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Category Archives: Back to school

BAD MOTHER


Time to get back into the swing of things.

And by “back,” I mean the kids went to school for two days and then we skipped Friday to take a long weekend at the beach.

I mean how much school can someone take in August?

Anyways – I was a bit concerned that all of the sun and laid back beach time was making the kids a bit lazy. When I asked them what activities they wanted to do they didn’t seem to be interested in anything.

Now that they are 6 and 7 I feel that they should kind of have some interests outside of video games and Spongebob. I convinced one to take soccer and the other to take tennis.

That’s enough. Then Michael announced he would like to take drums, so I agreed to that. Then they both decided they would like to play flag football. Now starting this week I am going to be one of those crazed mothers driving from practice to practice everyday.

I really wanted to enjoy this last weekend of freedom. I wanted to make it a point not to even think about the fall schedule until after the weekend.

Last night, (the last night of the summer) I fed the kids some mac and cheese from the box and plopped them in front of the television. I poured myself some wine and headed out onto the deck with a few family members, determined to have a nice night.

This should do it...I just black out in no time....

This should do it…I’ll black out in no time….

Maybe that’s why when a bunch of old friends came over unexpectedly with vodka in hand, I was a little to quick to down the most delicious martinis I ever had.

We were all out on the deck, and people kept hearing the party and joining in. The more people who came the more shithoused Mr. Gaga and I became.

And then some lawyer or cop showed up with possibly the best party entertainment ever…a breathalyzer. It got passed around and it became almost a competition to see who could get the highest number.

Needless to say- Mr. Gaga was disappointed with his 2.5 score.

Needless to say, even though it was the highest one of the night, Mr. Gaga was disappointed with his 2.5 score.

It just seemed that whenever I thought I was getting a little tipsy I would blow a .12 and then everyone would boo me at the party and I would have no choice but to down another martini.

At some point well into my third or fourth martini, a girl I had met only once before asked me if I had children.

I stared at her drunkenly. “Yes…..Oh shit….I DO have children!! I totally forgot!”

I ran inside and found Michael watching tv as though it was any other night. Sam was missing. I looked at the clock.

Oh shit....

Oh shit….

I stumbled over to the microwave…

This would fall into the category of "bad parenting..."

This would fall into the category of “bad parenting…”

“That’s it!” I said with authority.”It is WAY past your bedtime young man!”

Michael looked at me and shrugged. He got up and went to bed, which is where I noticed that poor Sam was under his covers.  He had, under the duress of having no mother, taken it upon himself to go to bed.

With the kids officially out of my hair the party continued.

I served everyone shots in votive candle holders because I couldn’t find shot glasses and things got really crazy.

When we finally went to bed it was around 2.

Needless to say when the kids woke up in the morning things weren’t pretty.

 

drunk-girl

I could barely speak or function.

I looked at poor Sam and he was still in the clothes he had on the day before.

I desperately needed an egg and cheese sandwich so I drove myself to the nearest place I could find and squealed up on two wheels.

I came back with coffee for the kids and a breakfast sandwich for Mr. Gaga.

When we felt that we could mildly function after downing eight gallons of water and our greasy sandwiches, we went to the beach and were able to hold it together somewhat until the lunch picnic we were planning on going to got cancelled.

There was no way I could suddenly go from worst mother ever to great mother of the year and come up with a healthy lunch.

I gave the kids a few bucks and sent them to the ice cream truck for lunch.

After a while they came back and gave me change and said that they were full – and could they save their lunch for later and handed me what was left.

These are huge jawbreakers....apparently otherwise known as "lunch"

These are huge jawbreakers. They are large sugar balls that can break your jaw…and apparently are otherwise known as “lunch.”

I have made it through the day.  I am utterly exhausted but I eked out this blog post miraculously.

All I can say is as far as parenting goes….it’s gotta be all uphill from here.

Happy Labor Day!

Don’t judge me…..

IT’S NOT A MOST SOBER MOM CONTEST -IT’S FUNNIEST…..SO JUST CLICK ON THE DANG THING… XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Angry legos are destroying childhood


We are at the bitter end of summer.

There are a few more days of freedom.

A few more nights of drinking wine and eating late dinners under the stars while the kids ride their bikes and eat ice creams at ungodly hours.

When school starts it’s back to reality.
Back to driving children around to various practices, lessons, and birthday parties. Back to being surrounded by annoying parents that hover over their children making sure that their lives are perfect.

Even though a couple of weeks ago I said I was dreading making lunches the most…in actuality I hate helicopter parenting more than lunches.

My biggest gripe with helicopter parents is that I just don’t know how they have so much time. They spend their days scurrying about making sure that their children do not experience anything unpleasant.

I don’t understand why I barely have time to clean my house and do the laundry, yet they magically have time to worry themselves over nonsense.

They run around making sure that their kid’s dolls don’t look like whores, that their kid’s sandwiches look like daisies and that their children believe that they won in sports even when they are big fat losers.

In the latest show of insane American parenting, I was recently greeted with a disturbing article about Legos.

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Apparently, studies have been done and the fact that Lego guys sometimes have frowny faces can possibly cause tension or aggression in children.  Parents are upset by this latest revelation.

I have two boys who are obsessed with Legos.

There’s not one room of my house that doesn’t have some little brick in it.  I have spent many mornings cursing the Lego Corporation after stepping on legos in my bare feet.

They are a pain in the ass to clean up and keep organized and until I had my trusty Bissell, I would accidentally vacuum them up.

I totally get how Legos can be annoying.

But to be upset because the Lego guys are in bad moods? Really?

First of all let’s get something straight. Legos occupy my children for hours and hours on end. I don’t give two flying shits what their facial expression is. I don’t care if the Lego guy is giving the finger…as long as they are playing and not bothering me.

Apparently, parents would like the Lego guys to be in good moods and be pleasant, smiling, law-abiding citizens.  Well what will that teach children?  Is it a good lesson for kids to believe that everyone is just going to be super-smiley and happy all the time?

Sometimes people are miserable assholes…and apparently so are legos.

Sorry kids - everyone can't be smiling astronauts, knights and lesbians all the time....

Sorry kids – everyone can’t be smiling astronauts, knights and lesbians all the time….

Also, has anyone taken a little gander at dolls lately?

bratz2

They can sell a little panda with this doll all they want – it won’t change the fact that she is extremely angry and unpleasant to be around.

Why is it ok for the dolls today to be raging whores with attitude problems and the lego guys can’t be a little rough around the edges??

Guess what everybody…..there’s a lot going on these days.

There’s some stuff in this world that could make even the happiest of people have a frown.

That’s life!

Sometimes life sucks.  Sometimes people make a bad face.

Some people are dicks and apparently so are Lego guys.

Maybe this guy is perfectly nice...Who are we to judge?

Maybe this guy is perfectly nice…Who are we to judge?

Like I have said many times before….can’t we all find something else to do or be upset about?
Overprotective parents and overzealous researchers should turn their attentions to important matters and just face reality.

It’s not a big deal….it’s just that like them, some Legos are just assholes.

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Pottery Barn Lunches


All this talk about lunches reminded me of this post from last summer about the Pottery Barn lunch catalogue…..Enjoy;)

When I was very young, my mother decided that I was quite independent and capable.

Upon discovering my love of “doing things myself,” she rearranged her kitchen cabinets and moved all of the cereal to the lowest cabinet. She taught me how to pour milk and make a sandwich for lunch. Once the basic survival skills were mastered she informed me and my brother that she would no longer be available in the mornings.

From that point on, we were responsible for getting ourselves up in the morning, getting dressed and ready for school, making breakfast and making ourselves lunch, and getting to the bus stop on time. To our credit (and hers) we managed to do this pretty much without incident. We never missed the bus and I don’t remember feeling neglected or abandoned in any way, even though the very first cereal I remember preparing for myself looked like this….

Fast forward to modern times when I have my own children and I have spent countless hours up at the crack of dawn preparing meals and snacks. Reflecting back on that time – it seems just a bit outrageous.

It’s a topic of conversation that she doesn’t enjoy, yet my brother and I bring it up constantly. It usually goes like this….

“Mom – remember when you announced that you were never waking up again – and we had to make our own lunch?”

She usually rolls her eyes…..”Oh – like you had such a bad life? I think you’re fine.”

“Yes – I’m fine – but it was little ridiculous that you weren’t up with us…”

“Oh, poor you…yes – you had it sooo bad. Did you have a good life? Did your father and I send you to college and give you a nice wedding?”

“Mom – that’s not the point – I am just saying – it was crazy to expect us to do everything by ourselves….we were like 2.”

“I was helping you to become more independent…..Like it’s so hard to pour a bowl of cereal?”

“Well it’s not – but when you are 4-years-old the gallon of milk is a little bit heavy.”

Usually it’s by this point in the conversation that she has left the room or hung up on me.

While I do think her morning routine was completely unacceptable, I am secretly envious of her 1970’s “laid back” parenting style.

Imagine just simply not waking up in the morning and sleeping in with no worries about what your children will wear, eat for breakfast or eat for lunch? How luxurious!

While I know that those days of parenting are long gone – never to return, I received full confirmation this week when I opened my Pottery Barn Kids Fall Gear 2012 Catalogue.

To start off I should have known I was in trouble when the catalogue started off with a picture of a preschooler carrying a backpack.

The “Pottery Barn people” must have really brain-stormed to come up with an image of a child that everyone could relate to.

It was only logical that they decided on a photo of a small child carrying 250 pounds of school supplies in a bag that is as big as he is, outside on the grounds of what appears to be……Harvard?

Oh yeah – and of course his name is Penn…What else would it be? And I am sure we could all agree that yellow suede loafers are the obvious choice for 4-year-old boys.

OK – so on to the lunch bag section of the catalogue. Of course modern-day parenting dictates that all snacks and lunches must be presented to children in fancy canvas totes with their names on it in bold text accompanied by an image of Darth Vader or Spider Man.

Gone are the days of the brown paper lunch bag.

Also, in the classic style of Pottery Barn, who historically since its inception seemed to make its mission as a company to make housewives and mothers feel badly about the state of things in their home……the “Pottery Barn People” have presented their impression of what a child’s lunch should look like.

Apparently their idea of a “lunch” drastically differs from mine.

Is this what my kids are supposed to see when they open their fancy lunch tote with 55 zippers and compartments?

Because that will never happen….

Please note that the sandwich has been fashioned into some sort of exotic daisy and a dipping sauce has been made available as part of Blair’s very balanced meal….If the other kindergarteners had any doubts if Blair’s mother loved her – I think it will be very clear now……

So …..here I am thinking I’m a great mother because I sometimes heat up Progresso soup in the morning and put it into a Batman thermos for Michael.

Once again – I am wrong. I am not mother of the year – in fact I might be the worst mother in America – according to Pottery Barn Kids.

As I kept reading – it became clear that I am, as I suspected, a very, very bad mother. I might as well just stay in bed like my mother…..because I have not once shaped sandwiches into a tic tac toe game smartly utilizing carrot shreds and pieces of grapes.

In the town where I grew up – If I ever opened up a lunch to reveal a tic tac toe game made out of sandwiches, I would get my ass kicked and my new name would be “Tic Tac” until I graduated highschool…..

Just when I was about to throw the catalogue in the garbage something caught my eye.

Wait – could this be true?

I know that good mothers are ones that send in little notes with their children’s lunch. I have been known to even send a note here or there.

But could it be possible that Pottery Barn Kids is SELLING IN THEIR CATALOGUE, something called “Lunch Box Love Notes.”

So – if you are too lazy or dumb to write out your own note to your child – no worries!! Pottery Barn has done it for you!!!

Thank you Mom for sleeping the day away and never sending me to school with a miniature sandwich with a yellow tomato ball and a queer love note on top of it.

Please notice the green note in the bottom right-hand corner.

So in case your kids is telling horrible stories at the lunch table – and the other kids are staring blankly at him – or saying something like “That story sucked,” – your note will be there to save the day!!

God forbid the 6 hour school day goes by without these children receiving some undeserving accolades from their mother!!

I actually perused the catalogue for a minute – thinking it would be nice to have the notes ready to go in the drawer in the morning. Maybe I would buy some, but I searched through the whole thing and couldn’t find any that were my kind of notes…..

Really?? It’s not enough that this lunch consists of yuca chips and cherry tomatoes? If my mother ever put a note in my lunch that said I was a “kind person” I would kill her.

I usually write things like:

“Hope you are having a nice day Michael – by the way the shirt you’re wearing is from Nordstrom – so if you rip your clothes at recess again today you are punished for a week.”

or

“Hi Love bug – don’t forget – if that bully bothers you again remember how Daddy told you to punch him right in the face!! Have a great day :)”

or

“If your friend offers to share his fruit snacks today, you are not allowed to eat them. This is why he already had a root canal when he was 4 – you will thank me later :)”

I guess I will be writing my own notes this school year…..

THANKS MOM FOR MAKING SURE I CAN POUR A MEAN BOWL OF CEREAL! AND PLEASE CLICK ON THE BANNER BELOW SINCE I HAVE BEEN MAKING THAT BOWL OF CEREAL SINCE I WAS 2…..

Back to School Anxiety


I might be the only mother in America to say this – but I do not want school to start.
As much as I complain about the kids, they aren’t that bad really.

I mean isn’t China already way ahead of us….is it really necessary to go back to school in August??

I am fairly certain that Americans aren’t going to suddenly plunge ahead in the industrialized world simply because we go back to school before Labor Day.

All that happens is that I get a little paler earlier in the season than necessary.

I actually dread the kids going back to school.

It’s so much more than them actually not being home all day.
I don’t want to wake up early and run around like a maniac signing permission slips, searching for library books and packing snacks.

I don’t want to make sure that the children are wearing matching outfits.
I don’t want to make sure that their teeth are brushed and that their hair is combed so that they don’t look like meth addicts.
I don’t want to spend my first moments every morning surrounded by adult and child assholes at the bus stop.
I don’t want to get an email from the PTO five times a day asking me for money in a variety of different ways.
I don’t want to plan playdates.
I don’t want to help the kids with their homework. By the way… why is this my problem? I am sure the Chinese mothers aren’t doing homework.

But the number one reason why I am dreading going back to school is that I do not want to pack lunches everyday.
It seems like just yesterday it was the afternoon of the last day of school. I took both kids lunch boxes and announced, “If I pack one more fucking lunch I am going to slit my throat,” and kicked them down the stairs into the basement.
Well here we are…in two weeks I will be in the basement dusting them off and bringing them back upstairs.

I know you might be thinking….what’s the big deal?
Well let me break it down for you.

First of all, gone are the days when you could just throw some bologna in between some Wonder bread, slap an apple on top of it so it’s flat and mushy by lunchtime and send the kid on his way.

I distinctly remember two things about lunch when I was in elementary school.

I remember there were 2 girls who brought liverwurst sandwiches. I did not want to sit next to them because it smelled and made me want to throw up and also I felt bad for them, because I figured their life must be pretty bad if their mother sent them to school with that shit.

I also remember when a boy named Andrew choked on a hot dog and the gym teacher had to give him the Heimlich maneuver to save his life and the hot dog came up with an ocean of vomit and chocolate milk.

I never ate a hot dog again after that for a good 20 years.

Nowadays there is quite a bit to consider.

There are a lot of issues to deal with when considering lunchtime.
There’s the whole childhood obesity issue, there’s the cavity issue, there’s the cancer problem, the high fructose corn syrup problem, and the food allergy problem.

Let’s start with food allergy problem.

My kids do not have food allergies but have been basically told everywhere from the gym to the playground since they were born that peanuts are not allowed. As a result, my children, who eat peanut butter and fluff like it’s their job during the summer – will not take peanut butter items to school.

Other kids (who also do not have a peanut allergy and are sitting at a table free of food allergies) make fun of them and won’t sit with them if they have peanut butter in their lunch!!!!
YES!
PEANUT BUTTER IS THE NEW LIVERWURST!

Personally I think it's a bit much but in their cafeteria this sign is actually hanging up and it says in big bold letters across it, "Fuck this guy."

Personally I think it’s a bit much but in their cafeteria this sign is actually hanging up and it says in big bold letters across it, “Fuck this guy.”

Can you believe this? So out goes what was once a major staple of American lunch for about 5000 years.

Ok so then there’s the whole matter of obesity and cavities.
Remember how children used to be allowed to eat fruit roll ups, raisins, Capri Suns and fruit snacks?
That’s not allowed.  Now that elementary school children in America are the size of sumo wrestlers, only the most horrible parents that can’t read would send such items into school.

If you go to the dentist with your children you will find that these foods will basically cause the children’s teeth to rot out of their heads.

Of course it does become confusing when the dreaded peanut is on the good side.....

Of course it does become confusing when the dreaded peanut is on the good side…..

So you think “Ok, well they can have some sort of sandwich and water.”

Well there’s the matter of the nitrates in the cold cuts. Remember when a cold cut sandwich was a healthy option? Remember when we all ate bologna sandwiches our whole life?

Yeah – that’s what would now be referred to as a “nitrate surprise.”
If it was up to Sam he would have a pepperoni sandwich every single day. I have now spent the whole summer switching up different cold cuts and mixing them in with one piece of pepperoni to cut down on the red dye and carcinogens. He will eat these sandwiches if I call them “Italian combos.”

I try to get him to take other things. Sometimes he will eat cold pizza and one time Mr. Gaga sent him with a sausage and pepper sandwich.

One time when Sam was in kindergarten I sent in a grilled cheese wrapped up in foil so it would still be warm by the time he ate it.
When he got home he said that one of his friends (whose mother basically lives at the school volunteering and involving herself in everyone’s lives) looked at his sandwich and said “What kind of mother would send in a grilled cheese sandwich?”
Can you believe this bullshit?

I said “Oh! Why don’t you tell him a mother that has very limited to time to spend making lunch because she has better things to do with her life…unlike your mother, you douchebag.”
But apparently he was only 5 and had a hard time remembering all the words in that speech even though we went over it several times. He never took a grilled cheese sandwich again.
Then there’s Michael who will not eat one cold cut ever.
He flat out refuses.
He will only eat a bagel with cream cheese or Italian wedding soup.
I loyally switch back and forth between the two lunch items ALL YEAR LONG.

Sometimes I think about the two girls who ate liverwurst and worry for him.
“Does anyone every wonder why you are eating Italian wedding soup everyday?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Do you think people think you are weird?” I ask.
“I don’t care.” he answers simply.
And he really doesn’t.
Which leads me to the final point about lunches.

Children really don’t have any shame anymore.

If my mother put one toe into my cafeteria when I was young, I first would pretend I didn’t know who she was.  If that didn’t work I would throw up or faint.

Not today’s children…They beg and plead for their mother’s to join them for lunch. Upon joining the children, parents sit at the “parent and child” lunch table and enjoy special lunchtime bonding.

I only agree to this for the children’s birthdays and am shocked to find every time I show up the parents tables are bumpin.

Is this really what our world has come to?

Doesn’t anyone have stuff to do anymore??

Would any mother before the year 2000 actually stop what they were doing to come eat lunch with their kid?

GO HOME LOSERS!!!!

GO HOME LOSERS!!!!

Please God let these last few days of summer be sunny and wonderful and please let the transition back to school be easier than expected….

I am going to sleep now to dream of a world where children eat peanut butter and jelly and don’t want to eat lunch with their mothers……

ONE GOOD THING ABOUT SCHOOL IS THAT IT GIVES ME LOTS OF MATERIAL….IN THE MEANTIME PLEASE CLICK ON THE BANNER BELOW!!

XO, LADYGOOGOOGAGA

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What I Learned 2012


As I looked back over my blog entries for 2012 I realized that it has been a long and interesting year.

I have learned a lot about myself and more importantly about all of you and what you find interesting and what you can relate to.

My most-read post of the year was my letter, “Dear Beyonce” which was posted after she rented an entire floor of a hospital in New York City to give birth to her child.

I actually received a lot of hate comments for that one, as well as praise.  If you review the comments you will notice some insane Beyonce lovers chimed in…..

Was this post so popular because those of us who are mothers like to warn new moms what to expect?

Or is it sadly that we have become a celebrity-obsessed culture that reads US Weekly as regularly and whole-heartedly as generations before us would read Time and Newsweek?  That we are just so obsessed with every minute detail of the lives of the rich and famous that we tune in to read about anything diva-related?

Sadly, as an avid US Weekly reader, I think it’s the latter.

In the beginning of last year, I was grappling with how to work and maintain my household, my sanity and not let looks go completely down the toilet.

This is me making a quick run to the grocery store after getting home late from work.........

This is me making a quick run to the grocery store after getting home late from work………with blatant disregard for my moustache and camel-toe…..

In the spring, I hadn’t much headway in the looks department, but I had at least stopped working as much so I had time to sleep.  I shared how I still am trying to catch up on sleep I lost when I was breastfeeding.

I also, shared a tale of how I was sleeping so soundly that I didn’t wake up in time to save my poor brother from seeing my boob hanging out of my shirt one morning.

I have mentioned before how my boobs have really become deformed since the children destroyed my body from head to toe….my poor, poor brother.

I am pretty sure this is what my brother saw – except I have a lighter skin-tone and I wasn’t holding that stick…..Also – my wife beater was from the Old Navy, not her fancy cow one….

I am pretty sure this is what my brother saw – except I have a lighter skin-tone and I wasn’t holding that stick…..Also – my wife beater was from the Old Navy, not her fancy cow one….

This spring, as 50 Shades of Grey hit the shelves, I learned a lot about trends in America for women.  First, I was shocked to discover that apparently everyone just has oodles of time to sit home and masturbate all day while they fantasize about being handcuffed and beaten.

Who knew?

breakfast bubble

Then, just as I was recovering from this news, I had to find out that women right and left were chowing down on their own placenta.  

As if that wasn’t offensive enough, “ways of feeding American children” reached a new low when Alicia Silverstone was all over the news demonstrating how she chews up food and spits it into her child’s mouth.

This kind of weird parenting could result in children that are complete freaks.

They could end up being total cry babies, that whine and complain about everything….

This was the behavior that basically every child exhibited on my son’s baseball team this summer.

Oh and while the boys roam the fields looking for mushrooms and shit their pants while they are running to the wrong base, their parents could care less.

It was absolutely astonishing. Hopefully next season will be better!

This dad of one of the players, put his IPhone in his pocket for a minute, looked up and realized that his son was in the outfield picking flowers and had shit his pants, so he quickly started got on his phone again......

This dad of one of the players, put his iPhone in his pocket for a minute, looked up and realized that his son was in the outfield picking flowers and had shit his pants, so he quickly started got on his phone again……

After baseball was over, we went on a crazy “vacation” with my in-laws, and then went to the beach for the rest of the summer, which was lovely.

Then we started to get ready for back-to-school, which is when I noticed how offensive the Pottery Barn Kids catalogue was…..

In the classic Pottery Barn style which aims to make us feel badly about our homes, bedding, and lives….the PB Kids version, now aims to make us feel bad about our kids lunches and what we put them in……

Please note that the sandwich has been fashioned into some sort of exotic daisy and a dipping sauce has been made available as part of Blair's very balanced meal....

Please note that the sandwich has been fashioned into some sort of exotic daisy and a dipping sauce has been made available as part of Blair’s very balanced meal….If any kindergartener had any doubt about if Blair’s mother loved her or not…I think it will be quite clear after this lunch is revealed……

In October, we were yet again devastated by a storm.

You would think we would be prepared since the last storm, but we weren’t.

So I had to brave the stores searching for batteries and water.  It wasn’t pretty.

Don't be fooled, under that pillow this lady was hiding 75 packages of D Batteries and 8 flashlights.

Don’t be fooled, under that pillow this lady was hiding 75 packages of D Batteries and 8 flashlights.

We survived with minimal damage, but I hosted my Thanksgiving run and raised money for victims of Storm Sandy in New York.

In December, I have taken a lot of time to reflect on life and the world that we live in after the absolutely heart-breaking school shooting that happened here in Connecticut.

We have a lot to think about and change to make sure that our children can grow up safe and happy and healthy.

But when I had a spare moment during the holidays, I did have time to make fun of people who decorate their vehicles with antlers and noses.

What does this even mean? Your vehicle is a reindeer? Does your car pull a sleigh? Will your car fly on Christmas Eve?? Why are you doing this?? WHY????

What does this even mean? Your vehicle is a reindeer? Does your car pull a sleigh? Will your car fly on Christmas Eve?? Why are you doing this?? WHY????

In closing, it has been a great year for Lady Goo Goo Gaga, and I hope to continue learning and growing and sharing my stories.

Thank you all for reading every week!! And for CLICKING ON THE BANNER BELOW!!!!

Please leave me a comment letting me know what was your favorite post of 2012….BESIDES “DEAR BEYONCE!!!”

Happy New Year!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Unsafe Safety Latches


I’ve been frazzled.

Last week I literally had no obligations.

I had no work and by some religious miracle there seemed to be no Jewish holidays last week – so the kids actually went to school everyday!

I have been waiting for a day when I had nothing to do since the 80’s.  I have had a very clear plan in place for some time.

In 1985, at the very young age of 7, I decided what I would do if a day free of obligations ever came my way.

I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would spend the day in a lounge chair in a black lace bra and shorts, calling friends on my huge cordless phone.

I would drink wine and champagne and Cheetos and listen to cassette tapes…..

 

 

Now that the day is finally here….I think I am too old and fat for my plan……

So I at least took time every day to work out and shower and shop, which was all very luxurious.

I cooked. I cleaned.

I wandered around the house looking out the windows.  Things were pretty orderly, but yet…..I felt disorganized.

I kind of flip-flopped around the house feeling under-utilized and confused.  Didn’t anyone need anything from me??

Apparently all of this not being needed makes me very tired, because on Tuesday, Michael woke me up to ask me for help with his pants.  I rolled over and saw that the clock said 8:19.

Just so we are all on the same page, the bus actually comes at 8:09.

That was a bad morning.

Later in the week I was supposed to go to my mother’s for her birthday and I said I would make a cake when I got to her house.  I went to the store to get specific ingredients to go along with the cake – and I realized at 7 PM that night as we were making dinner, that I forgot the cake mix.  It was a stupid thing that I would have never done if I had 2 screaming babies with me all week and a full plate at work.

It seems now, the less I have to do – the more of a disorganized hot mess I become.

On Thursday, I had to drive the kids to school because Sam had to make a boat for a school project and we didn’t think it would make the trip to school safely on the bus.

I woke up early – so that I could have coffee and get ready for the gym.  My plan was to drop off the kids and be at the gym by 8:35.   We were doing great, as we loaded into the car I thought about “drop-off.”

At school there are very strict guidelines about how you can actually “DROP OFF” your child.

Whereas “dropping off” used to be a term used casually for leaving something or someone somewhere….it is now a full, very serious ACTION that requires strict attention to rules and regulations, or risk ruining the well-oiled machine that is “DROP-OFF.”

One of said rules is that parents must DROP OFF from the right-hand side of the vehicle onto the sidewalk.  Children cannot get out on the left-hand side and mothers cannot under any circumstance help their children get out of the car.

Children need to get out swiftly and efficiently or they will cause a back-up of angry Land Rovers and Escalades.  Lord forbid there’s any problem with seatbelt unfastening or backpack forgetting – you have to just drop-kick your kid to the curb or risk starting a riot.

In the world of child-safety locks this often means that children are locked in the back seat until the DROP OFF NAZI ON DUTY notices and opens the door for them.

This particular morning I said “Kids – I am just going to undo the child safety latch on the door – so when we get to school – you can just hop out on your own.”

While the kids got settled, Sam gingerly holding his boat on his lap – I went over to the door and flipped a switch.

I slammed the door shut and it bounced right back at me. I had turned something so that the door was unable to shut at all.  I fiddled with it and started to freak out after repeated attempts of fixing the problem didn’t work.

I was sweating and swearing as I stared at the little label next to the latch, trying to figure it out.

I stared at this for a good ten minutes thinking…ok, a kid popping out of a space suit and a kid with his space helmet on…..what does this have to do with the door????

Finally in a moment of strong and confident mothering I said, “Kids – I am going to get you to school….Sam hold the door while I drive.”

He looked at me with horror, with eyes and mouth open wide.

He handed his boat to Michael and held on tight to the door handle as I peeled out of the driveway.

We were 15 minutes late at this point.  As I rounded the corner out of our street the velocity pulled on the door and it threatened to open but Sam held strong.

“I can’t do it Mom!!! I am going to let go!!” he screamed.

“You can do it Sam!! Don’t let go – no matter what!!” I screamed back.  All the while Michael was laughing and calling my name over our hysterics.

“What Michael?” I finally answered.

“Well what will you do when we get to school? Who will hold the door for you when you drive home?”

I peered back at him in the rearview mirror.

I hadn’t thought this through, had I?

“I will call Daddy,” I announced with dread.

When we got to school – I left the door wide open while I signed the kids in at the front office.  I called Mr. Gaga a couple of times and he didn’t answer.  Finally on the 4th call he answered he had been in a meeting.  When I explained the pickle I was in, he was not happy.

“Well, you are going to have to wait…I’m in the middle of something,” he said in a very angry tone and pretty much hung up on me.

In his defense I have called him 3 times since school started requesting him to come home for various reasons involving loss of keys for homes and vehicles.

I knew I was dead, and it would be in my best interest to figure this thing out.

If I could figure it out – Mr. Gaga wouldn’t have to leave work and our marriage could be saved!

I figured I could tie the door shut somehow using something I had lying around in the car.  Apparently when I told the kids a while back to keep the car clean – they took me seriously because I didn’t have much in the way of materials to work with.

When I thought I found something that I could use, I called Mr. Gaga and told him I was going to jimmy something together and that he didn’t need to come.

“Too late,” he grumbled.  “I am on my way.”

I stood outside of the car waiting for him.  When he arrived he marched over to the car and I forgot I had left my materials tied to the door.

“Really? Are you serious????? What were you going to do with that?” he asked with disgust, pointing at the door.

This seemed like as good a plan as any…..

“I was going to tie it shut!!” I answered back defiantly.

He pulled the door handle up from the outside, a little click noise happened and he shut the door gently.

I looked down at the shut door. “How the heck did you?…..”

Then I looked up at him as he turned around.

He started to go back towards his car but stopped to let a car go.  The woman waved him to go across.

He said “Go ahead! I’m going to slap her around a little bit!!!” and made a motion of slapping me in the face.

The minivan pulled up and a chinese woman rolled down the window, she called out in broken english.

“You Sam mother?”

“Yes!” I said fake-smiling.  (*Since Sam has been in school all of 3 weeks, his charms, good looks and guido-like tendencies have made him famous and relegated me to simply “Sam’s mom.”)

“You OK?” she asked me , gesturing towards Mr. Gaga with disgust.  Her eyes bored deep into mine so that she could accurately be able to read my cry for help.

“Oh no I’m fine ! He’s just kidding!” I said in a text-book response of an abuse victim.

As she drove slowly away, I said “Oh great…now everyone is going to think you beat me!”

We had a little chuckle which lightened the mood a bit.  He got in his car and peeled out.

It was 9:00 am.

All that and I still had 6 1/2 more hours of confusion and disorganization ahead of me.

I HAVE TO GET MY SHIT TOGETHER OR MR GAGA IS GOING TO LEAVE ME…..IN THE MEAN TIME PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW SO AT LEAST I KNOW THAT SOMEBODY LOVES ME AND NEEDS ME AROUND HERE!!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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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