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I am guilty of falling prey to the pressures of Pinterest.

I clearly went overboard for Michael’s Halloween party.

But there were certainly a lot of Halloween crafts and ideas that I found that I DID NOT APPROVE OF!!!

This is a reblog from last season- Enjoy!!


I remember when I was little on Halloween night, my father coming home from work a little bit earlier than usual and diligently carving a jack o’lantern for us.

He would work very hard and he would set aside all of the pulp and the pumpkin seeds so that my mother could toast them for later.

When he was done we would turn off the lights and marvel at how amazing and cool our pumpkin looked.

No matter what...this is waht it looked like.... Every. Year.

No matter what…this is what it looked like….

We would then go trick or treating with an old pillowcase and that was the extent of it.

We were thrilled.

Nowadays (like everything else) Halloween has turned into something that we can agonize over.

My Dad’s jack o’lantern would never live up to today’s standards.

Imagine pinning a picture of that on Pinterest??


No way!

A regular old Jack O’Lantern with triangle eyes and nose?

That’s for amateurs….

Today’s pumpkin designers have many different ways to show off their skills….

Of course there’s the obligatory moustache pumpkin…

Um, who was the genius that decided that everything with a moustache was cool??

Um, by the way who was the genius that decided that everything with a moustache was cool??

If you have actually experienced a moustache you would know that there is truly nothing cute or cool about it…..

Then of course since we let our children have pacifiers until they are 6, we might as well give them to our pumpkins as well….


I realized today as I walked down the Target aisles and was on Pinterest…Halloween is the new competition sport for moms.

Today’s pumpkins have become the latest tool in a mother’s race to show off how crafty and superior she is.


Not only is this mother craftier than you, she has taken it upon herself to turn her pumpkin into a learning tool as well….beat that bitches.

And if that doesn’t take up enough time out of your day, you can start on your next project that will only require you to handpaint ten pumpkins….


Once you have taken care of the outside pumpkins you can move indoors where you can design fancy indoor pumpkins that will take everyone’s breath away…


Nowadays it is totally normal to spend your days writing cryptic messages with a calligraphy pen on a white pumpkin….

When you are done decorating all of your pumpkins, maybe then you can focus what little time and energy you have left to other Halloween festivities….like making your own candy corn!

Why would you just go out and a buy a bag of candy corn for 99 cents when you can spend two solid days making your own?

Why would you just go out and a buy a bag of candy corn for 99 cents when you can spend two solid days making your own?

I have said it many times and I will say it again.

Who the fuck has this kind of time?

I have tried to imagine how I would feel if I had endless time on my hands with nothing to do.

Would I actually want to make weird pumpkins and homemade candy corn??

Maybe someday it will happen.

Maybe someday Mr. Gaga will come home after a long day’s work and walk in the door and see lots of ornate pumpkins and Halloween decor.

Hanging from the door frame right at eye level when he enters the house will be….


This is a tampon fashioned into a ghost.

There’s nothing left to say, except that this tampon ghost is definitely by far the scariest Halloween decoration I could ever imagine.

What is this world coming to??





Top Ways for Moms to Prevent Ebola in their Family

Let’s face it – we need to take this Ebola outbreak seriously.

It’s in NYC for God sakes…the ways this can spread are endless.

As a mother I have especially been noticing some precarious situations that we put ourselves in that could potentially find us in the local Ebola Ward.

I want to share – so we can all be a little more careful:




Or the Thomas the Train table or any table that small children crowd around and touch and lick various objects on said table.  I remember when Michael and Sam were little every single time they even looked at one of those tables at the book store or library they would instantly come down with croup, “hand foot and mouth disease” or a stomach bug.

Apparently Ebola makes the stomach bug look like a walk in the park.

So apparently you will be bleeding from the inside and the outside while simultaneously vomiting and having diarhea....

So apparently you will be bleeding from the inside and the outside while simultaneously vomiting and having diarrhea and the hiccups – think about that before you let your kid reach for that Lego.


I am a big fan of the staycation – which many people fault me for.  People think that being well-traveled is important. People think it is very important to see the world and learn about other cultures and lands.

They feel it necessary to pack up their belongings into little teeny vials that are deemed acceptable by the TSA, get groped and endure cavity searches and whatever else it takes to get onto the plane, and then sit in an enclosed space that could potentially be filled with SARS, Bird Flu, Stomach Bug, and now EBOLA.

Jet-setters seem to believe that traveling to their various destinations and their adventures around the world are very important.

Do you know what I think is important?

Not bleeding from my eyeballs.

Stay home people.


This is where both housewives and working mothers across the nation will rejoice!!

If you are both working outside of the home, did you ever think that you or your husband could be contracting Ebola on business travels?  Did you ever think that if you are out in the world working and interacting with people, touching filthy desks and computers and trains that you could be contracting Ebola yourself?

What if you are a stay-at-home mom?  Are you taking the children out to filthy grocery stores and touching slimy germ-infested grocery carts?  Are you paying for things via credit or debit and touching the virus filled key pad on the credit card swiper thingy??  Or are you paying with cash that was just yesterday in someone else’s wallet or pocket or bra??

These scenarios are endless and because the best way to contract Ebola is through bodily fluids, I think it is an obvious choice when I say – It’s best to not have sex with your husband until this whole thing dies down.

I know a few of you  one person  zero women  many of you will be devastated by this!!!

But I have learned over time that women in America are very resourceful when it comes to this matter.  We saw that first hand with the widespread enjoyment of FIFTY SHADES OF GREY and the sexual fulfillment that you all were able to supply to yourself, minus your husband.

Bullet users rejoice!


Speaking of weird fantasies – I never understood everyone’s fascination with zombies and vampires.

Apparently if you are going to have a crush on someone – this is finally when your bizarre obsession with a zombie will finally seem appropriate – because since they are already dead – I am fairly certain they cannot get or spread Ebola!!

Also this vampire obsession that women have between True Blood and the Twilight series finally makes sense!!

Once you determine his eyeballs are not bleeding from the Ebola virus and that he actually cannot be killed - he does seem pretty sexy!!

Once you determine his eyeballs are not bleeding from the Ebola virus and that he actually cannot be killed – he does seem pretty sexy!!



All the sticking hands into dirty bowls of candy and trying on each other’s sweaty masks and hats that are filled with steamy breathe and snots…..It’s enough to just hide inside in a HAZMAT suit.

The children have to be able to enjoy the Halloween traditions somewhat but definitely skip “bobbing for apples” and the “donut on a string” game we played at Michael’s party was a recipe for disaster now that I look back on it.

Regular trick-or-treating can be fine – as long as you go through the candy.  Be sure to throw out anything that looks as though it could have been homemade or that someone packaged themselves!!

If you get any of these "Ebola Balls" or loose candy corns .....throw them directly into the nearest garbage!!

If you get any of these “Ebola Balls” or loose candy corns …..throw them directly into the nearest garbage!!



I thought of this today as I brought my children to the pumpkin patch and let them enjoy the “corn pit.” 

Ordinarily we enjoy the corn pit - but today all I could think of was the potential for us all to die.

Ordinarily we enjoy the corn pit – but today all I could think of was the potential for us all to die.

It’s obvious to me and most individuals that enjoy their health and wellness that one should stay away from pits of doom and despair that you would find at McDonald’s and Chuck E. Cheese.  The same goes for slimy bounce houses that besides potentially blowing away at any minute – are also filled with Ebola and Ebola-like viruses.

However, many mothers willingly bring their children to these filthy disgusting establishments.  When you go to Chuck E. Cheese or bouncy house facilities just know that they are filled to the brim with sweating, screaming rotten children that are bleeding from their eyeballs  that could potentially have a serious illness!!

Please remember that Ebola can fester in your body for up to 21 days before symptoms appear.

Think of that the next time you toss your kids into something like this:




It’s not worth it.  These hospitals are just filled with diseases and Ebola-filled healthcare workers.

Whatever illness you think you have – (as long as you are sure it’s not Ebola of course) stay away from the hospital.

This is a place that used to be where you could safely go to be cured of ailments – now it has become a place filled with germ spreading.  You could go in with a papercut and come out with a fatal illness.

Take Airborne everyday and if you start to develop any respiratory issues just start chugging Robitussin.

Stomach issues? Take Pepto Bismal and Tums.

Most allergic reactions can be cured with Benadryl.

Migraine? Take some Advil and go to bed.

You broke your leg?  Eat boron tablets.

There’s a natural remedy for everything.

Your giving birth??  Grab your yoga mat and bring it to the nearest stream and squat.

Even though I have made fun of home births in the past – I think now I have to eat my words.

I think it is actually probably safer at this point to give birth on a rock somewhere.


Now this woman is clearly insane - but she might not be as dumb as she looks.  She surely won't catch ebola in a swamp filled with rocks.

Now this woman is clearly insane – but she might not be as dumb as she looks.                                                       She surely won’t catch Ebola in a swamp filled with rocks.


I hope this helps.

Maybe if we all think twice before we do germ-spreading activities we will be safe and healthy.




Michael had requested a Halloween party for his birthday.   After torturing me night after night after he accidentally saw the Annabelle trailer, I was on the fence about it.

He assured me that he would not be scared, so we went for it.

All of the parents were warned that this would be a haunted party.  I asked them to each tell me a secret about their child and we had a gypsy come armed with secrets, looking into her crystal ball on the back porch.


They each went in one by one and came out completely shocked and wide-eyed, asking aloud how she could possibly know what she knew about them.

While the kids were talking to the gypsy – I had to think of activities to keep the other 14 children occupied.

I looked up Halloween party games – and “bobbing for apples” came up a lot.

The thought of a bunch of filthy Ebola-virus ridden children sticking their mouths in a barrel of water and then licking and biting at apples seemed like a bad idea.

I settled on another old-fashioned game called “donut-on-a-string.”

The kids compete to see who can eat their donut first with their hands behind their backs...

The kids compete to see who can eat their donut first with their hands behind their backs… instead of Ebola-laced apples, the donuts seemed like a safer bet.

Kids also had the chance to stick their hands into different boxes that had different “body parts” in them.

We had a box of “warm human blood” (Hunt’s tomato sauce heated up to be lukewarm) and a “human heart” (peeled beefsteak tomato.)


The scabs were bacon bits and the eyeballs were large pimento olives…

We served pizza and cupcakes….


And cake…


One of the kids looked at the cake gravely and said “Someone got murdered on this cake!”

Once it got dark it was time for a scary walking tour of the neighborhood.

Mr. Gaga and I had elaborate plans to walk the children around the neighborhood telling scary stories.  We enlisted help from others so that they could jump out at just the right time and scare the children.

I had casually told people of my plans ahead of time and got very horrified reactions.

Several people thought we were sadistic.  Several people suggested that we tone it down because the kids would have nightmares.

The final reaction that convinced me that we had to do this is when a co-worker said “None of these kids will ever want to come to your house for a playdate!”

It was then we decided to definitely move forward with our plans of torture.

We just so happen to have two empty houses on our street so we made up scary stories as to why they were abandoned due to hauntings and murders.  We had placed body parts around the yards and asked the kids to collect them.

In one backyard we set up an old mattress with bloody sheets on it and told a story of a girl who haunted the bed.  As the kids inched towards the bed carefully, a ghoulish woman covered in blood popped up from the sheets and started moaning.

Next stop was our neighbor’s garden which we explained was haunted and filled with dead animals.  We said we often hear yelling and moaning coming from the garden – as the kids listened – our neighbor started moaning from the dark garden.  He suddenly popped out with a hockey mask and an axe and chased the kids.  They all screamed bloody murder and ran down the driveway.

The last stop was at the end of our street where we talked about a young man who had once been on his motorcycle trying to outrun the police.  He had driven his motorcycle down our street and straight into the woods but never came out.   The police searched everywhere for him and he never turned up.   Rumor has it he is still in the woods driving his motorcycle.  Mr. Gaga said sometimes you can hear him at night.  He said if we are all very quiet we can hear him.  Everyone stood breathlessly trying to listen and we heard the faint sound of a motorcycle.  As it started to get louder and louder, the children were getting very agitated.  Just then Mr. Gaga’s friend rounded the corner and came straight at us dressed as a zombie on a motorcycle.

I have never seen children scream and run so fast.


Right at that point it was time for pick up!! The party was over.

It was time to throw back a few apple martinis.

Michael is officially nine and none of his friends will be coming over again anytime soon….life is good.

Mr. Gaga says this is the last time I am allowed to have a birthday party at home – for fear that we will end up divorced due to the intense planning that goes on leading up to these parties.

Mr. Gaga says I am crazy.

I blame Pinterest.






Pregos Say the Darndest things….

I have had a few youngsters around me lately that are pregnant for the first time.

They just are so innocent and cute with their hopeful and sweet love for their unborn child.

They are so clueless as to what is about to happen to their life so they say some hilarious shit.

Sometimes I correct them.

Sometimes I just don’t say anything and nod my head in agreement.

Sometimes I just have a little laugh at their expense.


And sometimes I just cannot believe how little they know…..

So I laugh maniacally:


But just remember Pregos!! While I might laugh at you and your Bugaboo strollers and your “Gender Reveal Parties” and your all-over dazed and confused stares – I ALWAYS warn you!!!!

Now here’s my Top 5 Hilarious things that Pregnant people say:

#1 – “I’m only crying because I am hormonal – I will be better once I have the baby.”


That’s not accurate at all.

Think about the tears that you have shed over the course of the nine and half months of pregnancy.

Multiply that number of tears by 500 and smoosh all of that water into about 6 months.

That’s what lies ahead – my pregnant little angels.

Your hormones are still crazy after you have the baby and you can add to that the smell of poop, bloody engorged boobs, a fat stomach that has no baby in it, shrill screaming in the middle of the night and a nightly average of 5 hours of sleep.

The crying will continue and it will be deep sobbing to the depths of your soul.  Be ready for it.

#2 – “I only hate my husband right now because I am pregnant and hormonal, I will love him again after I have the baby.”


The hatred will become much worse.

Before you got pregnant – you likely would look over at your husband in bed and see this:

david beckham

So you are probably unaccustomed to any bad feelings towards your significant other…

But be warned that as soon as you give birth – when you look over in bed at your husband you will now see the same exact human being – but instead of looking like David Beckham – all you will see is this:


You will quickly assume the role of the mother which will include but not be limited to: caring for the child’s eating and burping needs, caring for the child’s private parts with various ointments, wipes and gauze strips, caring for the child’s comfort and sleeping needs, swaddling and clothing the child, among other household duties and entertaining and being nice to visitors.

During all of this you will look over at your husband who at one point you may of thought of as your knight in shining armor and you will see a stupid, useless, vapid creature who you want to murder in the night.  You will consider different ways you can murder him.  You will be up at night breastfeeding and you will see him drooling into his pillow and you will want to smother him.

You won’t do it.

In time you will probably like him again.

But please know that the hatred is far from over.

#3 – “I am going to breastfeed so I can lose weight.”

I mean apparently this can in fact work for Gisele and other women who are good at starving themselves to death.  Your body burns like 5000 calories via breastfeeding so your hunger becomes worse than ever.  In addition, you need to be sure to eat and drink certain things to create superior breastmilk – so it’s quite difficult to have breastfeeding take the place of Weight Watchers.

Breastfeeding is impossible as it is.  Breastfeeding AND starving yourself???  Don’t set yourself up for failure.

#4 – “I need a wipe warmer because I don’t want my baby’s butt to get cold!”

I mean – there are those that have said that I am a horrible person and mother -so maybe that’s why I never felt this maternal instinct to protect my children’s buttocks from mysterious winds indoors.

When children are screaming and crying and covered with piss and diarhea and it’s 3 AM – I never really gave two flying shits about the windchill near their assholes.

The rest of their life they will be sitting down on cold toilet seats.

I think it best that they learn about the harsh realities of life right from the get-go.

When your ass is out of it’s diaper, cold winds blow by and might cause a chill on your anus.

Isn’t that what life’s all about?

#5 – I heard that breastfeeding hurts…is that true?”

Um… I think the word “hurt” is an insult to breastfeeders across the land.

I don’t know, imagine taking your boob and touching the sun with it….


Then imagine immediately going back to earth, lying down in the street and sticking your boob on the pavement and a yellow schoolbus, filled with tons of rotten children, drives over your boob…..

boob bus

and then imagine you sit up quickly and someone at that very moment shoots a gun and the bullet goes right through your nipple.


That’s basically what it feels like.

Then like 40 minutes later – you have to do that whole thing over again.

It doesn’t just hurt.  It’s a searing pain that goes into the innermost layers of your being and for like 20 seconds you think you might actually die.  But once the baby latches on – it’s totally fine!  You will totally love it!

The important thing is to stay positive!!!

One day you will look back at all of this and laugh!!!




Ten Ways Prison can be Amazing

Today MAMA KAT’S WRITING WORKSHOP is asking for a post inspired by the word “orange.”

I have been thinking about my post about jail because of poor Theresa Guidice’s recent sentencing of 15 months in jail.  While that might be scary for her – let’s not all forget how luxurious a minimum security prison can be….

This is a repost from last OCTOBER, enjoy!


My book club recently chose the book “Orange is the New Black” as our book pick. I was interested in reading this and watching the series based on a woman who is sent to a Danbury, Connecticut prison for a drug trafficking crime she committed during college, ten years after the fact.

A friend mentioned that she had watched the entire series on Netflix and was obsessed with it.

“Why? It’s that good?” I inquired.

“No, because I drive by the Danbury exit and fantasize what it would be like if I could live in the prison…” she answered in a hushed tone.

“Haha…” I chuckled.

She looked back at me with a straight face. “Do you think it’s bad that I have fantasies of going to prison?” she asked.

“Well, I haven’t seen the show….I don’t know….” I answered warily.

“Well – let me tell you…I don’t see the problem with going to prison at all….it seems downright enjoyable. They read entire books without anyone bothering them and they provide you with an outfit!” she exclaimed.

Hmm…she has a point…and upon reading the book, I completely understand what she’s fantasizing about…..


1 – UNDISTURBED LEISURELY READING: Well, the reading thing is huge for me.  Imagine if you could just lie in bed all day and read books and magazines without being disturbed?

Are you fucking kidding me? That’s supposed to be punishment?

I am sorry – but the last time I read more than one page of US Weekly without being bothered by some child or husband was 1994. Also, I have been reading this “Orange is the New Black” book for two weeks and have read only half because by the time I get around to reading, my eyelids won’t stay open.

2 – UNLIMITED EXERCISE TIME: Although I have the best of intentions, when I am not working and especially when I am working, it is extremely difficult to squeeze in even 45 minutes of exercise.  I am constantly scrambling around, running errands, cleaning, volunteering, buying 500 birthday presents, grocery shopping and cooking.  To be able to go to a daily yoga class AND take a daily hour-long stroll around the prison track would be downright luxurious.

3 -ALL MEALS ARE PROVIDED: I am sorry, perhaps I am misunderstanding the penal system, but explain to me what is so sad and hard about someone serving you 3 meals a day?  Granted the food is disgusting but guess who’s not cooking or cleaning the kitchen?? You.

4 –  NO PRIMPINGIn prison, (much like at home) you don’t want anyone to try to get with you romantically.  But in prison you can outwardly let yourself go (which you can’t really do in polite society.)

When you are in jail, you can essentially never do your hair or makeup again.  If I knew that I was surrounded by butchy lesbians that were murderers and drug addicts…you can be sure I would be flushing my flatiron and mascara down the toilet.

I would immediately assume a “natural look.”  I am sure Mr. Gaga would be upset when he saw me during visiting hours, but I think I wouldn’t really care anymore.

Thank you for visiting me ...I can't wait to come home.....

Thank you for visiting me …I can’t wait to come home and get a keratin treatment.

5 -AUTOMATIC WEIGHT LOSS WITHOUT TRYING: When all of the food in your life is inedible and you are afraid of everyone around you and stressed about your predicament of being a jailbird guess what happens?  You get skinny…..without trying.  Well I hate to say it but I’ll commit a felony tomorrow for that opportunity alone.

6- ALL COOKING IS DONE IN THE MICROWAVE:  If you ever get an urge to cook in prison you can steal random ingredients and cook them up in a microwave for a special prison-time fine dining special.  So basically the most work that you will ever do concerning a meal will be to press a button.  Upon cooking up such creation, the people who you share it with will “ooh” and “ahh” and be very appreciative.  Unlike the little bastards at home that complain and refuse to eat after you slaved for hours over a hot stove.

7 – THERE’S A UNIFORM: And they give you several…for free.  I literally would love nothing more than to wear a uniform for the rest of my life.

I essentially have created my own uniforms that consist of wife beaters, flip flops and uggs even though I am not incarcerated.  It would be nice to know that I am wearing a uniform because I have to due to strict prison guidelines and not just because I have lost all hope of being stylish and cool.

If I had a choice looking like these two for life:


or these two…..


I would choose those khaki numbers with the waffle shirts in a hot second.

8- Coffee-time: So apparently in prison, twice a day there is coffee time.  Prisoners are offered coffee and they can take their coffee and sit with their friends and enjoy their coffee and have “coffee-talk.”

What the fuck?

Do you know I literally take two sips of every coffee I ever make or purchase?  Do you know that I have half-drunk coffees strewn about my car because I am always racing around like a maniac?

Do you remember the last time you and a friend just sat face-to-face drinking lattes without children and without interruptions?

Well if you would ever enjoy doing that twice a day…you better start swallowing a balloon filled with drugs my law-abiding friends.

9 – YOU ENTERTAIN CHILDREN ONCE A WEEK: That’s right. When you are very bad and you commit heinous crimes “for punishment” you see your children once a week.   OH! THAT WOULD BE SO HORRIBLE!   I say as I run into the streets carjacking the first people I can find.

10 – YOU CAN DEVELOP HOBBIES:  I would be thrilled with the reading and the exercise but if you so desired you can take up knitting.  Apparently this is a popular prison hobby.

Although I do not fall in the category of you 50 Shades loving- bullet users…you can even knit yourself a bullet and spend countless hours…um….enjoying your “yarn bullet.”  (A popular prison toy.)


In closing – I think it’s safe to say we, the mothers of America, are the real prisoners of society.

I won’t be judging any of you if you choose to break a few laws at this time.  If we see each other robbing a bank or shoplifting at our local Macy’s, we can give a wink, knowing that we are that much closer to a coffee and a fresh jumpsuit.



Kids just wanna have Runs

I don’t know if it’s because I am late to join the running world or not, but it seems to me that everyone I know is training for some sort of half-marathon or at the very least a 5k.

People in the workout world often deem it necessary to “cross-train” which means adding to their Cross-Fit or their Hot Yoga or their Tennis with an ungodly amount of running.  They join marathons and triatholons and Polar Bear plunges.

I am admittedly not a “runner,” but I have come a long way.  When Michael was about to turn four years old – I signed him up for a running program where he could potentially run around a track once, maybe twice, and (in my naive little idiotic brain) GET TIRED.

He ran two miles without stopping the first day. …so that backfired.

But it actually made me realize that I should probably be able to run as much as a preschooler – and at the time – I couldn’t.

So now – five years later I am doing my 3 mile run, two or three times a week.

My major motivation for this?

I want to drink a vat a glass of wine daily and not feel too bad about it.  Possibly a cookie.  Possibly a chip.  Possibly something with a lot of cheese and carbs…I mean the list is endless of the foods and beverages that I would like to consume daily.

It’s a problem.

So that’s why I am doing it.

But WHY? May I ask …are these people running 26 miles?

This guy is clearly a huge douchebag - Ok yes - he has 8-pack abs and apparently ran 26 miles in a short time period - big fucking deal...Would he be fun at a party? I don't think so.

This guy is clearly a huge douchebag – Ok yes – he has 8-pack abs and apparently ran 26 miles in a short time period – big fucking deal…Would he be fun at a party? I don’t think so.

So – of course – it’s not enough to just run our own bodies.  We have to run our children’s bodies as well, in an effort to complete the circle of perfection.

With all of the “type-A” in my town – it only makes sense that there would be a town-wide 5 mile relay for children.  It’s perfectly reasonable that the children invited to participate would be ages 2!!!! to twelve! (insert emoticon laughing so hard it’s crying here.)

And so Michae,l being a “joiner” – joined and then me being a Type A mom that makes fun of other Type A moms – made him practice.

Well – I mean he can’t very well run over a mile quickly without a little practice!!

And after a couple of runs where I jogged next to him with a stopwatch- barking out commands and warnings that walking or slowing down would “let down his team” or ” make his team lose,” we were ready.


The day of the relay, Michael rolled out of bed at 7:00 am when I woke him and came downstairs to eat a breakfast of eggs and bacon and was ready and out the door on time for his 7:45 call time at the town hall.  When the relay started,  Michael did an amazing job – without stopping once to catch his breath or walk.

While other children in town were sleeping, eating pop-tarts, and playing video games my child was running over a mile.

His team came in as one of the top ten teams.

We were very excited at the finish line – and I immediately asked one of the volunteers where we could see the times and standings.

A woman offered us a banana and said “Oh no – the kids’ race doesn’t have a winner.”

I wanted to flip the banana-stand over and demand a recount but I also wanted to play it cool and pretend I was normal so I just casually said – “So, where can we just find the list of the times?”

She did a little fake smile that let me know that in her head she was thinking “Here’s another Goopville fucking lunatic mother.”

and said, “we don’t keep track of the children’s times.”

and handed us this:

They handed us a dog tag chain that said "Goopville Relay."  And what should we do with that?

They handed us a dog tag chain that said “Goopville Relay.” And what the fuck should we do with this? Can we lord this over others? Does this say you are one of the top ten runners in this town??? NO. NO IT DOESN”T.

We resolved to say “If we had fun – we won.”  ( A common theme amongst childhood sporting events in modern day America.) However – when children go above and beyond, when they chose to join a community activity and they excel ….should they not receive some recognition?  Even if it’s just their name and time on a board?   Something that shows that they were there and they completed this challenge?

Have we become so used to the “everybody gets a trophy” mentality – that even when you go above and beyond you cannot receive recognition?

Have we been so overly-sensitive for children who might not be that athletic, or not that much of a joiner ? Have we made their life journies  super-comfy and safe and easy – and in the mean-time forgotten about praise and accolades?

I don’t expect that my children will come in first place at the Science Fair, and I don’t expect that they will win first place in the local tennis tournament, or even the baseball championships.  Some other child, who has put in 10,000 hours or has a natural ability or is a genius, will earn those ribbons and medals.  And what’s wrong with that? They deserve accolades! FOR BEING THE BEST AT SOMETHING!

My son’s relay team came in 6th place.  They weren’t first, but they were in the top ten and they deserve to be given their time and whatever comes with beating out the other 90 percent of runners in their town.


We have to remember that many children in today’s society are slovenly, lazy creatures that only care about Minecraft and completing virtual levels and beating virtual games!

Any children that are in the out of doors competing with real live humans should be rewarded!!

Last week – I heard through the grapevine that a group of Type A Goopville moms created a “kids running club” in their neighborhood.  The head mom was in charge of gathering the children on their quiet street and guiding them to run certain routes and lengths.

When an elderly neighbor saw the group of children running wild in the streets – she was very taken aback.

She hadn’t likely seen active children moving their bodies in the sunshine for decades!!

So she did what any logical adult would do in the year 2014 if they saw a group of children outside being active.

She called 911.

GOOPVILLE RESIDENTS ALERT!! If you see something like this in your neighborhood - call the police right away!!!

GOOPVILLE RESIDENTS ALERT!! If you see something like this in your neighborhood – call the police right away!!!

The Goopville police had to actually come and address the “situation” of children running around in the street!

I mean between the mediocre response when you make a huge effort and the over-the-top response you get from a mediocre effort and the elderly citizens trying to get active children arrested, it’s no wonder that all of today’s kids don’t lock themselves in the basement with a lifetime supply of baked goods and play Grand Theft Auto all day and night.







Sleep and those little slices of death….

Awhile back I started noticing that Mr. Gaga and i had stopped bouncing out of bed in the morning.

We kind of sit up slowly, then swing our legs to get our feet touching the floor.  Then there’s the heaving the body up and out of the bed, and that’s when we notice the stiff neck, the tight back, sometimes stiff legs.

As a chronic hypocondriac I have been known to pepper Mr. Gaga with medical questions quite regularly.  Lately, I found myself pointing to something on my neck or back and asking if he thought it was normal for it to hurt on the daily.

“I think we need a new bed.” I finally said a few weeks ago.

“We aren’t that old, we shouldn’t be this rickety,” I explained.

Mr. Gaga is always terrified of change and has been sleeping on a pillow that resembles a pancake for years because he swears its the only pillow that doesn’t bother his neck.

“Our bed is fine.” he answered decisively.

“No – it’s ten years old and we are getting a new bed. We deserve a bed.” I reasoned.

Off we went and we picked out a luxurious bed that was recommended by friends.  It was extremely firm which would help our backs and necks.

I bought a fresh new crisp down comforter and splurged at Nordstrom on two pillows that really cost more than I care to think about, but that promised to provide amazing lumbar support!!  I hid the pancake pillow in a safe place just in case these million dollar pillows didn’t work out.

We gave our bed to Michael, figuring that for his little body it would be quite perfect.  His two-year old bed with very soft pillow-top luxury went to Sam and Sam’s hand-me down bed that was 8 years old went in the garbage.

Always the fan of POTTERY BARN - the boys were able to pick out the sports bedding of their choice – and we got rid of any lamps or accessories that was deemed “baby-ish.”

Sunday night we were all so excited to go to sleep in our new beds.

I just wanted to feel as though I was in a cloud.  I think that I deserve that.

Seriously - how badly do you want to just jump into this right now??

Seriously – how badly do you want to just jump into this right now??

The next morning we were all cautiously optimistic about our new lives as human beings that slept on proper beds.

None of our backs hurt and we all had a good night’s rest.  To be positive that our lives were changed forever we would need one more night – but we were fairly certain that things were looking up.

“Did you love the pillow? Please say you loved the pillow…it really cost a lot of money…” I begged Mr. Gaga.

“I think it could be good…but I can’t be sure yet..” he said hesitantly.

It would take one more night to be really sure.

But Monday morning something happened that would ruin all of our chances to find out about the joys of sleeping or the luxury of a bed that is suited perfectly for our bodies and our lumbar systems.

During a quiet morning we were completely caught off guard.

The TODAY SHOW was on while we ate our breakfast.  The kids were eating cereal quietly.  Just the sound of their clinking spoons and Matt Lauer were behind me as I made their lunches at the counter.

Suddenly, they were screaming and crying.  I whipped around quickly when I realized they were in distress.

They both had their eyes closed and were screaming “Turn it!! Turn it!!”

I couldn’t understand what was happening.  “What?!” I screamed frantically, but then I looked at the television.  Matt Lauer was gone.

And this fucking bitch was in his place.

photo (6)

Um…. you’re not Matt Lauer….

Yes, Warner Brothers Pictures decided that it would be a great idea to show a trailer for their movie, Annabelle, that would make a grown adult shit their pants at 7:45 AM.  This movie preview aired when innocent children are eating their cereal minding their own business, waiting for Al Roker to tell them if it will be hot out.

That evening I found myself tortured all night long.

Both children couldn’t sleep, claiming that every time they closed their eyes they saw “that doll.”

Finally, Sam fell asleep after I coached him to think about Halloween candy, the beach, and Santa Claus.

Michael could not be consoled that easily.

“I keep seeing the doll!” he cried.

"It's just a's fake....just don't think about it..." I said. "Plus you don't have any dolls so you are safe."

“It’s just a doll…it’s fake….just don’t think about it…” I said. “Plus you don’t have any dolls so you are safe.”

He kept calling me to his room, and with tears in his eyes would explain that he couldn’t possibly go to sleep with this image in his head.

Every fifteen minutes I had to press pause on my DVR and go up and reassure him that the movie trailer was fake, the doll was fake and that everything would be okay.

I rubbed his back until it seemed like his breathing slowed.  I slowed down my back rubbing until I stopped my hand and rested it on his shoulder to see if he was asleep. He shot up into a seated position, “Don’t leave!” he begged.

I would go downstairs, and then would find myself back upstairs rubbing his back again shortly.

The torture continued until I decided to just go to bed myself.

I could hear him crying in his room so I invited his huge grown adult body into bed with me and a 3 hour deep REM sleeping Mr. Gaga.

“Now go to sleep,” I whispered as I turned out the light.

I dozed off quickly with his body pressing against my back but was shortly woken up by sobbing.

” Michael! STOP! You are going to wake up your father!” I whispered impatiently, “It’s fine – we are here, now stop this!”

He sniffed and calmed down a bit, and I quickly dozed off again.

Suddenly I was awoken again by my new heavenly bed shaking with Michael’s heaving body.

I am too old for this shit.  I purposely had my children young so I wouldn’t be in my late-30’s and lose sleep from a crying child.

I jumped out of bed and dragged him out by his hands.  I whipped him out of the bed and dragged him to his room – nearly pulling his arm out of the socket.

It was one AM.

“Get in bed!!!” I yelled while simultaneously flipping on every light I could find. “Read some books and get your shit together!” I yelled impatiently.

I frantically reached into his book shelf and whipped a bunch of books on top of this bed.

“I feel like I am going to throw up.” Michael said helplessly while he sat upright in his spanking new Pottery Barn Teen Mets Bed.

I ran to the bathroom and grabbed the wastebasket and threw it next to his bed. “Here.” I said as I turned to go back to my room.

I retreated back to my bed.  I laid down and closed my eyes and just as I started to doze off I heard his sobbing again.

I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

I resolved that I would go to sleep and he would have to figure it out on his own.

The sobs continued and suddenly Mr. Gaga threw our new bedding off of his body and stomped out of our room and into Michael’s bed.

*The bad thing about giving your queen-size bed to your 8 year-old, is that there’s no good reason why you can’t sleep with him when he’s sobbing.

The next morning I stumbled out of bed and woke up the children.  We were all bleary-eyed at the kitchen table eating breakfast silently.  I sipped at my coffee contemplating my day ahead and my night before.

“Do you think that Michael needs psychological help?” I whispered to Mr. Gaga as I made the kids’ lunches.

“No.” he answered shortly.

“I guess Mommy doesn’t like to help children when they are scared…” he announced to the kitchen.

“Yeah – she threw comic books at me.” Michael whimpered.

Mr. Gaga looked at me disapprovingly while I sipped my coffee.

“It’s a fake doll!!” I screamed at everyone defensively.

They all looked back at me with disgust.

Mr. Gaga spoke to Michael and gave him a good luck charm to make him feel safer and the sleep schedule is getting better around here – but I don’t blame myself for not comforting Michael at one o’clock in the morning.

I blame WARNER BROTHERS PICTURES for this travesty.

Children are eating their Pop-tarts   donuts  cake  Cheerios, thinking about all that’s right and wonderful in this world  in the morning before school.  They don’t need to be tortured by some fucking twat doll that comes to life and murders people.

This is not appropriate for the breakfast table you fucking assholes.

This is not appropriate for the breakfast table you fucking assholes.

Now instead of being a well-rested woman that sleeps atop billows of cotton candy….I look like this:

photo (5)

Does this look like someone with a new bed?? I don’t think so.

I hope your happy, Warner Brothers.

I hope your ticket sales are through the roof.

I told a friend of my plight, to explain my horrendous looks.

“You know it’s based on a true story….from a possessed doll in Connecticut.” she told me gravely.

Holy fucking shit balls.

Holy fucking shit balls.

We are trying to move past this.

We are trying to enjoy our new beds and million dollar pillows.

Pray for us.




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