Blogtexting, Unfiltered

I've never tried blogging from my phone, because texting is difficult enough -- stupid manfingers. Still. I spent the first half of the day taking the Christmas tree down (it's gloomy-rainy out, so why not?) and the rest of the day doing laundry, because in this house, the overflow is never ending.

My couch is holding me hostage. Even after my insisting...NOOOOOOOO....I have to go and blog, couch!!!...and then my phone was all...psssssst, why don't you try blogtexting?

So, here I sit. Blogtexting on a Saturday night - don't be jealous!

Of course the paragraphs look a lot bigger on my phone than they actually are, probably.

The real trick now is figuring out how to insert an image into this blog post, from my phone...please feel free to grab a warm beverage and a quick snack, while I figure it out...BRB!

[cue some sort of bloggity-type muzak]

Okay, I'm back. Soooo, it seems I cannot insert photos from my phone...easily...but I feel bad, because a blog post about absolutely nothing should (at the very least) have a pretty picture to go with it, or something.

Hang on a second, BRB!

Day 3 Prettiful Skies
Thompson Park (Lincroft, NJ) at dusk, no filter...because my middle girl was NOT even think about using a filter for that shot...she's very, very anti-filter and I'mma little skeered of her.

Sorry about that! It took me a little longer to get offa the couch and over to my laptop...and then log into my that I could insert that image up there...without wanting to bitch-slap my cell phone for enticing me enough to actually believe I can textblog...from the couch...because I love you THAT much!

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Aaaaaaaand, now it seems I've lost my place on the couch.

Doofus Unfiltered
Doofus-dawg, also unfiltered...

Stupid blogtexting, dumbass short couch.

©2003 -2015 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything! Also, I'm attempting to blog EVERY DAY in 2015, I hope it lasts! #TFH365

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

James and The Chocolate Advent Calendar

It's the holidays, again -- or the holidaze, as we call it at our house. It hit 70+ degrees, yesterday...and the Weather Channel dudes promised 60's, today...then we're supposed to get hit with a snow storm, tomorrow...and WELCOME TO JERSEY!

I even saw a couple of gnats flying around, all confused and stuff, until I squashed them against the kitchen window...because gnats are gnasty.

[sound of crickets, gasping for breath]

Aaaaaanyway, for the holidaze to have officially arrived at our house, at least one of three things has probably happened.

  1. A major appliance has died or is very nearly dead.
  2. Someone in our immediate family is dealing with a medical emergency.
  3. One of the vehicles is in need of a major repair.

And by Thursday, we hit two out of three: the water heater broke; Doofus-dawg got REAL sick and we had to rush him to the animal hospital on Saturday.

Aaaaaand, YES!!! We consider our pets as immediate members of our family, because fur babies are people, too.

[the sound of crickets, exploding]

Long story, short: the hits just keep coming, it's been a loooooooong and stress-filled week/month/year, you guys.

There IS some good, here: our Doofus-dawg pulled through and is on his way to a full recovery, just in time for "Are you going to eat ALL that Turkey?" Day.

[knocking on wood, until knuckles bleed]

Okay, that's some REAL GOOD news...right there!

"Hey mom, it's me."

Aaaaaand, then...after spending last weekend with oldest called home, very early (i.e. before I had a chance to finish my first cup of coffee) yesterday morning.

"My car broke down."

Without going into too much detail (you're welcome!) this, my friends, is a fine example of THE WORST possible timing, at it's best.


My two oldest girls carpool, together. My oldest is in-between jobs, at the moment. Both of our cars have hit 100,000+ miles. For reasons too looooooong and booooooooring to go into, something in my brain broke. I was just two gray cells shy of having a total mental breakdown.

"Call your father!"

Because I'm an awesome mom, like that.

2 cups of coffee later, I dropped my middle girl off at work and, although I was much calmer than when we first left the house (I blame it on my broken brain), my thoughts grew very dark.

Why this? Why now? Why us? And, more importantly, how in the heck was I going to get 2 other people to work, with 1 working car between us?

I pulled a u-ey (or a u-turn, if you're not from Jersey) and decided to make a quick stop at Michaels, because suckage like this calls for some serious yarn-therapy...YO!

Yarn therapy

There were three skeins of the oatmeal-colored yarn I needed...yes, I NEEEEEEDED THEM!!!...and thank goodness, because I was already running dangerously low on gray cells...but I only grabbed two as not to deny anyone else some yarn-therapy...and welcome to my brain!

"Hold onto the calendar TIGHT, Jimmy."

I stood in line behind a woman with three little kids, I'm guessing all under the age of double-digit-back-talk, the youngest sitting in a stroller and holding an advent calendar.


"There's chocolate in here!"

[a little louder]

"The kind you eat!"

I looked down and realized that the little boy was actually talking to me.


Pro-Tip: Little kids aren't very good at understanding when an adult isn't in the mood for conversation, just so you know.

"Every day, we get to eat one piece!"

This time, I just nodded my head, because I'm awesome with little kids, like that.

" sisters...even my dad..."

A grin broke out all over his face and I began to feel this funny sort of fuzzy warm start to wash over my body.

" mean, you share chocolate with your dad, too?!?!"

He smiled, nodded his head and continued to poke at the calendar.

"Uh-huh...aaaaaand...he gets to open the FIRST window!"

Aaaaaand then it hit a trunk-load of unfinished baby books, upside the head...the longing for the days when a quick trip to Michaels and a simple little chocolate advent calendar could bring a smile to our faces, like that.

"We get one of these, all the times!"

Funny thing is, so do we...ALL the fact, arguing over who opened the first (or last) window has become a sort of family tradition, every December 1st.

Along with putting their shoes out on St. Nicholas Day, every December 6th!

Something in my brain began to heal. I was once again reminded of the little things that make this frazzled, wigged-out and very tired mama's heart...happy.

"Wow, it's so nice of you to let your dad open the first one!"

And then the suckage didn't seem all that bad, really. Nothing that we can't live (or haven't lived) through, before.

"Yeah, I know. His name is James, just like mine!"

Nothing that a chocolate advent calendar couldn't remedy, I mean.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you...James!"

I smiled all the way back to my way car, I even made eye contact with folks (some of them, smiling back), because I just got a pre-schooler. And thank you for the reminder, little James.

©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything!  

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

We make Mondays look good!

Flash-back to every Friday afternoon, 1982-1993: my co-workers and I would lock our desks, forward our phones over to the answering service, just about race each other to our cars and then peel out of the parking, because FRIDAY!

Flash-forward, today: I still pretty much get that same AWESOME feeling, peeling out of my bra and racing my husband to the couch, because freeeeeeeeee-duuuuuuuuum...THE BRA IS OFF!!!

Weekends, on the other hand, can get a little dicey around here, especially living in the house that #FUBAR built. Let's review, shall we?!?

Saturday morning: 

  • the dishwasher started making a funny noise
  • so my son calls me over to "come here" and "listen"
  • I bend down to "listen"
  • and then it threw up on my head
  • before pooping all over the kitchen floor
  • the dishwasher, not my son
  • but you probably already knew that
  • then again, in this house, you NEVER know

Saturday afternoon:

  • a blood vessel in Doofus-Dawg's ear broke
  • which caused the flap to fill up with blood
  • making it look sort of like an empanada (de nada!)
  • which will require weekly draining
  • and take about a month to heal
  • which means 3 more trips back to the vet
  • good thing we don't have any summer vacation plans
  • the vet, on the other hand, is all like VEGAS BABY

Sunday morning:

  • the washing machine broke
  • actually, it WAS broken for a while
  • we just got used to running it on the spin cycle, at least twice
  • this time, it would not drain any water
  • which called for immediate action
  • because we are now WEEKS behind on our laundry
  • so my husband hit up You Tube
  • because we spent our allowance at the vet
  • but he got the washing machine apart alright
  • turns out the pump was REAL backed up
  • I know how it feels
  • and then ANOTHER quick trip to Home Depot
  • because they make it REAL hard for you to put stuff back together
  • without the "right tools" carried by a licensed repairman
  • the dude at Home Depot knew EXACTLY what we needed
  • apparently, we weren't the only ones with a constipated washing machine
  • and empty wallets
  • all it needed was an enema
  • the washing machine, not our wallets
  • because everytime an appliance poops
  • or our Doofus-Dawg shakes his head
  • we bleeeeeeeed money, dammit
  • you're welcome

"What we spent at the vet, I just saved us on a repairman!"

Aaaaaand, I would have totally kissed my husband, Garth (not his real name) wet on the mouth, if it weren't for the fact that:

a) he's been sick for a week

b) most likely has Lyme's disease

c) I had a 100+ fever, at the time

d) all of the above

If you answered d)...CONGRATULATIONS!!!...yet ANOTHER reason why you should be very glad you do NOT have to live with us, you're welcome!

"Dammit, NOW what's wrong with the dishwasher?!?"

[one beat, two beats]

Okay, so I didn't tell my husband about the dishwasher, because:

  • he would have figured it out, sooner or later
  • because the poor guy actually HAS to live here
  • and I really needed him to focus on the washing machine

But...shhhhhhhh!!!...don't tell him, okay?!?

Doofus-Dawg broke again
what?!? i make tiger stripes look good!!!

Stupid weekends, dumbass constipated household appliances.

©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything!   

 I'm NaBloPoMo-ing it this month, feel free to check out what I've NaBloPoMo-ed, so far. Oh and just so you know, I'm unplugging on weekends and going blog free, because family time is also very...SQUIRREL!!!

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

And now we're Doofus-dawg-proofing the couch.

I was pregnant with our oldest when we moved into our house...what we then referred to as our starter home...on Memorial Day weekend...21 years ago. Okay, so we're really sloooooooooooow starters.

Although my husband and I still dream about not having to share a closet (smaller than some other people's pantries) or my waking up in the middle of the night and having to go to the bathroom, all...the...way...downstairs...across the kitchen...through the living room...and waaaaay on the other side of the house...[taking a moment to catch my breath...phew...thanks!]'s more than what a lot of other people have and, well, we've always managed to sort of make stuff work. 

It's also a lot easier now, in the sense that our kids are mostly-grown and have all pretty much child-proofed themselves, by now.

Then our poor old Doofus-dawg goes and hurts himself, by fracturing a bone in his foot which had to be splinted in order for it to heal properly, so the vet sent us home with very strict instructions:


No problem, I mean, seeing as he spends most of his days dosing on the couch, right?!?


R'uh-oh. Seriously?!? The definition of a dog's life includes jumping on the furniture -- especially, when you're NOT looking -- and, for as big as he is, our Doofus-dawg is especially proficient in sneaking up right next to you, without you even knowing it, until it's too late.

Doofus-proofing the couch.
yes, we ARE martha stewart's worst nightmare.

So, once again, we've managed to make it work: using laundry baskets to Doofus-proof the furniture.

Doofus-proofing the chairs.
and this is where we do our best edith and archie bunker, yo!

Aaaaand, although I didn't think we would have to worry about the recliners (they rock, literally!), Doofus-dawg did in fact try and get up on the recliners, too. The cone of shame is a reminder to quit chewing and it also seems to be working.

Still, night time is proving to be difficult. Doofus is used to sleeping upstairs with us, so my husband has been sleeping downstairs with Doofus (yeah, I know, it's going to be a looooong 4 weeks), but I didn't think he'd appreciate my posting a picture of the super-ingenious way he's managed to keep Doofus off the couch.

Soooo, my oldest daughter and I re-created it for you:

There's a dork on the couch!
this is me, pretending to be my husband, doofus-proofing the couch.

Aaaaaaaand, this is the part where you begin to feel really, really good about yourself AND pretty gosh-darned happy that you do NOT have to live with me. You're welcome! 

©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything!   

I'm NaBloPoMo-ing it, feel free to check out what I've NaBloPoMo-ed, thus far (PHEW!) and let me know how I'm doing (I mean, 30 posts, in 30 days, really?!?) when you have time, of course!

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

Will sit, or pretty much whatever else it is you want him to do, for treats.

Although we are not sure how old he is...exactly...the vet at the animal shelter, where we adopted our Doofus-Dawg in 2004, figured him to be about a year old, at the time. Either way, he's well past earning his senior citizen's dog years.

The perks of his reaching retirement age for a mostly lab are many, but more importantly: we don't chase him off of the couch. In fact, I've grown accustomed to simply covering the furniture with a couple of blankets or twenty.

The other day, he got caught up in one of those blankets when attempting to jump off of the couch and hurt his foot, but it's not unusual for him to get a "zinger" because of his arthritis, so I gave him half of a baby aspirin to help ease the ouch.

Doofus gots an ouchie!
slept right through breakfast, poor old man.

Yesterday, he started limping. This morning, he couldn't walk at all.

My husband, Garth (not his real name) took the day off to help me get Doofus to the vet, figuring that my borked-up back would keep me from being able to lift him in and out of the car and my son is also home sick since Monday, because OF COURSE!

Aaaaaand, our middle girl is still in apprenticeship, so I may or may not need an extra driver to pick her up, as well.

But NOT because Doofus does not like going to the vet. On the contrary, he LOVES going to the vet, because they give him treats.

"Sit down, that's a good boy!"


"Up on the scale, that's a good boy!"


"Let's take a look at what's going on, that's a good boy!"

I'm pretty sure that, to Doofus-dawg, the treats are neverending at the vet and it's like all he has to do is sit, to be treated to a treat, but NOT today.

Doofus Dawg is waiting for his treat!
doofus is all like"hey, i'm sitting ova heh, where's my treat?"

The poor dog was panting with exertion, working it SO HARD trying to look all cute and everything, but treat...because Doofus' x-rays showed a small fracture in his foot and the vet said she may need to sedate the old guy in order to get the splint on correctly.

It could take a couple of hours.

It was SO HARD to leave Doofus-dawg behind, but we knew that he is in good hands and, well, he didn't seem to mind hanging out with the vet for a few more hours, because there may or may not be treats involved.

Long story, short: he's going to be hobbling around for a couple of weeks and, hopefully, we'll get back some better news on some other stuff the vet wants to rule out

Having a sick kid home from school stinks, but taking care of a sick pet is a whole different level of cruddy and, well, it makes my heart squish.

Either way...fear not, Doofus-dawg...mommy's got a super-special surprise for you and it may or may not involve bacon...because BACON!

©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything!   

I'm NaBloPoMo-ing it, feel free to check out what I've NaBloPoMo-ed, thus far (PHEW!) and let me know how I'm doing (I mean, 30 posts, in 30 days, really?!?) when you have time, of course!

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

BEWARE: Guard Dog on Laundry Duty!

Backstory:  I first Instagrammed a picture of our Doofus-Dawg sleeping...sorry, I mean...PROTECTING the laundry, because someone's GOT to guard it from the danged squirrels.

BEWARE Guard Dog on Laundry!

My office also happens to pull double-duty as the laundry room and, upon occasion, Garth's (not his real name) mancave and, yeah, it's not called This Full House for nothing!

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Aaaaanyway, it's sort of hard to work with a 90 lb. Doofus-Dawg snoring behind me and I was all, he could EVEN sleep through ALL the bird chatter and squirrel-squealing going on behind "him".

Here, let me show you:

Stupid birds; dumbass squirrels; friggin' laundry.

©2003 - 2013 This Full House

With a fan page on Facebook and everything! 

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

Tell Us Which City's Shelter Dogs to Feed Next

Doofus in the pillows
PEDIGREE CTNC Blog Post: This post is sponsored by PEDIGREE Brand, which compensated me to develop this content and reader giveaway.

I wanted to share a quick update with you on the special feeding project I've been working on with Pedigree and Miranda Lambert (love her)!

With your help, Pedigree has received more than 14,000 nominations, from all over the country, for their Choose the Next Communities program:  a new initiative to feed more shelter dogs while they wait adoption.

The top five finalists are in and now we get to tell Pedigree which city's shelter dogs to feed next.  I am also excited to be able to share a special gift basket with one of you and your bdf:  best dogfriend forever.

First, the top five community shelters include:

Continue reading "Tell Us Which City's Shelter Dogs to Feed Next" »

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