additional performance-related diagnostic information was required.

Last Week:

Diagnostics further determined that the engine crankcase was crammed and required pressure relief; the sooner, the better.


However, to be sure that the flame arrester is operable (in case of backfire, we wouldn't want the flame in the intake to spread to the crankcase) they're going to scrape carbon off the pistons for further analysis.


Diagnostics should be available in a couple of weeks, when further assessment will be made as to whether the flame has NOT spread to the crankcase, in which firing the exhaust tip (as scheduled for later next month) should alleviate the problem, or else a complete removal of the crank shaft and/or power wash of the engine is highly recommended.

But, that's between me and my mom mechanic.

[hands over dessert menu]

You're welcome!!!

© 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping

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

Calling Out the Bully

When I was going to school (you know, the days when television reminded parents what time it is and where their children are) there were four ways in which you dealt with bullies.

  1. Run away (real fast)
  2. Stand your ground (get your butt whipped)
  3. Tell a teacher (then run away, real fast)
  4. Don't bother going back to school.

Point being, survival instincts kick in sometime around kindergarten graduation, as the proverbial lines are drawn and the definition of social order rapidly declines to a melee of rumors, innuendos and incoherent speculations.

And that's just the parents!

If I had a dollar for each time my kids (or I) have lost sleep worrying over some new abuse another kid supposedly discovered, well, we would have afforded to go to Disney, at least once, by now.

Yeah, I've seen plenty of lockers pasted with "no bully zone" and "just say no to bullying" stickers on the dozen (or so) back-to-school nights my husband and I have attended, over the years and honestly, I still can't help but think...meh...why bother.

If only it were that easy.

"Well, I got shot today."

Then, my son (he's 11) came home from school yesterday and, well, I had the same exact look on my face that you probably have, right now, trust me.

He pulled his sleeve up, I saw the angry welt (like, maybe someone used a rubber band to fling something sharp, like a paper clip) and I don't remember much after that, really, besides drilling my poor son, like a suspect.

Then, I sat down and wrote my first email to the principal and when I say first, I mean...ever.

Long story, short (you're welcome!) his response, less than 5 minutes later, made me feel better about my decision to NOT worry about sounding like "that mom" (for once) or, whether OTHER parents will think that my kid is a wimp (or, not) and just focus on helping my son, you know, do the right thing.

Call out the bully (in this case, the bullies) make the kid take responsibility for his/her actions (not the parents) and, maybe, just maybe, we can ALL get a little more sleep, for once.

(P.S. My son met with his principal, by himself, today and, although he admits to feeling "sad about telling on someone," more than I am worried about the other kids seeking retribution, I'm glad that the lines of communication are now, you know, open.)

(P.P.S. Being verbally harassed on the bus, daily, is typical 7th and 8th grader shenanigans pulled on incoming 6th graders.  Yeah, I get it.  Don't touch my kid.)

(P.P.P.S. My son's middle school is creating a special number kids can text, when they observe bullying, that goes right to the principal -- what a great idea, right?)

© 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping


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

Wordless Wednesday:

Hopey Corn Maze 2010 No, you are most certainly NOT almost as tall as the corn...DAMMIT?!?

Taken with my cell phone.  Imagine what I could do with a REAL camera?  Yeah, I'm looking at you, Garth (not his real name!)

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

It's the Goodish Pumpkin
Charlie Brown!
(The Un-cut Version!)

TFH Kids Corn Maze 2010Corn, maze, maize, whateverrrrr.

As a mom, celebrating her 16th Halloween (I'm old, I know, shuddup!) I feel it safe to say that, no matter how grown you think your kids are (yes, mine are probably more-oldish than yours) the great pumpkin hunt is ALWAYS an adventure.

Feets Don't Fail Me NowFeets, don't fail me now!

So, yesterday, after hosting a yummy Sunday brunch for a couple of my besties (seriously, you SHOULD be my friend) I asked the kids if they'd like to get their pumpkin hunt in early (i.e. before Halloween!!!)

This year, however, we opted into taking "the scary" hayride (as opposed to "the friendly" and less, you know, scenes from Disturbia version of Halloween celebrations) and, well, I don't expect my 11 year-old son will get a good night sleep, for a while.


Not until after Christmas, anyways.

Tried to get a picture, so I could show my son, later (since, he spent most of the ride with his face buried in my left shoulder) then someone SCREAMED and all I got was my finger!

Honestly, the worse I was expecting was for some dude to jump out in a gorilla suit, maybe a couple of scream experts, a few bloodied teens all hopped up on testosterone, a month's serving of candy corn, or something.


Okay, so the chainsaw-wielding clown AND machette-swinging zombies DID freak us out, a little (alright, A LOT) but, I tried to remember that the ride was supposed to be, you know, scary!

Unlike, some poor girl's parents (I'm guessing she was about my son's age) who went all buh-liss-tick AND I mean in a totally stop-this-ride-I-wanna-go-home sort of way, too!!!


Nah, her parents probably won't get any sleep...either...not for the rest of the year, anyways!

Pumpkin Guts 2010 Pumpkin guts, it's what's for dinner!

A few more minutes, and a WHOLE LOT of convincing that the chainsaw-wielding clown would NOT be waiting around the corner, later in the corn maze (I HOPE!) we picked our pumpkins and went cut them (Jersey style) and then dig their guts out...with a spoon!

Holly's Pumpkin 2010 Holly carved her own pumpkin, this year (sniff!) his name is Pip (via Great Expectations!)

Heather's Pumpkin 2010

As did Heather (sob!) his name is Fester (like the wound, not the Adams Family...ICK!)

Hope's Pumpkin 2010

I helped Hope with hers (YAY!) his name is Professor Zumie (like, the store she wishes I'd let her shop in!)

TFH Pumpkins All in a Row

Ghoulishy, scary, in a cute sort of way, these pumpkins really ARE the best this house has ever seen!

Great Pumpkin 2010
But, wait, there's more (you're welcome!) the family pumpkin!  You know, the one that I get to cut (because, I'm the mom!) His name is Mr. Bill!

What about Glen?  Oh, he finally admitted to having a good-ish time (DAMMIT!) aaaand his pumpkin is up there, sitting right next to mine.

"I christen thee...The Pumpkin Who Shall Not Be Named!"

The un-cut version, of course -- eat that Charlie, Brown!

© 2010 This Full House Blog / TFH Gone Shopping

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

Worming HIS Way Into Motherhood

Having been my children's primary care provider (i.e. Mom) for the last 17 years (I know, I'm old, SHUDDUP!) I look forward to impromptu school holidays, like Columbus Day, when I don't have to cook, clean or do anything special (like, cook or clean) normally associated with celebrating more traditional gift-giving and feasting-type holidays.

I kind of get excited when my husband, Garth (not his real name) happens to have the day off, too!


Working from home does have its disadvantages.

"When is So-and-So and What's Her Name coming over, again?"

We're helping a couple of friends out by sitting their kids, today (what's two more, right?) and by we...of course...I mean, Garth (not his real name!)

"I'm going to make a worm box!"

Aaaaand, I have to be honest, I am feeling a little threatened at the moment.

"Cool, can we help!"

Honestly, a worm box?

Worm box closed

So, I went outside (seeing as I showered, got dressed and everything) to take a look at this fantastical worm box.

Worm box open

Aaaaand, not ONLY is it a fantastical way to get kids outside (so, mommy can get a jump start on a couple of writing projects this week) not to mention, actually convincing them that something low-tech, like digging for worms is, you know, fun (their names are Jeffrey, Skittles and Bob) but, Garth (not his real name) got a chance to demonstrate his multi-tasking skills, by cleaning out my shredder, too.


"Do you need any clean clothes for your trip, tomorrow?"

Aaaand, I'm okay with that AND totally crushing on my husband's feminine!

(Disclosure:  Garth (not his real name) just reminded me that my son and his friend wanted nothing to do with the outdoors and now they are ALL folding socks.)

Boys, however, ARE stewpid!

(Disclosure:  I was able to convince the boys that...yeah...they REALLY would probably rather be outside, too.)

I win!

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

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