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Monthly Archives: September 2012

Love in the Pumpkin Patch


The first fall I was living in Connecticut after living as a newlywed in New York for a little while, I thought it would be so fun and whimsical to spend a fall day at a pumpkin patch with Mr. Gaga.

The first mistake I made was to wear a cool outfit that I would wear to go somewhere in NYC – which of course included a pointy-toed boot with a spike heel.  I kept sinking into the muddy patch and could barely stand up straight – let alone bend over and pick up a pumpkin.

To add insult to injury, when I wasn’t twisting my ankle, or tripping on pumpkin vines, I was narrowly avoiding small children that were running around me in circles.  While I was trying very hard to be cute and romantic, there were 50 children around that I narrowly avoided crushing or poking their eye out with my stiletto.

Mr. Gaga was annoyed with me, “Why would you wear this outfit to go pumpkin-picking?” he grumbled between clenched teeth as he held me up by my elbow, helping me to not commit involuntary manslaughter on all of the children in the patch.

“Ugh – why are these children here – ruining our romantic time in the pumpkin patch?” I screamed as loud as I could thought to myself.

I remember sweating to death as the sun beat down on us while we waited in line to pay for our pumpkins and apple fritters, swatting at yellow jackets that swarmed around the whole facility.

It was not exactly what I had in mind, and Mr. Gaga swore he would never go again.

While I thought I was being cute and sexy at the pumpkin patch, Mr. Gaga wasn’t impressed.

I have since learned what is appropriate attire for “pumpkin patch day” – and have grown accustomed to going with children, sweating to death, and becoming completely filthy and exhausted from the whole ordeal.  All to come home with a couple of pumpkins to put on our front steps.

Today my best friends, A and L were in town and all of our husbands were doing something to entertain themselves, as usual, so we decided to try out a new place that offered a corn maze, and other activities outside of just pumpkin-picking.

“What should we wear?” I asked L.

“Well – A’s husband said that since it poured rain last night the whole place will be muddy.  We better wear our rain boots.”*

*Rain or shine – we will use any excuse to wear our rainboots. Let me just say that outside of the UGG – this whole “wear hideous rainboots as a fashion statement” trend is the best thing to happen to mothers since the double stroller. 

So off I went thrilled to move my foot out of a flip-flop directly into a rainboot – and excited for a fun day.

We were running late and when we arrived I parked the car quickly and we all got out of the car.  I had parked very close to the car next to me and I noticed there was a young couple sitting in the car, buckling their seatbelts getting ready to leave.

It was a tight squeeze -I saw the young woman watching me as I pushed the kids along in between the two cars. I was tempted to knock on the window and say “Enjoy your romantic Sundays, because once you get knocked up, it’s over honey.” but I thought better of it.

I thought back to when Mr. Gaga and I were young and those days of coming to the pumpkin patch with no kids.  I had a flashback to how I felt when I was a young newlywed enjoying a fall day with nothing to worry about except how I looked.  I looked at the actual pumpkin patch when we arrived and thought of how ridiculous I was to wear heels!!

Now – my looks are clearly the last priority as I arrived with a shirt, jeans and rainboots on what was shaping up to be a beautiful, HOT, SUNNY, DRY day….

When we arrived the kids had a blast just hanging out on huge haystacks for like a half hour!

Then off we went to the “corn pit.” As Michael explained later to my husband, “It was like a “corn box,” like a sandbox has sand in it – it was like that….except instead of sand, it was corn.”

Weird right?

It was corn-effing-tastic.

L is in the midst of building a house right now – and we all agreed that she would speak to her husband about adding a “corn-box.” to the backyard landscaping plan.

We spent hours rolling around in the corn….

It was magical.

There was something very relaxing about all of this corn….we took off our rainboots and dipped our feet in and pretended we were at the spa….(we don’t get out much.)

Of course – my children have to turn everything into the “Jersey Shore,” so while everyone was enjoying the huge tires filled with corn in the corn-pit – I overheard my kids saying “Let’s pretend to be in hot tubs.”

By this time – we were hot and sunburned from the glorious afternoon and realized how absurd it was that we were wearing big heavy rainboots in the dusty dry fields.

A found one puddle in the whole place and we all felt obligated to step in it.

Before we knew it – we had spent most of our day in the cornpit – and we hadn’t even gotten a pumpkin or gone through the maze.

“Do we really have to go in there?” A begged, “We will never get out!”

The kids insisted – so armed with maps we headed in.  We were supposed to find clues along the way to solve some sort of mystery.

Fast forward 30 minutes – the clue charts were thrown in the corn and we were frantically running in circles looking for the light of day.

It was very clear that we were not good at mazes.

We kept grabbing the map from each other and just staring at it blankly.  We would then look up and say “Um, go that way…..”

As I followed L, contemplating how many of our heads could use her Gucci diaper bag as a pillow if we had to spend the night in the corn, I heard her say to one of the kids, “Don’t worry…a helicopter will find us.”

Finally A led us out to safety and we went to the pumpkin patch to finally pick out some pumpkins.

It was a great day, a great way to kick off fall.

We ambled up to our cars, pulling wagons heavy with pumpkins.  As I approached my car I saw a note on my windshield.

Remember that couple from the morning?

The ones in the car parked closely next to mine?

They left me a note.

Let’s just say that it seems like someone skipped their anger management class today……and lets just say that that someone frantically used their dunkin donuts bag as a piece of paper to be sure she could get me a message……

To think I was going to warn them about what it will be like to have kids!!!

I guess they will have to just find out on their own….

and you know what they say….

KARMA IS A BITCH!!!!!

HAPPY AUTUMN TO ALL – EVEN THOSE MISERABLE HUMAN BEINGS THAT LEAVE NASTY NOTES ON CARS BECAUSE CHILDREN TAPPED INTO THEIR SHITTY TOYOTA COROLLA……

PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW!!

xo, Ladygoogoogaga

Dear Mothers Expecting Baby #2,


I saw a friend this week strolling her 8-month-old baby in the mall.  She looked on the verge of tears. She had left her older child with her mother for an hour so she could have a break.  She said the previous day had been very bad.

“Oh the kids were driving you crazy?” I asked nonchalantly.

“No, I had a bad day as a mother…..and as a person,” she answered gravely, tears threatening to spill over.  She went on to tell me how she was feeling – but I didn’t need to hear the details.  I could just look at her eye sockets and the despair on her face and it all came flooding back to me.  I remember all-too vividly how I felt everyday for 3 years when I was home with two babies.

But this is the kicker….nobody warns you how difficult it will be with two children.  Nobody mentions how your whole world will get turned upside down and you will end up on the verge of a nervous breakdown.   As a result of getting blindsided you end up walking through Nordstrom with your baby in a haze of tears, guilt and despair.

That’s what I am here for….TO WARN YOU!!!

To keep it real for you people.

When you are pregnant with your first child, people shower you with gifts, compliments, foot rubs, unsolicited advice, old wives’ tales, hand-me-downs…..

When you are pregnant anytime after that – the general attitude you will get from people (including your husband) is – “You got this, right?”

Nobody cares anymore.

When you have one kid – you have to adjust and it is difficult at first.  You have to get used to running on empty.  You have to get used to putting someone else’s needs before your own.  You have to be a little less narcissistic, but yet, once you get used to all of this – it’s totally manageable.

When the second child comes, you are completely caught off-guard.  You have done this before, so you should be a pro.  It should be easier this time around….right?

WRONG.

Remember how tired you were with one baby?

Remember how guilty and confused you were with one baby?

Remember how much you wanted to smother your husband with your boppy with one baby?

Remember how fat you were with one baby?

Multiply all of that by 1 million percent.

I know what your thinking…..how can one extra little person make the percentage jump one million percent?

Trust me.

It just does.

Oh yeah – and remember that little bit of “me time” you had carved out when you had one child?

Oh, that’s actually completely gone now.  That little snippet of time is now alloted for the baby.

Oh yeah, and if there is an act of God and both children are sleeping or otherwise occupied – you still don’t get a minute to yourself – because that’s when the old needy, neglected husband will come a’ knockin.

You will have to find another avenue for your narcissism too, (thank you blog and Facebook.)

Just don’t say I didn’t warn you……

When Michael was 9 months old, with what little faculties I had at that point, I realized that if I were to ever come out of the state of shock and sleeplessness that I was in, then I would probably tell Mr. Gaga that I was done and put that shit* on lockdown.

(*”That shit” can be loosely defined as baby swings, diapers, and my uterus.)

If you saw me or spoke to me from 2005 to roughly mid-2009 – this is all I remember from the conversation….Sorry.

So in my baby-induced stupor I suggested that we have our children close in age.  Mr. Gaga basically just rolled over in bed and I was pregnant….Michael was 9-months-old.

This arrangement is not for the faint-of-heart.  Two boys came into my life  in an 18-months time span and I thought I would actually die.

If not from just sheer mental and physical exhaustion – but from the loss of self, the sucking up and vanishing of my soul…my actual being.

It was all gone.  My hopes, my dreams, my desires…they were all gone buried under a cloud of nipple pads, burp cloths and “Good Night Moon.”

One time I got a sitter and I went to the nail salon, and acted really crazy. I was hoping to get put away for “exhaustion” – but nobody cared……

I remember sitting on the couch attempting to breastfeed Sam while Michael cried and pulled on me.  Sam would cry because he couldn’t latch on to my boob, Michael would cry because he wanted me and I would cry because I was starting to realize that my life would never be mine again.

FYI – Nursing a baby while an 18 month old jumps all-over you is not recommended for the preservation of your sanity or your nipples.

At Sam’s 3 month check-up, the doctor asked how the breastfeeding was going.

I stared back at him and without emotion stated, “Well, this kid will have a super-duper immune system and no ear infections, but sadly he will also have no mother….because I will be in the institution…”

I thought for sure he was writing down that he advised a quick hospitalization for “exhaustion,” but when he left the room I looked at the notes – and it just said “Mother still fat and complaining about breastfeeding.”

Thankfully, my doctor did suggest switching to formula, time marched on and I survived.

When all was said and done – I always say it was an extremely tough 3 years and then things started to get easier.

The great pay-off now is that they are the best of friends.  They love each other so much and are inseparable.  I am grateful to think that they have each other and will always be close.

Of course as is to be expected they fight incessantly – but I know that they care about each other very much.  When I hear them in their rooms laughing together or watch them playing, I absolutely know that all of my hard work and loss of my soul is worth it in the end because they have each other.

Especially this morning when I went into Sam’s room and saw a little note folded next to his bed from his brother.  I love how they secretly communicate with each other with notes or pictures.  Sam idolizes his older brother, so much that he will keep every little scrap of paper that Michael gives him.

I sighed and thought how sweet my two little angels are as I opened it up to read it and saw this…..

WELL WHAT CAN I SAY? AT LEAST HE SAID SORRY…PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME FOR THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA……COME ON I DESERVE IT AFTER WHAT THESE KIDS HAVE PUT ME THROUGH……

Post it Note Tuesday


                

 

DON’T FEEL BAD FOR ME…THANKS TO ALL OF MY MOTHER’S TELEVISION PROGRAMS , I AM VERY RESILIENT!

THANKS FOR ALL THE NOTES, TEXTS AND EMAILS OF SUPPORT AFTER I THREW THOSE PETITION MOMS UNDER THE BUS…..XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

It’s just the principal….


When I was in 5th grade I had a gym teacher that saved 10 minutes at the end of class for us to take mandatory showers for no apparent reason. 

In junior high, my bus driver chain smoked cigarettes(and possibly other stuff) and cursed us out if we stood up. 

When I turned 16, I got my first job in a restaurant where the owner/cook would throw dishes and hot pans at the wait staff when he was having a bad night.

I had a college professor that refused all of my begging for extra help and my tears and insisted on flunking me despite my best efforts in calculus.

Before graduation, I did a bunch of internships in NYC where I was treated like a slave and worked a million hours for free. (Devil Wears Prada-style)

My first job after graduation was as an editorial assistant for some guy that was working out of an office that his wife paid for – while he pretended to publish coffee-table books about golf.  I can actually say with confidence that he was the biggest living douche-bag to ever walk the streets of Greenwich, Connecticut – and believe me when I tell you – that’s pretty bad.

Where am I going with these tales of woe you ask?

Well – this is basically a tale about how human beings can be ass-hats.

The non-ass-hats have to live on the earth with the ass-hats.

That’s life.

That’s why my parents didn’t intervene with any of the above scenarios – they thought it best that I learn on my own about how horrific people could be.

When I told my mother that my gym teacher was a mean lesbian that watched me take a shower – she said something like “Can we talk about this after Another World?” – and then it was never discussed again.

I guess the mothers in my town don’t believe in this kind of parenting.  They are far too involved with every little tiny detail of their children’s lives to watch “Another World.”

You know how there are mothers who lose their marbles once they decide to stay home with their children?

You know the ones in my town that send out mass-emails to their “mommy club” asking what the weather outside is like?

You know the ones that think that they are the best parents in the world and that their child is a sweet cherubic angel and that they are mother of the year?

Well add to their warped sense of reality a heavy dose of BOREDOM!!! (GO BACK TO WORK GIRLS!!!!) and guess what these geniuses decided to do this time?

With all of their energy and free time did the local mothers in my town:

A- volunteer at a local shelter

B – Learn a new language

C- Get a part-time job

D – Light torches and go to the local newspaper and Board of Ed to cry and complain that the principal is “mean to them.”

DING!! DING!! DING!!!

You chose “D” right?

Of course you did – you know this town so well!!

Don’t think I am making this up!! This small group of parents (including 3 of the past PTO Presidents – and you know those people are usually geniuses) were very upset because they said that the principal was a “mean bully.”

The HARTFORD COURANT ran an article that quoted a mother for saying that when parents would go to the principal with ideas to change things “she would always say no.”

OOhhhh!!!! Now I know why they are so mad…..It’s because they ran the bake sale and a talent show and so now they think they are qualified to run a SCHOOL.  

NO Ladies – NO!!  You can’t run the school!!  

NO! bored moms – you cannot schedule meetings to tell the principal how to change the school and she’s going to listen to you. 

That’s in itself a stupid idea – so already I’m guessing ideas aren’t your strong suit.

But wait – you have to hear some of the stories about why they hate this woman.  One woman said that when she met with her about her child’s BAD behavior – the principal suggested she take parenting classes.

Bahahaha!!! Oh how I would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that one!!

Another person said that their child said that he was scared of the principal and the child had anxiety as a result.

Are you kidding me with this?

Children are supposed to be afraid of the principal!!

You don’t have to like the principal you stupid twats.

So this principal is a little bit tough – and little rough around the edges and doesn’t take shit from nagging annoying parents and their rotten kids.

So what?

So this is a photo of the principal on the first day of school after some parents gave her flowers because they felt bad for her….She doesn’t seem that bad to me…..

Stick to the bake sales PTO’ers and stop ruining people’s lives and careers because you are bored.

If I have said it once I have said it a million times – GO TO EFFING WORK!!!

If not -if you are this bored then volunteer for an organization – help those who are less fortunate, stop BOTHERING PEOPLE!!!!

These morons decided to overturn their elementary school by submitting a letter and signed petition requesting that the Board of Education fires the principal (that has been their for 12 YEARS!) of an AWARD-WINNING ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, WITH AMAZING SCORES!

Ok – let’s see I made sandwiches that looked like daisies, read 50 Shades for the 10th time with my bullet, got a manicure…..hmmm the only thing left to do is start a petition!!!

One of the major complaints of the group was that they had spent years writing letters complaining and bad-mouthing the principal and nobody knows where the letters are.

Ohh….hmmmm…..where could they be??

Let me save you the suspense, rocket scientists…….they are in the garbage. 

If you are looking for your letters, they were last seen somewhere inside of the red circle…..

I’m sorry ….did you think she filed them away in her “Bitches who hate me because I don’t listen to their ideas” folder?

The entertainment factor reading the articles about how “bad” it was for people was off the charts.  My favorite was a quote in an article from a mother who’s kids are currently TWENTY YEARS OLD!!! -but she felt it necessary to get her name on the petition – because she was still very upset about an incident where   “her son threw cranberries at someone’s house when he was little and the principal had him arrested.”

Do you know how hard I would laugh if Sam got arrested for throwing a cranberry??? 

I would high-five the police and the principal for scaring the shit out of him and probably piss my pants from laughing so hard.

When I looked at the article the next time – I fell off my chair laughing – because the woman had called for a retraction!!! I absolutely cannot make this stuff up!!!!!

Editor’s note: Statements made by MOM X have been corrected to indicate that her son and others threw crab-apples, not cranberries, and that the students were detained at the Police Department, not arrested.

ARE PEOPLE THIS BORED???? 

It’s a shame.

So now this principal- who has done her job effectively but hasn’t been ass-kissing these parents and their devil-children – is being replaced at the end of the year!!

SUCCESS FOR THE BORED MOM CULT!!

I hope they are quite happy and proud about all of their diligent work. 

Just think when they die – it will be the second time in their whole life they will be mentioned in the very prestigious Hartford Courant. 

It will say something like “Made awesome daisy sandwiches and destroyed someone’s career.”

CLICK THE BANNER PLEASE ….IT”S THE LEAST YOU CAN DO SINCE EVERYONE IN TOWN WILL NOW HATE ME MORE THAN THEY ALREADY DO……

Be careful what you wish for…


When Sam went off to kindergarten, I cried as I walked back home.  Mr. Gaga and I sat on the front steps enjoying a few sips of morning coffee, and then off he went to work.  I stepped into the kitchen, wiped my tears, put my coffee cup in the sink and looked around.

We had spent the past two days frantically shopping and unpacking from vacation.  Mr. Gaga had been nice enough to make a big “back-to-school breakfast” for the kids, and the remaining pans with greasy bacon and crusted eggs were on the stove top.  The dishwasher was full and needed emptying, there were Legos all over the floor, a stack of papers that needed to be filled out and returned to school was scattered all over the kitchen island, cups and breakfast plates littered the counters.

The place was a shit hole.

I stared at the dishwasher and the weight of it coupled with the deafening silence of the house was too much to bear.

I turned on my heel and went up to my bedroom to get ready for work. (Although it would be nice to have time to myself – I knew it would be best for my mental health to be working that day.) If I had nowhere to be – I I would have surely dissolved into a hysterical mess on the floor in front of the dishwasher.

I had dreamt of this day for 7 years.  As soon as Michael’s head was crowning in the delivery room I was thinking about the day I could ditch him and have some “me” time.

I had wished many times for a day that I would be all alone and could drink my coffee in peace, and watch whatever morning program I wanted.  As I got ready for work I decided to turn on the television in my bedroom and watch Kelly Ripa.

After a couple of minutes I had to call my BF.

“Um – I have been waiting to watch Kelly for 7 years and today is the day – and it sucks.” I said sinking into a depression.

“Oh, yeah – it’s horrible, there’s some football player on it now….it’s not good,” she answered matter-of-factly.

So – all this time I have been watching morning cartoons, and I finally get to watch and there’s some weird football player instead of Regis?

Well, thank God I had somewhere to be – so I couldn’t get too upset.

As I made my way out the door to go to work – I remembered the filthy house.  As I shut the door behind me – I thought, “I’ll clean it up later, I’ll just tell Mr. Gaga that I was busy with…..too busy with….that I ….that I what??

Oh shit.

A newfound sense of dread crept through me as I drove to work pondering this little dilemma.  It seems that when those kids got on that bus to full-day school they took with them a long list of excuses that I will no longer be able to use.

Will I ever be able to say I’m tired again?

” Tired from what?” people will ask.

What will my answer be?

“Tired from walking 3 inches to the bus stop twice a day?”

“Tired from pouring cereal in two separate bowls in the morning?”

And what about Mr. Gaga? He’s never going to let me be “tired” again!!! In the past I could always block any romantic overtures with complaints of exhaustion so that I could watch my shows and relax at night.

I could bark out things like “I just breastfed your son all day, get away from me!” or “Don’t come near me I have been cleaning up vomit all day.”

Now what will I say? I better think of something or the Gaga household is going to be a lot more romantic than its been in approximately 7 years.

This should make your feet feel better after all that walking back and forth to the bus-stop ….now get upstairs!

Speaking of which – I would kill for a day of pampering at the spa.   But if I don’t clean or accomplish anything and take some “me” time, it will probably not look good.  I will just have to tell Mr. Gaga (and anyone else who asks) that I spend a lot of time volunteering at the kids’ classrooms.

Meanwhile, Mr. Gaga will think my toes are curled in the throes of ecstasy, but I will really just be hiding my pedicure.

If all of a sudden I start to look put together and well-groomed – it will be a signal that I have too much time on my hands.

Hmmm, I will have to wear a fake moustache when he’s around or he will totally know something is up!

“My day was sooo boring, I volunteered at the school and then I was going to clean the whole house from top to bottom but I forgot I promised a friend I would volunteer with her at a soup kitchen today……”   “What? Oh, I know I keep meaning to wax my moustache but I haven’t had a minute!!!”

And then what? Is Mr. Gaga going to expect me to shave my legs on a regular basis?  I can’t really think of a reason why they wouldn’t be shaved… now that I have ALL DAY!!!

What will be next? Will I be expected to wear matching bra and underwear sets?  Will I have to throw out my maternity underwear once and for all?

Speaking of underwear, what reason will there be for people in the Gaga household to not have clean underwear anymore?  I certainly can no longer say I haven’t had a chance to do laundry…..

At one point this past holiday season, Mr. Gaga pointed out that he wore a pair of dirty underwear inside-out in an act of sheer desperation, because I had neglected the laundry for so long.

I don’t think that’s going to fly anymore.

Let’s face it. There’s no household chore I will be able to get out of.  I’ve been known to leave the house in the morning without emptying the dishwasher.  I would be out and about all day running errands and entertaining the children, and then I would watch Mr. Gaga do it at night while I made dinner.

“Sorry – I couldn’t get to it in between the library, the park, the playdate, and music class!” I would say.

And speaking of Mr. Gaga coming home from work….there have many days that I have met him in the driveway as he got out of his car.  Citing horrible children that were torturing me, I would leave frantically in search of a minute’s peace.  I would go anywhere to get away from the beasts and leave him to deal with them for an hour or two.

After I am home alone all day – I don’t think Mr. Gaga will like coming home to this anymore…..

Oh, and my car.  For the past 7 years, Mr. Gaga and any other responsible adult would be horrified upon entering my vehicle.  It is basically filled with pounds and pounds of beach sand from May to September, along with crushed goldfish, munchkin pieces, exploded Capri Sun containers, and used straws.

Now when someone sits in the back seat and leaves with sandy french fries on their ass, who can I blame?

Myself???  Oh the horror.

I guess the need for fast food will be out the window anyhow.  What reason will there be for no dinner? Could I say I just didn’t feel like it? Could I say that I spent the day watching television programs and forgot to plan for supper?

I don’t think so.

Oh how I love this new host with Kelly!! I can worry about dinner later…..

It seems to me I have my work cut out for me more than ever before.  Will it ever end??

Sigh.

WELL YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY…BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR!!  RIGHT NOW I WISH FOR YOU TO CLICK THE BANNER BELOW….IT’S THE LEAST YOU CAN DO…

XO LADYGOOGOOGAGA

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