A Cross to Bear

When I am preparing to host an event, things get a little tense around here.

The housecleaning, yard work, meal planning, and thinking of little details like what everyone will wear and what hand towels will go in the bathroom, consume me.  Everything I just mentioned doesn’t really cross Mr. Gaga’s mind at all and he just picks up some beer and tries to just fly under the radar so that I don’t murder him in his sleep.

On a warm day last week I came home from a long day and thought I would take the kids to one of the many frozen yogurt establishments in town.  We had gone to Sweet Frog before and enjoyed it so we headed there after dinner.

The kids filled their cups with a variety of yogurt and toppings and we settled down at a table.  The yogurt is amazing.  Better than Pinkberry, better than any yogurt I have had.  Also, the place is very cozy and there is nice comfortable seating.  We were all going back and forth saying how much we loved it when I looked at the girl ringing up people’s yogurts.

I looked at her shirt and I did a double take.

I stopped eating with my spoon mid-air about to enter my mouth, squinting and looking very carefully at her shirt.

I put down my spoon and leaned forward a bit to get a closer look. I rubbed my eyes like they do in the movies thinking that I was seeing things.

“You guys – what does that girl’s shirt say?”

The boys read the shirt aloud.  I was speechless.

I thought they were just cute frogs that had fake eyelashes and liked yogurt but apparently they have a much deeper meaning….

“I don’t get it ….what does God have to do with yogurt?” I asked the kids as they resumed eating their yogurt.  “Rely on God that it will be good yogurt? I don’t get it!” I kept saying.

They ignored me.

Then I looked on the wall behind the register and saw this:

This says “Serving with eternal everlasting truth fully relying on God”

What the hell?

The other yogurt places I have been have signs about the benefits of probiotics and active cultures!

I was floored.  I looked around…nobody seemed to notice that we were in some sort of cult-like yogurt facility. I looked down at the yogurt.

“Are they trying to save us through the yogurt?” I asked in a whisper to my 6 and 7-year-old boys, who stared back at me cluelessly.

Sam looked up from his yogurt….”Well I don’t know Mom…..but all I know is that God’s yogurt is delicious.”

He had a point.

I finished my yogurt, I mean just because it was cult yogurt doesn’t mean I shouldn’t eat it.

Two days later, I was doing some banking and I saw a strange charge.

Date	Type	Description	Amount	Balance
05/08/2013	Pending	DEBIT HOLD HEAVENLY   DEVINE INTERVEN W. HARTFORD CT	($14.21)

This was the exact amount of the yogurt!

Hello! My YOGURT came up on my bank statement as HEAVENLY DEVINE INTERVENTION!!!!

Again, I rubbed my eyes and blinked fifty times to make it go away, but sure enough it was still there.

I thought – maybe I am seeing things. Maybe it really says “Sweet Frog Yogurt” but I see  “Divine Intervention” because I am going crazy.  Maybe Jesus is sending me a secret message before Michael’s communion.  Maybe I am being saved!

I didn’t have time to think about it too much, I resumed running around like a lunatic getting ready for the party for the remainder of the week.

I did think a couple of times that maybe I was “saved” and just didn’t know it yet.

The night before the party, we had a lot of last minute stuff to do.  I ran around in the backyard potting flowers and setting up tables and I noticed that Mr. Gaga was missing.

I went to the front yard to see that he had dipped into the beer for the party.  He was holding a Corona in one hand and watering miscellaneous grass with the hose in his other hand.

*Apparently when you get saved from heavenly yogurt it doesn’t make you nicer to your husband.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked with potting-soil filled hands on my hips.

(Mr. Gaga doesn’t like it when I yell or swear outside where the neighbors can hear me and I generally don’t care.)

“I’m watering the lawn.”

If I didn’t know better, I would almost think that he WANTS us to get divorced…..

“I don’t give a flying fuck if every motherfucking blade of grass in this lawn explodes into flames on Monday!” I screamed very loudly. “Get in the backyard and help me!”

Tumbleweeds rolled by and neighbors stared.

We didn’t really speak much for the rest of the night.

In the morning I woke up at 6:30 to go pick up the cake and finish setting up for the party.  I had ordered an Italian cake with strawberries and peaches and whipped cream in the shape of a cross for 60-80 people.  When I realized that the number of people attending would actually be 45, I tried to make the cake smaller.  When the bakery informed me that a smaller cake could not be made into the shape of a cross, I stuck with the larger size cross with “God Bless Michael” written across it.

What I hadn’t considered was that it would weigh about 75 pounds and fill the entire trunk of my car.

I drove home carefully and thought as I pulled into the driveway that I had nowhere to put the cake.  I entered the house and headed downstairs to see if the basement fridge could accommodate this huge cross.

I put my bag down and tried to squeeze the box into the narrow space.  The box got stuck halfway .  I tried to pick the box up a bit and push it on an angle and it got stuck further.  The more I pushed the more the box was folding in and possibly ruining the frosting and writing.

I started to sweat and call Mr. Gaga.

I tried to pull the box out and balance the cross on my knee while saying every curse word I could think of.  By the time Mr. Gaga came down I was trying to push the box in backwards with my butt.

*Apparently when you get saved by yogurt you don’t really stop cursing.

“Why do we have a fucking stupid piece of shit refrigerator that doesn’t actually fit food?” I yelled.

“I want a divorce What’s the problem, now?”  he asked with exasperation.

“This fucking cross won’t fit in this asshole fridge.” I said with despair.

“I’ll take care of it – just go get ready,” he said sensing my pending nervous breakdown.

That was basically the last calamity and we all got dressed and got to the ceremony on time.

The ceremony went well, Michael did not sip from the filthy swine flu cup as I instructed him and everything ran smoothly.

We got home a little late but my sister-in-law helped me put out a cheese platter that had all of the meats in the shape of a cross which was perfect.

I had the tables set up with beautiful flowers, candles and wine bottles that were teals and yellows.  The red wine bottles had gorgeous crosses on the label.

I took pictures of everything and the party went off without a hitch. The weather was perfect and the food was perfect….(maybe the yogurt really was saving me after all.)

Even the cake wasn’t too mangled from the basement drama.

I had time to run around taking candids of our family and of Michael and Sam and it was a great day.

When everyone left and the kids were in bed I went to download all 50 pictures from my iPhone to see how fat I looked relive the glory of this holy day.

Somehow in the transfer process from phone to computer they got DELETED!!!

“WHY GOD?? WHY??”

I got a cake in the shape of a cross!

I fought with other mothers to get the perfect date for my son’s first holy communion!!

I served prosciutto fashioned into a huge cross!!

This is the thanks I get?

I tried to take pictures of what was left after the party – but somehow it doesn’t seem quite the same.

Here’s a part of the cake….

I went to bed disgruntled and exhausted.

In the morning we all woke up late. I was so tired, I barely put makeup on, threw my hair up and went to head out to work.

I realized quickly that my bag was missing with my wallet, and basically my life in it.  I searched everywhere.  I went outside and checked the car and it wasn’t there.

I started to have heart palpitations and a pit started to grow in my stomach.

Mr. Gaga picked up the phone on one ring, “Good morning,” he answered cheerfully.

“Someone stole my bag!” I said frantically rummaging through my closet and looking under my bed. “I have searched the entire house!”

He calmly reminded me how I had come in the day before swearing and acting like a maniac in the basement with the cake.

I ran to the basement and what do you know…next to the fridge….there was my bag.

He is a pretty smart guy.

“Oh thank God, ok have a good day!” I said rushing to get in the car.

“Wait…so were you about to accuse our families of stealing your pocketbook?” Mr. Gaga demanded with disgust.

“Um….well…yes……or maybe the caterer?” I answered weakly.

It was at that moment that I realized no matter how much Sweet Frog yogurt someone consumes….some people just can’t be saved.

PLEASE CLICK ON THE BANNER BELOW TO AT LEAST SAVE MY PLACE ON THE TOP MOMMY BLOGS!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

Why my kids are lucky to have me….

The other day at the store Michael was pointing to something in the deli case.

“Mom kids in my class have this for lunch all the time…I want to get that.” he said.

“Absolutely not.” I said as I  pushed the cart away, “When you see children that have that for lunch it means that their mother doesn’t love them…see how lucky you are to have me?”

He nodded and seemed to understand.

It reminded me in general as Mother’s Day approaches just how incredibly lucky Michael and Sam are to have me….

I am going to repost from last Mother’s Day my list of reasons why…..

TOP TEN REASONS WHY MY KIDS ARE LUCKY THAT I AM THEIR MOTHER:

1 – Of course – just stating the obvious here – but even though I am Italian and spent many years going tanning my kids are lucky enough that I don’t  roast them in a tanning bed.

2 – I let my children choose from refreshing beverages like milk or water and I give them Flintstones Vitamins with Extra C to build immunity! I don’t breastfeed them until they are old enough to have one hand on a Wii controller and the other on my boob.

3 – If I did do something that could potentially scar them for life or embarrass them in front of their friends, I wouldn’t let some magazine reporter and photographer document said activity and publish it for the world to see.  I would not do that even if it was for the cover of TIME Magazine, because although I have a blog which could be seen as a touch narcissistic, I am not a complete asshole.

4 – I actually spend time with my kids. I take them to the park, or read books to them, or take them to the library instead of spending my time  “bullet-ing” all day like  many mothers in America.

5 – I could possibly be considered a “milf.”  This is especially noticeable when compared to the “milgamo’s” around this town.    (“Milgamo” stands for – “moms I’d like to give a make-over.) This doesn’t necessarily mean much – but when the kids are older I am sure they will take comfort in knowing that when I pick them up from school I won’t be wearing ‘mom-jeans.”

6 – Even though other mothers in town seem to “forget” to comb their children’s hair or let their hair grow to the floor because  “Johnny doesn’t like getting his hair cut,” I get my boys frequent haircuts and comb their hair regularly.

I think it is important that they don’t look like drag queens on heroin at the bus stop - (like many young boys do these days.)

This is another little first grade boy that often sits next to my son on the bus….

7 – I make sure that my children are not fat and lazy.  On nice days I often send them outside and lock all the doors, keeping them out for long stretches of time.

When they try to come inside and watch television or play video games, I yell and say “Do you want to be fat and lazy like all of your friends? Do you??” and shove them back out the door.

8 -I don’t really make them go to church.  My father made me go every living Sunday of my life. I think my kids are pretty lucky that I am too lazy and tired and not-god-fearing enough, to make them go.  When we do go on occasion, if they laugh and act crazy, I probably join in instead of yelling at them.  (Sorry Jesus.)

9 – I keep it real.  I don’t hide the nitty-gritty facts of life.  The threat that my children might some day really end up in “bad boy school,” keeps  everyone on their toes around here.  “Bad boy school” is a place that my mother-in-law taught me about.  It is a place where boys go when they are mean and rotten and can be conveniently seen from the highway!  I drive fast enough by it that they never really get a good look.

I always say “Oh look I see little sad faces peeking out the windows….See them??”

They always look out the window frantically with looks of horror – and say “Yes! I see them!!”

Otherwise known as the Colt Building in Hartford, it’s the “Bad Boy School” in the Gaga household. I always say as we drive by – “There it is kids! Keep it up and that’s where you will be living soon!”

10- I BLOG about my life and theirs – so they will have plenty of evidence of what a good mother I am and how much I love them!!!

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY TO ALL OF THE MOMS! AND AS A MOTHER’S DAY GIFT TO ME – PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW!!!XOXO, LADYGOOGOOGAGA

Last night….

….I couldn’t do a blog post.

I hosted Michael’s First Communion party yesterday.

I am sharing with you my post from a few months back to refresh your memory about how this all started and then I will tell you about the party later.

Being a good Catholic is exhausting…..

No wonder the Pope quit.

REPOSTED FROM JANUARY 2013:

Michael has his First Communion coming up.

This is a big deal.

For most good Catholics it’s because it’s an important sacrament that means something important I am sure…..

For me it’s important because I have to start thinking about the food and decor I need to have for 100 people at my house, and make sure it doesn’t conflict with the millions of other obligations that we have in the spring and summer.

I had to attend an important meeting at the church this week outlining all of the details about the ceremony and also to secure a date.

First topic of discussion was First Reconciliation.  This is when the children have to go meet with the priest and confess their sins.

I remember when I had to do this as a small child, being so afraid and nervous I  as I approached the confessional with sweaty palms and a pit in my stomach.

I told the priest that I was “sometimes mean to my mother,” and he told me that if I just said the “Our Father” three times then I would be totally forgiven.

I was so relieved.

Needless to say, in this day and age, this kind of torment is not favored by parents.

Parents were raising their hands at the meeting saying “How can we be sure that the children are comfortable and not nervous?”

“Can we be 100 percent sure that the priest will tell them they are forgiven?”

“I remember being very stressed about this, I DO NOT want that for my child.”

UM HELLO???? THIS IS CATHOLICISM PEOPLE!!!

IT’S NOT MEANT TO MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD!

IT IS MEANT TO MAKE YOU FILLED WITH GUILT AND ANXIETY FOREVER.

Then of course there was the topic of wardrobe.

Of course if you saw the picture of the Dad at my son’s baseball game then you know that this is a town filled with primarily Vineyard Vines and JCrew.  Nobody wears makeup….nobody combs their daughter’s hair….I could go on for hours.

But anyways – there comes a debate about headpieces.  A bunch of mothers said “Yes” to headpieces, and then it started.

“Well, my daughter would never wear something in her hair.”

“I don’t ever make my daughter wear something she doesn’t want to!”

“Well what should I do if she says that she won’t wear it??”

I told you I didn’t want to wear this headpiece MOTHER!! I look like a WHORE! When I grow up I am being a Scientologist!!!

 

I wanted to stand up and say “Look!! If your child is Catholic they have to make a confession to a creepy priest that could possibly be a pedophile and they have to wear a creepy bride-like head-piece that means they are marrying Jesus!! Deal with it you assholes! And if you don’t like it – then go be Jewish!! And have fun with 10 hours a week of Hebrew school and if you think our headpieces our bad – good luck with those hats and barrette clips they wear!!

NOW JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP SO I CAN SIGN UP FOR MY CEREMONY DATE AND THEN I CAN HIRE A CATERER AND ORDER A CAKE!!”

But I didn’t say that.

I just looked at my phone waiting for everyone to stop whining and complaining.

There were 2 available dates in May to have the First Communion ceremony and one is Mother’s Day.  Again, some nice Catholic mothers I am told, actually enjoy having this precious ceremony on Mother’s Day.

I am not that type of mother.

On Mother’s Day I would like to eat a nice brunch, (something a little more substantial than a communion wafer) and enjoy my life…not sit in a sweaty church for an hour and half and then entertain 100 people in my backyard.

It was imperative that I get my name on the list for the first weekend in May.

I was pretty much willing to do anything to get it.

As the “church lady” spoke I adjusted my chair to be at the best angle to pop up from it and sprint to the sign-up table. I envisioned elbowing people or tripping them to be sure that I could get up front in a speedy fashion.

At the end of the meeting, the Church Lady asked that we bow our heads and say a prayer.

She also asked that we allow her time to move from the table before we swarmed and knocked her over.

I don’t even think anyone said “Amen” at the end of the prayer and that bitch didn’t have a fighting chance of escaping.

People were fucking INSANE!!! There was no mercy!! No forgiveness!!

I witnessed no behaviors that Jesus likes!!!

These women ended up not getting the date they wanted because they had to be rushed to the emergency room..The cross above their heads is a symbol of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Jesus died on the cross for us. On nights like this one, I am sure he’s wondering if that was a bad move….

 

I ran so fast to the table, and yet I could feel a crowd forming around me as I got to the front of the room.   People were pushing and shoving and hands were sticking into the space where the sign-up sheets were, grabbing at the pens on the table.

A pregnant friend was in front of me with a pencil ready to sign-up when we reached the table.  She was the first to get the paper, and I was behind her, I was so set.

“Give me that pencil when you are done,” I yelled in her ear above the noise of the crowd.

But as she signed her child’s name to the sheet, it was clear, that there was no way she would be able to hand me anything…..the crowd was too rough. She was jostled and pushed aside…I tried to grab for the pencil out of her hand but she got swept away.

There goes the pencil…..

I would just have to just grab the sheet myself.

A different woman had gotten control of the sheet and I pushed underneath her arms as she was writing and I quickly signed on the bottom of the sheet, in the last slot, before anyone else could think of it.

Thank you Jesus.

For understanding that it’s very important to celebrate your body in wafer-form only on specific days.

Thank you for answering my prayers and not punishing me for my sometimes less than devout behaviors…

We will be there on our desired date with bells on.

THANKS FOR UNDERSTANDING MY EXHAUSTION!!! BEING A CATHOLIC MOTHER IS VERY HARD….XO LADY GOO GOO GAGA

Crying…America’s favorite past-time

All around America little children were crying this weekend, shitting their pants, and refusing to follow rules.

Was it the first day of preschool or lots of really bad playdates?

No.

It was “Opening Day” of baseball of course!!!

This is the start of baseball season.  A sport that is beloved by so many adults in the US that they sign their children up and drag them to a field weekly so that they can display bad behavior dressed up like Derek Jeter.

Mr. Gaga is a coach for Sam’s team of kindergarteners.

Most of them don’t know why they are there.

Most of them don’t listen.

Most of them are not capable of hitting or catching or running.

Saturday the little boy who was playing first base spent the entire game playing in the dirt around the base.

Mr. Gaga told him to stop.

The next time he looked the kid was back down on all fours rubbing dirt all over first base.

Mr. Gaga told him to get up.

The next batter came up to the plate, Mr. Gaga looked and the kid was making a sandcastle on the base.

He told him to stop making sandcastles.

The next time he looked…this is what he saw on first base.

At this point he just gave up….

When he looked over to see if the kid’s parents might mind that he was pretending to be at a beach instead of playing baseball he realized quickly there was no hope.

So then the next batter was up and Mr. Gaga didn’t bother with the first base kid.

The kid on the opposite team hit the ball and ran to first base.

This was major.

This kid must understand the game of baseball!

He must be decent at hitting AND running in the right direction!!

When he got to first base he stood on the base with pride.

Then he pissed his pants.

He stood there for a bit and then went to cry to his mother, but that part is not important.

What happened next was fascinating.

When the next batter got up and Mr. Gaga looked over at “sandcastle boy” he had mixed the urine puddle with the dirt to create a muddy texture perfect for sandcastle building.

Mr. Gaga didn’t bother trying to stop him and his parents were probably too busy playing Angry Birds to notice.

Finally Mr. Gaga did the right thing!!

He is WAY too nice to these fat losers little baseball players and their asshole parents    moms and dads.

Everyone in town should count their blessings that it is MR. and not MRS. Gaga that is the coach of this team of urine lovers.

Even the older kids still have some issues.

On Michael’s team of 8 YEAR OLD BOYS, every time one of the boys had to go on the field….HIS MOTHER HELD HIS HAND AND PHYSICALLY BROUGHT HIM OUT.

And there is still an awful lot of crying in baseball.  There was crying because they didn’t want to play, crying because they were out, crying because they didn’t hit the ball, crying because they pissed their pants…..

What I would pay to have this guy come and scream at all the kids….

And one last perk to all of this of course……Just like last season.

It’s a tie.

Every game.

Because…….

“If you had fun….you won.”

Can you believe this horse shit?

What will happen when all these little pissy pants kids have to face the world??

God forbid when they ever lose…they are in for a real shock.

Because in real life when you spend your entire lesson game rolling around in dirt and piss….

Well…..you get some sort of bacterial infection and you lose.

No news is good news

Yet another bad week for America.

Just when I thought it was safe to turn on the news, yet another unspeakable tragedy has occurred.

When I was growing up the news was always on.

The Today Show was on in the morning.  Even if we weren’t watching, Bryant Gumbel and Jane Pauly’s voices served as background noise for most mornings of my childhood.

At night, the background noise was provided by the nightly news with Tom Brokaw or Dan Rather.  There voices would drone on while my mother made dinner every night and we played or did our homework.

That would never happen in this house.

I actually turn on the news in the morning to get a weather report (lord knows we need that around here) and quickly turn the channel the minute Matt Lauer shows his face.

Once actual news starts I immediately turn to something that’s good for children, like Spongebob Squarepants.

I just don’t want them to find out about how horrible the world is before it’s necessary.  Why should they have to worry that they might be murdered at school or at the movie theater?

So, I shelter them….maybe sometimes too much.

The very first time I knew that my children were very sheltered was when they watched the movie “Annie.”  I thought they would enjoy it, because let’s face it, what’s more fun that belting out “The sun will come out tomorrow?”

Who hasn’t pretended to be an overworked orphan singing “Hard Knock Life?”  What children wouldn’t love this cinematic production?

Um…mine.

We had to keep pausing it for their panic-stricken interrogations.

“But Mom where are her parents?”

“Um.. I’m not sure.”

“Well, are they going to come get Annie and take her home?”

“Probably not….”

“But…are they dead???” the two boys asked with pale-faced horror.

“Umm…I think maybe….”

“WHY???!!!!”

And so on and so on….they couldn’t even enjoy the movie because they were so distraught that Annie’s parents had died.

I guess I hadn’t considered that there has been such a shift in children’s movies that they would find this alarming.  Today’s movies and shows for kids depict life as pretty safe and fun.  Nothing terrible ever happens.

That wasn’t the case in the 80′s.

When I was growing up Bambi’s mother got shot with a gun right in front of her, Cinderella’s mother died and left her to be raised by a wicked stepmother, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz had no parents and had to live with her old aunt and uncle and even the Sound of Music children’s mother was dead.

I am sure nobody ever said, “We shouldn’t let the kids watch this movie because they will be upset.”

Growing up I really thought at any given moment my parents could perish and I would be an orphan.  That was real life.

If my kids saw this they would go completely insane….Really the baby curling up for a nap in its mother’s pool of blood IS a bit much Disney…..

Even as I got older the trend continued.

The Brady boys on the Brady Bunch had no mother.

Arnold and Willis’ mom in Diff’rent Strokes passed away when they were young and left them with some old white guy.

The kids in Gimme a Break had to be raised by their housekeeper when their mom kicked the bucket.

Samantha Micelli’s mother from Who’s the Boss…dead.

Webster’s real parents…dead.

We didn’t even care that all mothers in the television universe were dead!

I was too busy being jealous of how much fun it would be to live with Uncle Jesse to worry about the fact that the girls’ mother in Full House was dead as a doornail.

Another lucky girl was Nicole from My Two Dads, whose mother croaked and left her with 2 really cool dads!!

And the coolest and luckiest girl on the planet was none other than Punky Brewster.  Please read the following description from IMDB of my favorite show when I was 7 years old.

“Punky Brewster” (1984) More at IMDbPro »

Punky Brewster is a show about a girl named Penelope “Punky” Brewster. She is abandoned with her dog, Brandon, in a supermarket by her mother. She doesn’t want to stay in an orphanage, and finally befriends Henry Warnimont who adopts her.

WHAT THE FUCK???

If my kids ever caught wind of this show, they would never go to Trader Joe’s with me again!

I was so jealous of Punky and her treehouse and her mismatched hair elastics and clothes…I didn’t give two shits that she got left at a store and was residing with a child molester….

Blossom’s mother didn’t even have the decency to die, she just flat out left Blossom and her brothers in the dust and moved to Paris.

We thought we were safe with a show that was actually called “Valerie’s Family,” but no sorry….she died too.

The producers thought if they just changed the show’s name and showed their aunt in the opening credits playing football with the family…nobody would mind the mom being dead.      They were right.

Interestingly enough, I hadn’t realized that I spent my entire childhood watching motherless children navigate the world, until right now.

It’s making me think my kids should toughen up and watch the news.

But then last week I accidentally told them about something in the news and it didn’t go well.  When they started to step into a sink-hole in my neighbor’s yard on the way to the bus stop I freaked out.

“Don’t do that!” I yelled frantically.

“Why?” they asked with their feet raised about to jump in.

Wanting to really be effective in my explanation I said, “It could open up and swallow you up and you could die!”

“How do you know?” Michael asked fearfully.

Against my better judgement, (and we were on our way to the bus stop - so you know that’s not when I am at my best) I said:

“Well a man in Florida was sleeping and a sinkhole under his bed opened up and swallowed him and his house and he died.”

They stared back at me wide-eyed and started peering down into the hole.

Alright, this seems small and admittedly I should maybe lay off the news myself..but you just never know these days….

There have been nights that they say they can’t sleep because they are afraid of sinkholes.

Before Disney, they cried and said they didn’t want to go because they could die in Florida.

And the best was when Sam decided he was going to participate in the “Tell” part of Show and Tell and started to “tell” his kindergarten class about the man in Florida.

What proves to me that I am right to shelter my kids is that the kindergarten teacher realized what Sam was about to say and quickly whisked him away and changed the subject before 20 children could lose sleep from enjoy his story.

Mention current events again and your expelled….Got it??

THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS GOING OUT TO ALL OF THE VICTIMS OF THE BOSTON MARATHON TRAGEDY….HERE’S HOPING FOR A “BREAKING NEWS”-FREE WEEK!!!  PLEASE SHARE THIS POST ON FACEBOOK IF YOU REMEMBER THESE SHOWS!!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

What I learned about human beings in Disney World

I don’t want you to think by last week’s post I didn’t enjoy my vacation to Disney World with my family.  I have to say I was pleasantly surprised by how much fun we had.

I was envisioning myself miserably waiting on long lines in the heat surrounded by people gnawing on turkey legs.

Wait…that is what happened, but somehow it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.

Plus all along I kept thinking about all the material I was gathering for my blog!!

All that waiting in line sure did give me a picture of human behavior.  I took a few pictures to capture what I was seeing, the funniest thing is that I took pictures of people right up in their grill and none of them noticed!!

I guess it was the magic of Disney!

TEN THINGS I LEARNED ABOUT HUMANS IN DISNEY WORLD:

1 – Crying children don’t bother people:

It actually started on the plane.  There was a baby crying nonstop on the plane.  It was making my skin crawl and when I looked around to see if everyone was annoyed, it seemed nobody cared.

Then when we got to Disney World people were constantly strolling around screaming babies.  Toddlers would have full-blown melt-downs at every turn, and the parents could be seen happily posing in front of Cinderella’s castle with Mickey ears on, as though all was right with the world.

The best was the people who dragged crying toddlers through a line for a ride that they didn’t want to go on.  The kid would be screaming that he hated Pirates in line for Pirates of the Caribbean, and the parents would just be ignoring him, pushing him through the line nonchalantly.

2-People are generally very hungry and thirsty:

I mentioned last week how alarmed I was to find that everyone drank enormous sodas all day in Disney World.  I also found it interesting that people seemed to need lots of snacks throughout the day.  People milled around eating ice cream, popcorn, pretzels, and of course, huge turkey legs.

We kind of got sucked in to this non-stop eating.  Any beverage or snack we purchased was always marketed as being “refillable.” Apparently people just love “refilling” every open container they own.

For example, we bought a small plastic container of popcorn for $8 and then we were able to refill it all day for 99 cents a refill.    We ate our weight in popcorn that day.

Mr. Gaga bought a “refillable” pilsner glass that proved to be very enjoyable as well.

3 – Couples go on romantic getaways to Disney World:

To each his own, but I don’t quite understand how this could be a romantic getaway.  Have I mentioned the screaming toddlers? The huge beverages?  The enormous people running over your toes with their motorized carts?

How about Aruba or Turks and Caicos for your romantic pleasures?

That way when we are in line for a ride, we don’t have to look at this:

I am sorry – but get a room please….and also while you are at it can you please wear shorts and a shirt that fit? People who are behind you in line for 45 minutes with their children shouldn’t have to look at this.

4 – People are obsessed with Mickey Mouse:

The joy that people get from this mouse and his friends is shocking.  When the characters come out people wait in line for hours to get their autograph!!!

I find this amazing.  I hate to be “Debbie Downer” but, we all know that this is some weird guy in a mouse suit right?

And the ears? People wear those ears like nobody’s business.  It’s like when people walk around with Santa Hats on at Christmastime, they think it’s perfectly normal just to walk around pretending that they are Mickey Mouse all day.

This is a very common scene…tremendously large humans with Mickey Mouse ears on with huge sodas….

5 – Pregnant women can be unstoppable:

Kudos to the dozens of pregnant women I saw pushing strollers, waiting in lines, eating turkey legs…..

Sorry, but if I was pregnant this place would seem like hell on earth.

I would be puffy from all the popcorn and the heat, my feet would be swollen, my legs would hurt and I would probably want to cry myself from all of the crying children.  Oh yeah, and guess what?

You can’t go on rides when you’re pregnant so you can spend your time in the stroller park waiting for the rest of your party.

6 - What’s a stroller park you ask?

It’s where you park your stroller while you go on a ride.

This is a typical group of strollers outside a ride….

One might think that strollers would be limited to children that are very small and need to be strolled around due to size and age.  That is not the case.

Apparently in America, there is no size or age to large for a stroller.

Humongous children are placed in double strollers in Disney World and pushed around by their indulgent parents so that the children don’t have to get too tired or exert themselves too much.

It can prove difficult to navigate through the park, watching out for lazy people in motorized carts and these parents and their adult-sized children in strollers.

Even yelling out “What the fuck?!” loudly as a woman ran over my entire foot with her man-child in a stroller, didn’t stop her as she zipped off into the sunset.

I mean look how much larger she is than the stroller!! She’s a tween for god sakes!! If that guy let’s go – the whole thing will tip over!

Just an idea….they should call it “Stroller World.”

7 – People are good:

I don’t know if it was because everyone is under some sort of magical spell or something, but people were so nice and so pleasant in Disney World.  Any staff we encountered were very helpful and cheerful, and happy!

Also, in stroller world, people leave their strollers out unattended with cameras, bags, baby supplies, etc.  and nobody worries about stealing!

It’s a downright utopia!

8 – Injuries do not deter people from enjoying Disney World:

I don’t know what is happening in this country, maybe people aren’t being careful…maybe they aren’t drinking enough milk and their bones aren’t up to par….but I have never seen so many injured people in my life.

Everywhere I looked people with broken limbs were hopping on rides and gnawing on turkey legs!

People with casts for broken bones or other serious injuries could be found in every line.  Take it easy people! Maybe you should be home resting!!

They all just limp along finding another ride to go on or turkey bone to lick…

Look how this guy balances his massive soda with a broken hand!! These injured people are so determined!!!

9 – It’s a great place to cure yourself of OCD:

If I pump gas or touch a cart at the grocery store, I can’t even think straight until I douse myself and the children with gallons of hand sanitizer.  We recently went bowling and I scrubbed inside all the holes in the balls before I would let the kids use them.  I went to Disney World armed with wipes and hand sanitizer galore.  It proved to be fruitless.

The very first ride we went on was Star Tours in Hollywood Studios.  When we got through the line, and were about to go on the ride, we were told to grab a pair of 3D glasses.  I stared helplessly at the glasses and weighed the options.

Could I convince my family to go on the ride without glasses to avoid the bacteria that was thriving on these plastic germ-bombs?

I took a deep breath and put them on and enjoyed the ride.  I soon realized that every other ride we went on required these disgusting glasses and that we had to touch filthy seatbelts and get splashed with filthy water and sit on filthy seats throughout the day.

It was hopeless.  I threw in the towel to the point where I stopped even feeling dirty.

When we got to Mexico in Epcot I only thought about lice for a fleeting moment as I snapped this picture of Michael and Sam.

10 –People like to waste their money:

Everywhere you turn there is Disney World merchandise for sale.  It’s insane.  Everywhere you turn your kids are asking for something.  Everywhere you turn people are buying the craziest Mickey Mouse stuff.

I have enough problems with my messy house, the last thing I need is 4 pairs of Mickey Mouse ears lying around….

Or Pirates of the Caribbean swords…..

Or pirate hooks…..

Or two $25 light sabers…..

Or Star Wars light saber key chains

Or Disney World refrigerator magnets

Or a Universal Studios mug…..

Or a Mickey Mouse Christmas ornament…..

Or Mickey Mouse salt and pepper shakers…..

Or a Spongebob ball

Or a Japanese headband from Epcot

Or a Mexican instrument-thingy of some sort from Epcot

Or a Spongebob shirt

Well what do you know…I got the merchandise fever and purchased everything listed above…..

like an idiot.

WELL ACTUALLY AT LEAST I HAD THE GOOD SENSE TO NOT BUY THE $25 MOUSE EARS!!!!  CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME!!  THANK YOU!!!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

Mayor Bloomberg would hate Disney World

I have a great reason for not blogging last week. I was collecting material for my blog, enjoying a wonderful vacation to Disney World with my family.
There’s just so much to talk about it is hard to pin it all down into one post. Today I am going to discuss our “meal plan” that was part of our vacation package. (You know I love to talk about food.)
The plan we had allowed us to each have one snack, one full service meal, and one “quick-service” meal per day.   Our first day we got off the plane and went straight to the park, arriving into Disney around 11 AM. After a couple of hours we were hungry so we decided to stop and utilize a “quick service” meal. This had been described to us as something that can be ordered at a counter, such as a hot dog or sandwich.

We found a place that looked pretty good and I ordered hot dogs for the kids and sandwiches for Mr. Gaga and myself.

I was informed by the girl taking the order that the meals would all come with fries and drinks.
“Great!” I said to the girl as she grabbed a tray and I started to swipe my card.
“Wait, what desserts would you like?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You all get desserts…we have cheesecake, chocolate mousse cake or crème brulee.”
I stared blankly.

Who the hell eats crème brulee in the middle of the day in sunny 85 degree weather?
“What?” I asked, stalling for time as a crowd formed behind me. She repeated the choices, I made a decision finally, sensing the people in the line behind me were losing patience.
Mr. Gaga had taken the tray by then and had filled everyone’s drinks. I headed back to the table with enough food to feed an army. Mr. Gaga was grabbing condiments and napkins and I looked up to see Michael heading towards me with a tray of the largest beverages I have ever seen.

The tray was leaning dangerously towards the ground. The weight of the insanely large drinks was too much for his little arms.
Before I could help him the tray tipped and a huge tidal wave of diet coke came towards me and Sam.

We screamed. “Help me Mama!” cried Sam as the soda tsunami came rushing towards him. I couldn’t save him, and before we knew it we were both drenched with soda.

The soda was so large that when it spilled one of the rides had to be shut down for the rest of the day….

We stared at Michael who stood holding the empty tray limply. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes.
“It’s ok Michael, it was an accident,” I said as I started to wipe up the table. Mr. Gaga came strolling over at this point. “It’s your father’s fault for making you carry 50 gallons of soda alone.” I said with disgust while I wrung out my shirt.
“I told him to wait for me!” Mr. Gaga protested.
“Well who the fuck drinks this much soda in the first place?” I demanded pointing to the enormous cups that had fallen off the tray.
“It’s the size that comes with the lunch!” he said defensively.
That’s the size that comes with the lunch? So every meal we order comes with a beverage filled with high fructose corn syrup as big as my house?
Call me Mayor Bloomberg but I found this highly problematic.

We all sat down and started eating.

“You talk about me getting big sodas…why did you buy 4 chocolate cakes?” Mr. Gaga asked me with disgust.

I looked at all of the food and drinks.  “They made me.” I answered helplessly.
That night we checked into the hotel and upon check in they handed us 4 huge Mickey Mouse mugs.

“What are these for?” I asked.
“Oh they are refillable! You can fill them up all day and night for free throughout your stay at the hotel!”
“How many fucking beverages does a human being need around here?” I asked Mr. Gaga as I tossed the cups into a bag in our room.

The next morning as we were in line for our shuttle we noticed everyone was drinking coffee out of their refillable mugs. That was a good idea. Later in the afternoon, I filled mine with ice coffee by the pool.

Oh and by the way – I should have known we were in trouble when this is LITERALLY what one of the pools at our hotel looked like…..

Mr. Gaga came strolling over with the kids all drinking out of their enormous mugs. The kids had root beer and he had yet another enormous diet coke.
“Why do you keep drinking so much diet coke?” I demanded. “Your committing suicide….”
He shrugged, “I don’t want to drink anything with sugar,” he said as he guzzled it down.
“You are like all the rest of these soda-guzzling Americans, do you know that there’s no sugar but there’s like battery acid and tar remover in there? You are going to die! You can’t drink any more diet coke the rest of the vacation!” I pleaded.
The next day I ordered a club soda with my meal.
“We don’t offer club soda,” the waitress answered. “You can buy a bottled water for 3 bucks.”
This is a common trend. If you don’t choose to drink an Atlantic Ocean size drink of soda, then you are penalized. I accepted my fate and paid for water.
Mind you I have told you all many times I am a fat person with baby weight that I still haven’t lost since I had my six-year-old son….however I try to make somewhat sane decisions when I am consuming food and beverages. Drinking soda morning, noon and night somehow seems like insane behavior to me.

By the end of the trip I gave up and just sat on my bed and drank soda all night like it was my job….

I come from a town where if you don’t buy everything from Whole Foods then you are a moron. People here would lump high fructose corn syrup into the same categories they would put guns and crystal meth. To be surrounded by crowds of people who just down soda with reckless abandon is startling.
Was this an accurate picture of America. Do Americans really just guzzle soda all day by the gallon?
Well, I hate to say it, but by the size of the humans that were walking around, zipping around on motorized carts, in Disney World, then yes….yes they do.
Everywhere we went we were met with hoards of overweight people with Mickey Mouse ears on and fanny packs strapped onto their motorized carts.

This is a very common scene…tremendously large humans with Mickey Mouse ears on with huge sodas….These people only left their carts so they could get a good seat for the parade.

“I’m sorry did I miss the episode of the Mickey Mouse Club when Mickey announced he loved fat people and soda?” I asked Mr. Gaga. “I don’t get it.” I said to Mr. Gaga as we were making our way through the crowds of obese people.
“Well they are fat because they drink soda and the fact that they are so fat and lazy that they can’t walk doesn’t help,” he pointed out.
I looked around and realized at the moment that about half of the people in the park were driving carts and half were walking.
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed, “I thought everyone was injured!”
Mr. Gaga stared at me like I was an idiot.

When I looked a little closer I realized nobody even had a band-aid on, let alone anything that indicated a real injury!!

After a few days in the Magic Kingdom we made our way to Epcot Center.
“Hey did you notice there aren’t any motorized carts here?” Mr. Gaga pointed out.
“Oh yeah…I wonder why?” I said as I looked over the map of the Epcot. “Oh!! I bet we will see them in “America!”

After enjoying music, culture and food in Japan, France, Italy and Mexico I was afraid to see what “America” had to offer.

“It’s just going to be big enormous people laying on couches everywhere eating McDonalds and drinking huge sodas.” I said to Mr. Gaga as we made our way.

“Or enormous children playing video games,” Mr. Gaga offered.

We were pleasantly surprised that neither of those features were the focus of the America showcase in Epcot.

Thank God….it would be totally embarrassing if the world found out the truth about us.

It’s best to keep this little soda problem a secret between you, me, Mickey Mouse and Mayor Bloomberg.

There’s plenty more to discuss about Disney World and America….stay tuned in my next post when I discuss more disturbing human behaviors that I witnessed on my trip!

SINCE I INCLUDE MYSELF IN THE FAT CATEGORY YOU CANNOT GET MAD AT ME FOR MAKING FUN OF ALL THE MOTORIZED CART RIDERS IN DISNEY!!!  PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW!!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

I’m not so sure I’m buying this Good Friday thing….

A friend recently said her daughter was asking why they had Good Friday off of school.

“I didn’t know the answer…do you?” she asked me.
“Um – no, I have no idea,” I replied.

I went home and asked Mr. Gaga and he reminded me that it’s the day that Jesus died on the cross.

“But do we know that’s true, or is it just like folklore?” I asked him while we got dinner ready.

“It’s in the bible.” he answered.

“But that doesn’t make it true for sure….Did a human being die on a wooden cross on this day definitely? I mean schools and the bank are closed….” I demanded.
“YES!!” he answered impatiently.

I’m sorry but if the Bank of America is closed and there is no mail – I think we should have some cold hard evidence, call me crazy.

I was pondering this when it all came back to me.

This is the holiday when Jesus supposedly escaped from a cave!  Last year when Mr. Gaga taught me what Easter was all about I was shocked.  I thought it would be nice to repost this year for a little refresher course on Easter.

Enjoy!

BAD CATHOLIC EASTER EDITION (REPOSTED FROM 2012)

I have been learning so much about religion now that Michael is in CCD and it’s interesting to view Catholic traditions through his eyes.

For example, during the Superbowl we were watching the half-time show (obvi – I love me some Madge) and Michael asked

“Why is Cee Lo wearing a dress?”

“It’s not really a dress, it’s like…you know the same thing that priests wear.” I answered distractedly.

“Ooohh,” he answered knowingly. “You mean a Snuggie…..”

“Um – I think they are called habits or something….” I answered trying to watch the show.

“What?” he asked.

He was totally ruining my Madonna time – “Yes – priests wear Snuggies, just sit down and watch the show.”

The Catholic church has enough issues as it is. If I saw this creepy weirdo coming at me with communion – I would run for my life.

I also just recently found out the actual details about this whole Easter situation. My Catholic friends from college couldn’t believe I didn’t know this story – but apparently I really didn’t pay much attention in church or CCD!

“So today He woke up?” I asked Mr. Gaga at breakfast while the kids poured out the contents of their Easter baskets.

“He rose again and ascended into heaven.” Mr. Gaga replied not looking up from the sports section.

“Well did He wake up in the cave and at least go into town and say like

“Ha-ha suckers! Who has two thumbs and totally isn’t nailed to a cross with a thorn hat anymore?”

“Noooo, He “ascended into heaven.” he said impatiently.

“What? How do we know?” I asked with shock.

“Because the rock in front of the cave was moved.” he replied.

“What???? That’s all the evidence we have??? This whole day is based on a moved rock?? I thought this was confirmed…..I at least thought someone saw him like roaming the streets…..”

Mr. Gaga just stared at me unfazed by my revelation.

Hmmm, I don’t know if I am buying this story now.

Anyways – regardless if the Jesus story is true or not – at the very least, Easter marks the end of a dreadful time known as Lent.

Lent isn’t necessarily so bad – but it’s quite unenjoyable when you live with a husband who is allergic to all shellfish, and children that decide you should give up chocolate for Lent and watch you like hawks to make sure you never cheat.

During this time – we also were responsible for collecting money in an “Operation Rice Bowl” that Michael brought home from CCD.

It is a little cardboard box with a picture of a starving child on it, with a slot on the top for coins, and the money goes to Catholic Relief Services.

Thankfully, my cousin came over one day and got guilted by Michael into pouring her entire wallet of change into the box and we were pretty much done with our collection. The kids were fascinated by the box.

“Why do we have to put money in here?” Michael asked looking at the cardboard “Rice Bowl” at the kitchen island while I did the dishes with my back to him.

“Because there are kids that have no food and this money will help them….like the boy that you see on the box.” I answered without looking up.

“Well, he doesn’t look very hungry to me.” he sniffed.

“Michael, that’s rude! He’s starving!” I answered.

“No he’s not!! He’s smiling!” he protested.

“He’s probably trying to look good for the picture!! He’s very sad!” I answered indignantly.

“Well then why doesn’t he just eat the huge loaf of bread that he’s holding?”

I turned away from the dishes. “Let me see that.” I grabbed the box.

I mean I have to say – he doesn’t look too upset about the situation…I can see how this could be confusing to Michael….(and by the way if you like his shirt – I think I just saw it last week in the children’s department at Saks.)

When we finally had to turn it in to Michael’s CCD class, I placed it in my car in the morning so that I wouldn’t forget it in the rush of the afternoon.

Off I went to run a bunch of errands I needed to do before we went to NY for the holiday weekend.

I found the perfect spot on the street and realized that my coin collection for the meter was a little pathetic. I had mostly nickels and pennies in the cup holder of my car.

I looked longingly at the Operation Rice Bowl in my passenger seat.

I decided that stealing from the children wearing designer shirts “poor and hungry” for my parking meter would be an unforgivable Lenten offense.

I decided to rush – and figured any God or police officer would see my Operation Rice Bowl on the car seat and know that I was someone who did good works and should be rewarded.

Do you see my life?

Is it because I’m not so sure about the moved rock story or because of all those times when I told my parents I was going to mass but I really went to McDonald’s???

Why God?? WHY???

When we turned in the dang Rice Bowl that afternoon, the teacher made a fuss – saying Michael was the only one in the class to do it. So I felt good about that – maybe it was worth getting a ticket after all.

Let’s face it, we can teach him to be charitable since we don’t do much as far as religion goes. We don’t say grace, we don’t go to mass unless it’s a holiday, we don’t teach our kids to say prayers…

So imagine my surprise when I came back to pick him up and the teacher greeted me beaming.

“Michael is so wonderful! He passed his “Hail Mary test!” He knew the whole thing!”

I was completely shocked. How the hell did he learn the Hail Mary?

I was so taken off-guard. I don’t know why I said this but…..

I put my hands on Michael’s shoulders and used my “fake Mommy voice” and said…

“Oh – wonderful! They must have reviewed that on Sponge-Bob this week!”

I don’t think Michael’s teacher really “gets me.”

Happy Easter everyone!!

Don’t even think of not voting for me- after I got a parking ticket instead of stealing from the Operation Rice Bowl….Click on the banner below!!! XO, Lady Goo Goo Gaga

Leaning out

Everyone is all abuzz about the latest book from one of America’s top female executives.

Sheryl Sandberg has published a book titled “Lean In,” outlining out women can succeed in today’s world, and how they can avoid holding themselves back.

“Oh look at me..I am so happy and perfect. I am not afraid of success like all of you losers…Oh and I wear all white clothing and never get stains on them….”

She suggests that many women fear if they climb too high at the office then they won’t have enough time for their children.

She offers ways to get over that and “lean in” towards your career goals instead of “pushing away” from success in order to care for the children that you chose to bring into this world.

Well Sheryl…I am leaning out.

The only thing “leaning” around here is this stack of dirty laundry…and no this is not a reenactment…it’s my real life on Sunday mornings.

I am sure that she hasn’t become one of Fortune’s list of the 50 Most Powerful Women in Business and as one of Time’s 100 Most Influential People in the World, by sitting around joining playgroups and making fun of Kim Kardashian on her blog…but still.

These women crack me up.  She says that when we stop being afraid of success we can “pursue our goals with gusto!”

The only thing I am doing with “gusto” around here is drinking and consuming carbs.  Is it not enough that you are a gazillionaire Sheryl?  Do you have to rub our noses in it? Do you have to tell us that it is within our reach to be successful but it’s our own stupid faults for being afraid of success?

I am not afraid of success…I wish I was successful.  I wish I could be writing this from Lisa Vanderplump’s mansion in Beverly Hill right now.  That would be totally awesome.  What I am afraid of is raising two monsters who will grow up being cared for by a series of nannies and after-school programs to be fat, disrespectful, idiots with no family values.

I have mentioned that “I sell push-up bras part-time.”  That 20 hours of menial work has taken me away from conferences, games and having dinner with my family many times.  If my little job takes up my time, let’s try to imagine all the time that it takes for Sheryl to be a COO of a Fortune 500 company.

Let’s face facts, there’s no way that Sheryl is interacting regularly or (dare I say), as much as she should with her children, and she states in the book that she herself has grappled with guilt and concern for her children.

Her message is push that guilt and worry aside and reach for the gold! You can do it women!!

Great Sheryl - now you are even making the women who are working feel bad.  Can’t you just enjoy the view from your spacious Facebook office and your Louboutin and white sweater collection and leave us alone?

Oh Sheryl speaking of “leaning”….look at my “leaning” tower of magazines that I haven’t gotten to yet….(and yes instead of learning his alphabet Sam enjoys drawing moustaches on models…so what?)

I have chosen to bring these two boys to life and I feel it’s my responsiblity to be with them as much as I can.  I have to say Sheryl say she does not look down upon stay-at-home parents, she just secretly thinks we are all big fat losers.

I would love nothing more than to go full-steam ahead with my push-up bra career, but to what end?  We have to be real – when you choose to “lean in” and focus so intently on career, who are leaving something or someone behind.  That is just fact.

Who is watching this woman’s children? Who is tucking them in at night? Who is getting them off of the bus or watching their soccer game?  If  hired help or even a husband is doing all of that, then that is a very conscious decision that one must make as a mother.

Oh and Sheryl, look at these leaning condiments…do you think they are just going to replace themselves??

Sheryl says on her blog, “Together, we can create a world where everyone—women and men, girls and boys—has true choice and equal opportunity to follow his or her dreams.”

She seems very nice and positive, but this is simply not true.

I have said many times that Mr. Gaga is extremely supportive, very helpful with the children and the household chores, and is possibly one of the most patient and loving men I know.   Yet none of that takes any weight off my shoulders.  Simply because he is not a mom, he will never be a mom and that is innately the trouble with this whole debate.

We will never be equal.  Men and women are inherently different and always will be.  Maybe we would feel better if we could accept that a little bit, take off our power suits and just know that there are no answers to having it all and there never will be.

For my purposes, I am decidedly “leaning out.”  With no real Fortune magazine-worthy career to escape to….I am here for the better part of Sam and Michael’s childhood wallowing in guilt and self-pity just as much as all of the working moms are for different reasons.

This is me “leaning in” to make sure I am hearing correctly all of the insane bullshit that mothers say aloud in this town on a regular basis….

I asked a friend (who appears to juggle 3 children’s busy activities, a household and a career with “gusto.”) if she was happy with her life.

Her answer was very interesting to me.  She thought about it and went on to list some concerns, stuff she worries about and some parenting she thinks could use improvement on.  She stopped to think about other moms she knew that seemed to be “doing it all.”

She said , “You know now that I think about it I can’t think of one mother I know that would answer that question by saying, ‘Yes, I think I am doing a great job.”

Isn’t that sad? Isn’t it the crux of everything? That we will never be fulfilled either way?

And do people have to keep writing books and talking about it in circles?

LEAVE US THE FUCK ALONE SHERYL!! YOU ARE FREAKING US OUT!!!

Can’t I just watch Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and eat 500 Cadbury mini eggs in peace?

Now off she goes to sell 80 million books and rake in some more dough because basically we are so desperate for answers we will read anything.

Sigh.

You know things are bad when I miss ”50 Shades of Gray.”

IF YOU LIKE THIS POST PLEASE SHARE ON FACEBOOK THIS WEEK!! I GREATLY APPRECIATE IT;)

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

Kiss me…you’re Irish

My mother is 100% Irish and my father is 100% Italian.  Same goes for Mr. Gaga.

As luck would have it, I am 100% Italian and Mr. Gaga is 100% Irish.

Being married to an Irish person can be good and bad.

Here are some indicators that your husband and children are Irish:

They can drink you under the table: – Most stereotypes don’t come out of thin air.  These people can drink all day and night with little to no repercussions.

There’s no hangover…no throwing up.

The only people who suffer are the sober people who have to be in their company.  In my case, I learned long ago that I will never be able to keep up with the Irish in the drinking department.   While my Irish girlfriends were dancing on the bar in the Bronx, I was home vomiting.

Mr. Gaga is always the life of the party…and has yet to ever wake up one morning of his life and say “I’m never doing that again.”

Irish eyes are smiling:  It’s good to be with someone who has a smiley face, like Mr. Gaga.

I definitely have something that can certainly be described as a “frowny face.”

This has proven to be off-putting.   My neighbor told me that when she first moved to the neighborhood, some lady on my street (who I spoke two words to in my life) told her about the Gaga’s.  She said  “The husband is really nice, but stay away from the wife….she’s a total bitch.”  This is a common theme.

Thankfully, sometimes it seems that the friendliness that radiates from his Irish face, kind of cancels out my bitch face…and we become a little more approachable as a couple.

Somehow this face makes people feel better after they interact with…

this face…

 

They can fight: Yet another stereotype that just happens to be true.  Mr. Gaga is non-confrontational to a fault, but if the shit hits the fan I know he can take everyone down.  He’s very happy and nice, but if pushed too far, he can get crazy.

Don’t be fooled by his smiling eyes or his intoxication….he will fuck you up.

Their taste buds don’t work properly: I believe it is because their ancestors spent centuries gnawing on rotten potatoes in the rain or something, but both my husband and mother have taste buds that don’t function.

As a result they douse everything they eat with inappropriate seasonings and sauces.

When we all eat together my mother spends the first ten minutes of the meal “peppering her food.” While we eat, she literally sits at her seat shaking salt and pepper shakers madly.

 

I finished my dinner tonight right around the time my mother had just finished “salt and peppering” hers…Who in their right mind wants to eat this much pepper????

 

Mr. Gaga takes it one step further and mixes every sauce he can find together and dips his meat into it.

Needless to say, my delicious Italian food does not need this kind of treatment.  I beg him to eat food as it is prepared.  It’s heartbreaking to see him dip my chicken cutlets into this shit.

Every night he mixes all of this into a ramekin and dips food into it….Does that seem normal???

“Why are you doing this? This chicken cutlet is delicious!”

“I like it this way,” he says as he dips it into the revolting concoction.

“It’s rude to the chicken cutlet! You can’t even taste it anymore!”

I plead…to no avail.

They have blatant disregard for food:   I guess it may be due to the dysfunctional taste buds, but food is merely a means of survival for the Irish.

I could truly give my husband homemade pasta with a lobster sauce or Lucky Charms for dinner and he would be equally content either way.

It’s offensive.  However, on nights when I’m working or have had a crazy day there’s some comfort in knowing that I can offer a tunafish sandwich for supper and Mr. Gaga will be thrilled.

They are witty: In college, I lived with 7 Irish girls.  I never laughed so hard in my life.

Mr. Gaga also has been known to crack me up.

Sometimes so much so that I pee my pants.  Since I had kids….I am especially prone to having accidents.

Our first date after I had Sam, we got a babysitter and went to the movies.  When we left the theater and we were walking to the car, Mr. Gaga said something very funny.  I stopped walking, twisted my legs together to try to keep the pee in.  It didn’t work.

50 gallons of pee came pouring out in the middle of the crowds of people who were coming out of the movies, which actually just made me laugh harder.

Mr. Gaga ran away and left me.  He got his car and came back to pick me up where I stood in a pee puddle.  He found an old garbage bag in his truck and he made me wrap up in it before I sat on the seat in his truck.

We laughed the whole way home and then I snuck upstairs with my wet pants and garbage bag while he paid the babysitter.

There’s absolutely nothing better than laughter.

Because they can make people laugh, they take it too far:

Laughter is great.  The problem lies in the fact that when people think Mr. Gaga is the funniest person in the world, he starts to believe them.

When he’s out with friends or at work, he is “Mr. Personality”, shooting off one-liners and cracking jokes, and everyone thinks he’s a riot.

This was the crowd the last time he had to speak at work….

When he gets home, I am not always in the same jovial mood as his work people or his friends.  Sometimes he tries to crack the same jokes to me that worked wonderfully at work….

 

They are very white:  When you look like Snooki, you don’t expect to have to get involved with people who don’t like the sun.  Mr. Gaga sits out for a couple of hours on the beach before he starts crying and goes back in the house, and Michael wants to stay out but ends up roasting.

Caring for pasty-white children and husbands is super-annoying.  While Sam and I are tanning, the last thing we want to do is go back to the house because the other 2 annoying lobsters have sun poisoning.

This is Sam playing on the beach…..

 

This is a picture of Mr. Gaga when we were in Miami…

Loving the Irish can be a blessing or curse – but mostly its a blessing if you can disregard the hideous sunburns ……

HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY!!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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