Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Full House. I wish I did. I also don't own Disneyland (you'll see why I put this later). I really wish I did.

A/N: This is my second fanfic. To warn you ahead of time, I did make up the whole story; I do not really know how or when or where Pamela Tanner died, just that she was hit by a car. I may change POVs throughout the story, but the story is in D.J.'s point of view until further notice. Please review! Thanks!

I have never been so tired.

With Mom being pregnant and Stephanie annoying me day and night and Dad asking me to help him dust the nursery incessantly, I'm just about as exhausted as a girl can get.

I really can't wait for a little sister. Mom says Stephanie and I are allowed to name her, but she's basically saying it's up to me, since Stephanie doesn't really know any good names besides her own. I like Jennifer and Michelle, but wouldn't Era or Jasmine sound so exotic? There's too many names! I can't just pick one!

Hm. Maybe I should write them up on slips of paper and tell Stephanie to draw one. She needs something to occupy her mind besides Disneyland. She's always running around, screaming, "Dizzyland! I wanna go to Dizzyland!"

And each time I tell her, "Stephanie, it's 'Disneyland,' not 'Dizzyland.' Besides, we'll go when you're older."

"Stephie goes to Dizzyland!" she insists. Four-year-olds.

I stopped writing when I heard Dad's voice ring out from downstairs. "D.J.! It's almost dinnertime!"

I groaned. "Okay, Dad," I called back. "I'll be right down." I quickly turned back to my diary.

I have to go eat dinner. From what I saw earlier, Dad's cooking his "Something-in-a-boot." (I didn't catch the first word.)

Love,

D.J.

I rushed downstairs to see Dad take out this giant thing that was shaped like…

"A boot!" I yelled. "Whoa, baby!"

Dad frowned. "I thought I already told you we were having salmon-in-a-boot. Didn't I?"

I tried not to laugh. "You did, but I didn't know it was actually in a shape of a—" I stopped as I remembered what he just said. "Salmon?"

Dad nodded triumphantly. "It's my first experiment. You are my victims. Now, take a bite!"

I stared at the giant boot in front of me. "How?" I asked. Should I cut it up into little pieces? Or nibble at the toe? Maybe I should eat the heel off first. Dad doesn't like heels, apparently. He wouldn't let me buy a pair of high-heeled sandals last week, even when I promised to polish it every other week.

Dad showed me. He cut off the top and gave me a piece. I took a bite with my fork and forced myself to smile. "Yum!" I lied.

"I'm glad you like it," Dad said, smiling, "because there're lots more!"

This is one of those times when I really wish I had a dog, I thought to myself. On second thought, a dog wouldn't eat this thing either. I just had to face the music and wolf down the piece myself. Dad kept watching me eat, grinning proudly (or was he just making sure I didn't throw it out?).

"I finally got Stephanie changed out of her pajamas," Mom said, coming downstairs with my little sister, who was dressed in overalls. I almost wanted to throw my arms around them in gratefulness for their interruption of the meal. Now I could dump all the salmon on Stephanie's plate and just eat the boot's outer coating, which was bread dough.

"Daddy, I'm hungry!" Stephanie complained. She turned towards the table, and then saw the boot. "A shoe!" she exclaimed. "That's ugly!" I saw mom give a snort as she tried to conceal her laughter.

Dad rushed to his defense. "It's not ugly," he said, obviously hurt. "It's dinner."

Stephanie pursed her lips. "Well, it's the ugliest dinner I ever saw."
Mom couldn't hold back her giggles anymore. She burst out laughing, and soon, everyone was laughing with her. Mom has one of those laughs that are contagious; it makes things all the funnier.

"Um, Danny," Mom began. I could tell she was searching for an excuse not to eat the boot. "Danny, the boot's so beautiful, I just couldn't bear to eat it. Maybe you should have it all to yourself." She walked over to the refrigerator. "I'll make dinner for D.J., Stephanie, and me."

"Honey, I don't think you should be cooking when you're—"

"Nonsense!" Mom exclaimed, even though her stomach was so big she couldn't even reach the bottom drawer of our refrigerator. "Being pregnant doesn't make me handicapped. I can still cook a meal!"

In the end, we had a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs. Stephanie kept talking about how she loved "pasgehtti," and when I finally got annoyed enough, I tried to teacher her how to say "spaghetti." Now I'm going to be hearing the word "spaghetti" a lot.

I went to my room after dinner to write in my diary. After twenty minutes or so, I heard a shriek. I poked my head out the door just as Dad was coming out of the nursery with streak-free glass cleaner and some paper towels. "Is everything all right, Pam?" he asked worriedly, rushing down the hall to their bedroom.

"No!" Mom called back. I got scared. "I think—it's time!"

A/N: As I said before,this is all my educated guess of what D.J.'s life was like with her mother around. It might be totally different, I don't know.Hope you liked it!