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All Hats Are Off…


I am famous for slacking off in the summer as a parent.

I am present  diligent  focused doting   a good parent for the most part from September through June.  Come July all bets are off.

We follow the rules for food, school, sports, bed time, reading lists, appropriate screen times, etc. during the year and in the summer it’s time to let things slide.

So when Mr. Gaga came home from a NASCAR race (for real) with hats for the kids and they wore them to summer camp I didn’t think twice.

They were so proud and excited to wear the hats because they thought they looked like really cool teenagers, off they went on their bikes and I went to the beach to read my book.  Everyone was happy.

They came home completely devastated.

“First we were playing a game and they counselors said “Anyone wearing an inappropriate hat come on this team’ and they were talking about me and Michael!” Sam said with astonishment.

“Yeah then later they actually pulled us aside and said that we had to take our hats off and that they would give them to us after camp!” Michael said with despair.

“Why?” I asked incredulously.

“They said that our hats were “beer hats!” Sam said with horror.

So you are all envisioning this horrible hat from a NASCAR race that would be deemed “inappropriate.”   Something like this….

supreme-playboy-snapback-hat-cap-black

Or maybe at least this….

$(KGrHqN,!qcFGlEjIVVeBRzJO!qNE!~~60_35

 

Or I could see how this hat could potentially be offensive….

sluts

 

I stared at their hats doubtfully…..”But who even knows what the heck this is?”

hat

Who the fuck drinks apple ale?? And who the fuck cares?

“One of the older kids said ‘That’s a beer hat!” Michael said matter-of-factly.

“Well who cares?” I asked getting annoyed. “It’s not like a Newport Light hat or a porn hat!”

The kids stared at me and shrugged.

I started making their lunch fuming mad.  First of all it’s summer camp at the beach, it’s not some sort of educational institution run by Communists.  Second of all, are we not allowed to discuss beer or admit that we drink it daily?   By creating a big fuss about this stupid hat it makes my children feel as though drinking beer is very bad….in which case they will start to wonder about their father and all of the hats he wears…..

great-hat-fan
When I was growing up my parents and aunts and uncles would drink all the time. We thought nothing of it.  In the old days, fathers would come home and just walk in the door at 5 PM and start chugging straight scotch or whiskey out of a rocks glass.

Dads would down straight liquor and puff on cigars and cigarettes in the house after a long day of work while the children quietly did their homework or played.

Nobody would even bat an eyelash while grown adults utilized grown adult substances.

What would Don Draper do if someone complained about his kid’s “Apple Juice Hat?” He would throw back his drink and blow smoke in the person’s face and laugh….

We didn’t really feel comfortable doing that but I just made a special hat and necklace for Mr. Gaga the next day when he brought the kids to camp.

beer-hat2

Nobody seemed to notice so the next day – I brought the kids myself and really tried to make a statement….

 

 

thumb_cigarette-hat

 

I think it’s safe to say that nobody will be bothering us about our choice of fashion accessories anymore….

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Hershey Smershey


Well this week I decided to take the kids away for a couple of days with my friend, Jane and her children.

I have always heard great things about Hershey Park and I thought it would be a great place for two little boys and for two girlfriends who love chocolate.  Every time I told someone we were going – they would tell me how wonderful and magical it was.  “The kids will love it!” everyone assured me.

Many people have also suggested more adventurous trips for the two boys – like the Grand Canyon – but I thought this would be a logical first step.

I imagined a magical place with chocolate fountains and everyone told me that as you entered into the town of Hershey you could actually smell chocolate in the air.  There were tons of rides for the kids and a water park.  Basically it would be a wonderful adventure and would secure my ranking as “Best Mom Ever.”

Ok well first of all as we were getting close to the Hershey gates, after driving for 5 1/2 hours I rolled down my windows with excitement.  We all stuck our heads out the car windows.  Maybe the factory was closed that day – or maybe fresh landscaping had just occurred but all we smelled was manure.

We were off to a great start.

Off we went to the amusement park.  We started off on a few rides and we did one pretty tame rollercoaster.  As we got further into the park we realized that several of the rides were closed. On one ride Jane and Michael waited in a half hour-long line before being told that the coaster was broken.

Michael the daredevil of the group, was getting frustrated.  We came upon a very unusual ride where you get strapped into what looks like a rollercoaster seat and then you go down a straight rail, practically at the speed of light.

We watched group after group get catapulted forward at lightning speeds into a tunnel out of sight.

“Please!! Please can I do that one?” Michael pleaded.

“Are you sure?” I asked hesitantly as I watched people’s heads jolt back from the excessive speed.

ride

“Yes! Please!” he begged.

I relented and Jane agreed to go on with him.

We watched them get catapulted forward and waited for them to get off the ride.  They had disappeared.  We peered through the tunnel and under the trees that were blocking our view and I realized with horror that in fact the ride didn’t end with just a straight shot – but instead went on to become one of the most insane rollercoasters I had ever seen in my life.

Oopsie...there goes Michael.

Oopsie…there goes Michael.

After that whole fiasco we decided to have lunch and head over to the water park.

This part of the park reminded me of other hellish places I have been where water is squirting out from fifteen million places and a huge bucket above the area fills up with water and then tips over and drenches everyone with a tidal wave.   We were hot from milling about in the blazing 90 degree heat, so we thought it would be a good break.

As we approached we soon realized that there would absolutely be no way to watch our children.

rotation1

 

The kids chose the longest slide and we agreed to let them go all together up the stairs to wait in line for that particular purple slide and we would wait on the ground for them.  The line was long and our skin was burning as we waited for 15 minutes while they ascended the stairs.  As I peered around there were a lot of unsavory characters in ill-fitting bathing suits.  I slipped off my flip-flops and waded in a cold puddle to cool off, counting the minutes until we could leave this area.

Fifteen more minutes passed and we looked up into the sun trying to find their little bodies on the stairwell.  We spotted them and realized they hadn’t moved ahead much.

Another fifteen minutes passed and we could no longer see them and we were starting to get nervous.

“I’m going to go the bottom of the slide to wait for them! This is taking way too long!” I told my friend with despair.

Human beings of all shapes and sizes came one after another shooting out from the slide, but not our children.

slide

 

Finally, after one hour of waiting we could see our kids right at the top of the stairs, up next to come down the slide.  I walked up close so I could get a nice picture of them coming down the long-awaited slide.

But what was this that came shooting down?

This wasn’t one of our children….I took a closer look as a woman came tumbling down on her back in a big splash, legs spread wide……with NO BATHING SUIT BOTTOM ON!!!!  She leaned down and grabbed her bottoms that had slipped down around her ankles and pulled it back up.

I almost died.

Then she just walked back towards the line to do it again like nothing happened....

Then she just walked back towards the line to do it again like nothing happened….

I looked at my friend in despair – “But wait – I think our kids our next – that means – her bits and pieces just rubbed all the way down the slide!” I screeched in horror.

“Yup,” Jane said laughing as the kids came shooting down, “Here they come in the vagina tunnel…”

That was enough of that.

“Come on kids – a few more rides and then we can go to the Chocolate Museum.” I said wrapping the kids in towels and shuffling them out of the water park.

“But – we only did one ride!” the kids cried.

We ignored them and did a few more rides, even though we waited in two more lines!! that shut down the ride while we were mid-line!

Finally we headed out of the park and made our way towards “Chocolate World,” which was what I had been dreaming of all day. We were to go on a tour of the chocolate factory.

I knew for sure this whole day of torture would end with a delightful cruise down a chocolate river…

I couldn't wait for this delightful tour and was so excited to hear that we would receive a fresh off the presses piece of Hershey's chocolate at the end....

I couldn’t wait for this delightful tour and was so excited to hear that we would receive a fresh off the presses piece of Hershey’s chocolate at the end….

 

Only the tour was a fake-ass tour with barrels of fake liquid and a fake story about how chocolate is made….. I couldn’t help but think along the tour – “Where is the barrel of high fructose corn syrup??”

tour

This is fucking bullshit -Where is Gene Wilder?????

 

The kids enjoyed the tour and didn’t seem to notice that it was completely absurd and stupid. When we hopped off our beautiful chocolate river boat  motorized tour cart – I thought to myself at least we will receive a delicious piece of chocolate at the end of all of this.

 

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

We peeled out of that Hershey Park so fast gnawing on our pomegranate balls in disgust.

The next time someone tells me some place is “wonderful” I am going to have to think long and hard about this.

The first thing I am crossing off my list is the Grand Canyon.  Many people have told me how “amazing” it is there.

Guess what? I am not falling for this bullshit anymore.

I am not riding some filthy goat up a mountain and looking down into a ditch where I can fall to my death at any moment…..

I’m thinking “stay-cations” are more my speed.

 

CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME FOR THE BEST!! MOTHER IN AMERICA -EVEN THOUGH I SENT MY KID DOWN A VAGINA TUNNEL AND A WILD DEATH ROLLERCOASTER!

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Born in the wild (to assholes)


I have been enjoying my long weekend at the beach with lots of sun, food and drink.  There haven’t been too many parenting dilemmas to speak of because ….well…quite frankly I have been ignoring the children.

However, I did find out about something new and exciting in the birthing world that I felt I should discuss.

During this week we enjoyed parties and celebrations of our “independence” as a nation. On July 4th, 1776 the Congress formally adopted the Declaration of Independence.  One of our “Founding Fathers”  who helped to get the wheels in motion to ensure our independence from Great Britain was the one and only, Benjamin Franklin.

I pretty much just thought he did that and then flew kites got electrocuted by lightning all day, but apparently he did some other very important stuff.

Apparently he just dicked around with kites all day...nice life.

Apparently he just dicked around with kites all day…nice life.

He put together a very important petition in Pennsylvania to create an institution that is now known as the “hospital.”

… petitioners were directed to present the Assembly with a bill to create a hospital. Presented a week later, the bill encouraged the Assembly to establish a hospital “to care for the sick poor of the Province and for the reception and care of lunaticks.”

From that day on we have enjoyed the comforts of hospital care.

We are able to enjoy modern medicine in well-lit sterile environments filled with trained medical professionals who spent years and years studying the human body at expensive medical schools.

We have been blessed with enjoyable television programming such as ER and Grey’s Anatomy and General Hospital.

Everyone is so focused on that damn kite - why don't we celebrate Benjamin Franklin for bringing us this??

Everyone is so focused on that damn kite – why don’t we celebrate Benjamin Franklin for bringing us this??

But now we have something even more groundbreaking to look forward to in the world of television.

I quite enjoy reality television and I have to say this spring, Lifetime Television really outdid themselves by bringing us some of the most riveting television in the history of reality TV with “True Tori.”

"My heart is ripped out!" Tori screamed before she kicked all of the baby and wedding pictures of the bed and had a complete nervous breakdown.  It was absolutely fascinating.

“My heart is ripped out!” Tori screamed before she kicked all of the baby and wedding pictures off the bed and had a complete nervous breakdown. It was absolutely fascinating.

I am sorry but I cannot forgive Lifetime for their next big show.  No matter how many scrapbooks Tori kicks off of her bed in hysterics.

‘Born in the Wild’ is set to debut on Lifetime, “a documentation of what happens when women actually give birth with no help from doctors.”

Lifetime is presenting us with a reality show this summer featuring women who feel that the birthing process should not be in a local hospital.  It should apparently not be in their home either. These women find that hospitals and homes are too “medicalized” and that birth should be a natural and beautiful process.

Modern mothers once again have decided to reinvent the wheel.  Convinced that evil medicine and sterility will destroy their precious beautiful birth moment, they have taken to popping kids out in kiddie pools in their dining room in droves.

They even hire photographers to document this amazing process.

Here a woman entertains everyone with a quick rendition of “Chopsticks” while she anxiously awaits her new baby!

piano birth

 

When she is finished with a quick “Moonlight Sonata” she urges her partner to hop into his Tommy Bahama bathing suit, and put on his gold chain and dry-hump her from behind.

birth couple

Soon after they hop into the kiddie pool that is set up in their living room and begin the process of childbirth at home.

tub

 

kiss

But no!! Even the home birth isn’t natural enough for the latest batch of assholes bearing newborns.

Too sterile!! Not natural enough!!

So where should one squeeze out a child and a placenta these days?  Where could a mother be completely immersed in this beautiful process with no disruptions from modern medicine or trained professionals?

Oh….the rainforest of course!

cos-01-birth-xA4vEe-de

I will just put my yoga mat right here in this filthy creek….

Lifetime’s PR people put out the crafty tagline for the show asking“What happens when the craziest experience of a woman’s life becomes truly wild, and soon-to-be parents decide to take on an unassisted birth in the outdoors?” 

Oh I’ll tell you what happens….these poor children get to experience their very first moments of being born to stupid fucking “lunatiks” (as Ben Franklin would call them.)  They might get Legionnaire’s Disease from still water or they might get stung by a wasp and contract malaria.

Ben Franklin worked long and hard to bring us hospitals where we have the luxury of knowing that if something goes wrong, then people who spent every penny they had at Harvard Medical School will help to ensure that our baby survives.  Do you think that you are so one with Mother Nature that you are willing to risk the safety of your newborn child?

Let’s just say that everything is fine and you don’t need any help from a doctor or the comforts of an emergency room….

What if a frog or salamander jumps onto your baby when it pops out? What if it shoots out and hits his head on the rocks?  What if he goes into the water and a wave comes and he starts floating away? What if an animal eats him? What if the baby ingest bacteria ridden algae from the creek as it comes out?

Do you think you are a fish or other animal that lives in the rainforest? Because you are not.  What you are is an ignorant fool.

Oh and PS - nice ponytail.

Apparently when things get uncomfortable by the creek you can always pop on over to your purple yoga mat that’s set up on a bed of rocks.

women-birth-3_060714025739

 

Then when all is said and done you can just move away from all of the bloody pebbles and nurse your new baby and think about how amazing and “natural” and “wild” you are and how much Benjamin Franklin would hate your guts.

born-in-the-wild

Oh how nice that you were able to stop at the local rainforest J Crew for a statement necklace for this happy occasion!

 

I am hoping that True Tori has another season or maybe I will start watching General Hospital again, because watching ‘lunatiks’ give birth on beds of filthy rocks filled with bugs and bacteria is not my idea of entertainment.

Yet just one more piece of evidence that mothers of today have completely lost their minds.

I HEART BENJAMIN FRANKLIN!! CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

 

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Sorry I can’t make it…


It’s officially summer now that we are going into the month of July this week.

There have been a few invitations sent my way to do random things and I thought it best to send out a friendly reminder of how I roll during the summer months.

I am reblogging this from the beginning of last summer:

 

This weekend kicks off summer, my favorite season.  When you live in Alaska Connecticut, where essentially we have winter from October to June (9 months for anyone who’s counting) the summer days are precious.

I want to spend every moment I can basking in the sunshine.  What I don’t want to do is attend annoying functions to celebrate milestones that may or may not warrant celebrating in the middle of a summer day.

I call these types of functions that cut into my beach time, “sun-wasters.”

Since Mr. Gaga and I have large families and we are both very entertaining people, the invitations just keep pouring in.

Here are some summer functions that I don’t want to get off the beach for…

Your kid’s birthday party in the yard:  My friend Martha was the worst offender of this a couple of years ago.  When I can be at a beach or a pool the last thing I want to do is be in your yard with hot sticky children in a bounce house with face paint dripping down their sweaty faces.

Ironically enough I plan to have Sam’s birthday party in my yard on Friday.

Oopsie...At least I will serve alcohol to the parents to lessen the blow....

Oopsie…At least I will serve alcohol to the parents to lessen the blow….

Somehow even though Sam’s birthday is in May..it always ends up being the hottest day of the year.

Last year, Mr. Gaga wasn't feeling well and swore he would never attend one of Sam's backyard parties again....

Last year, Mr. Gaga wasn’t feeling well and swore he would never attend one of Sam’s backyard parties again….

Kid’s birthday party when it’s not their birthday: People around here just throw birthday parties when it suits them.  Your kid’s birthday is in January but he likes bounce houses? Pretend his birthday is in August and make everyone stop enjoying the beach so that they can be tortured in your yard!

You are moving away and your kid’s birthday is in December? Have the party in the summer before you leave!!

No …I am very sorry people but that’s not how it works.  And if you have a party on the kid’s fake birthday, don’t even think of inviting us again on the real birthday.  How many presents do you think I am going to buy for your kid?

Graduation parties:   I have no problem celebrating someone graduating from college or highschool.  This is no small feat.  However, the commencement for most colleges are in May, high schools are the end of June.  You have until July 4th to wrap this up.   Don’t come knocking on my door in August talking about someone graduating….the ship has sailed my friend.

Reunions: Remember last year when we went to the weeklong reunion of sorts with Mr. Gaga’s family at the “Dirty Dancing” facility?  At least there was a pool there for god sakes.

As I mentioned earlier, we have all 9 months of winter to get together and drink and take trips down memory lane.  I’m not interested in doing that in the sweltering heat with no visible sign of a body of water.

There’s nothing worse than going to some weird picnic with people who you barely know.  To be surrounded by pot luck mayonnaise filled salads and people playing badminton in someone’s hot backyard is just not my cup of tea.

Invite me to meet at a bar in the fall, I will be there with bells on.

Engagement party:  Once we have a close friend or family member get engaged we all know that we are into this blessed occasion from anywhere from $500 to $2000.  Between the showers, bachelor parties, hotels, dresses, gifts, etc. you have to take out a second mortgage.

That being said – why do I have to kick off this money hemorrhage by giving you an engagement gift?

Especially since we are in our mid 30’s.  Just because you decided to stay single this long – don’t take it out on me.  I don’t need to watch you make out and profess your love to each other on a hot summer day….We will see you at the shower and the bachelor party and bachelorette party and the stag and the rehearsal and the wedding.  Really.  We don’t need to get off the beach for this.

Weddings on Holiday Weekends:  Have any of you ever been on the Interstate 95 in CT or NY? How was that experience? Was it enjoyable?

When I think of Satan at the fiery gates of hell, I envision the gates opening up to the I-95 somewhere around Stamford or the Bronx.

95 hell

If you venture onto this little interstate during the months of July and August on a summer weekend you might find yourself contemplating suicide.

If you add to this scenario July 4th or Labor Day, you would have to add 3 hours at least to reach your wedding destination in a timely manner.

It’s cruel and unusual punishment.

All I want to do is go to the beach, take an outdoor shower, enjoy some delightful summer cocktails, eat some grilled food items, eat smores, watch a firework and go to bed.

What I don’t want to do is drive on the I-95 for 10 hours, perspire excessively in some sweat box of a church, watch you and your family do the macerena, miss the fireworks and get back on the I-95 for another five hours home in the morning.

Showers:   Whether it’s for your pending nuptials or the birth of your child, if the sun is shining I don’t want to be there.

kristen-wiig-as-annie-in-bridesmaids-2011

There’s a beach chair and an US Weekly calling my name and I don’t need to sit here oohing and ahhing while you unwrap 50 Boppy covers.  I also don’t want to play “bridal bingo”  while you open pans and tank tops that say “Sexy little bride.”

In Bridesmaid, Kristen Wiig fulfills my every dream when she punches this heart cookie at her best friend's bridal shower and then stabs the Eiffel Tower with a knife....

In the movie Bridesmaids, Kristen Wiig fulfills my every dream when she punches this heart cookie at her best friend’s bridal shower and then stabs the Eiffel Tower with a knife….

I don’t care to eat some sort of chicken marsala dinner in the middle of the day followed by cake and coffee like I am 85 years old.

There’s nothing worse than going to a shower at 11:30 am and rolling out at like   4 o’clock on a Sunday afternoon in the summer.  You are blinded by the light after being held prisoner for so long and you just have to go home and go to bed because the whole day is destroyed.

This is what I looked like after I left a shower last summer...It seemed like I hadn't seen the light of day in years....

This is what I looked like after I left a shower last summer…It was like I hadn’t seen the light of day in years….

In closing, don’t take offense when I don’t come to your event this summer.

It’s nothing personal, it’s just that I just have olive skin that needs some tanning…..

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

 

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Aging is a Bitch and so is Tina.


I have shared what a negligent mother I am in the mornings.

We usually wake up around 7:45.

The boys get dressed and do their hair, while I stumble around the kitchen, sans bra, throwing shit into their lunchboxes frantically.

They come down eat some cereal and then run back upstairs to brush their teeth. I sip coffee while they frantically come back down the stairs searching for shoes and backpacks.

The bus arrives at the end of our street at 8:05.

You can imagine that this schedule could get tricky.  One false move….

One fight over the hair gel, one missing shoe that cannot be found, one unsigned homework assignment, one discovery that there’s no bread or juiceboxes….and the whole thing falls apart.

Luckily, if we open our front door and the bus is pulling up to the bus stop, our bus driver, Rose, will always wait for Sam and Michael.  The kids will run for their lives down the street.

Since the last thing I ever want to do a mere twenty minutes after waking up is make small talk at the bus stop – I stopped going about a year ago.

I usually just watch them book down the street at warp speeds – make sure they get to the bus safely and go back inside.

I think a hundred yard dash is a healthy way to start the morning...

I think a hundred yard dash is a healthy way to start the morning…

 

Last week I bought Rose a gift card and the kids made her a card that said “Thank you for always waiting for us, you are a great bus driver!”

I placed the card on the table by the front door so we wouldn’t forget about it.

Monday morning I forgot to make sure the boys took the card.

Tuesday they remembered but Rose wasn’t driving the bus.

I called the bus company and they said they weren’t sure if Rose would be on the bus for the last two days of school, but they would be happy to forward the card to her if I mailed it to them.

The next morning, after the kids ran out the door I ran upstairs to get ready for work.  Although I usually watch them make it to the bus – it was the second to last day of school and I figured they would be fine.

I needed to get a head start on getting ready for work, as I was looking particularly hideous.  I had washed my hair the night before and it was in a wet frizzy bun on top of my head and my face was tired and puffy from allergies and black eye-makeup  was smudged around my eyes from the day before.

Nobody wants to see this first thing in the morning...

Nobody wants to see this first thing in the morning…

I needed extra time to blowdry my rat’s nest of hair and fix my mug.

I put on a work shirt and before I could strip off my yoga pants and take my hair  down, I heard Michael come back inside.

I peered down the stairs.

“It’s Rose!” he panted as he grabbed the card off of the table and ran back out the door.

Doubtful that Rose would actually wait this long for him, I peered out my bedroom window and watched Michael running down the street as the bus pulled away.  He kept running around the corner out of my view and I thought maybe she had stopped for him.

Two seconds later, he was walking down the street hysterically crying.

I ran outside. “What happened?”

“I told Sam to tell Rose to wait for me and he didn’t!” he yelled in between sobs. “I hate him – he’s the worst brother ever.”

“Ok well get in the car I will drive you to school.” I answered, standing on the front steps in my work shirt and yoga pants.

“I want to take the bus!” he wailed. “Quick try to catch the bus – maybe I can get on at the next stop!” he screeched.

I ran inside to put on some flip flops and quickly looked at myself and considered what I was about to do.

Nobody wants to see this first thing in the morning...

Nobody wants to see this first thing in the morning…

 

“But I won’t get out of the car,” I thought to myself and headed out to meet Michael in the car.  He was completely hysterical.  “When I find Sam I am going to beat him up!” he yelled from the back seat while I followed the bus route to no avail.

“I can’t catch the bus Michael – it’s not a big deal… I will bring you to school.  I am sure there’s a logical explanation for this.” I said peering back at his red face in the rearview mirror.

He was inconsolable.

“He’s the worst! I told him to tell her to wait for me and he just got on the bus and didn’t tell her to wait! I am going to find him and beat him up!” he wailed as I pulled into the school parking lot.

I had a real dilemma.

He was out of control.  What if he went and found Sam outside and they got in a fist fight?

I got out of the car.

“Now because of you – I have to get out of the car looking hideous.” I said between gritted teeth as I slammed the door shut.  “Let’s find Sam and figure out what happened.”

I threw my sunglasses on and ran through groups of chattering children towards the area where Sam’s class lined up.  Michael ran ahead of me.   As we got closer to Sam, Michael ran past and headed to his classroom.

I looked after him astonished. After all this he had apparently lost interest and I found myself standing alone in front of Sam’s class as they lined up outside the building.

“Hi Mom,” Sam waved smiling.

"What is wrong with you? Why didn't you tell Rose to wait for your brother?"

“What is wrong with you? Why didn’t you tell Rose to wait for your brother?”

“I forgot.” he shrugged.

I rolled my eyes under my dark glasses and turned and ran back to my car – praying that nobody would see me.

That afternoon when the kids got home I asked if they had resolved their differences.

“Oh yeah – it’s fine.” they answered nonchalantly.

“Oh great – after I had to go out in public looking like a lunatic.” I answered.

“Oh yeah,” Sam answered with a grimace.

“What? Why are you making that face?” I demanded.

He looked up at me with a pleading look on his face, “I don’t want to tell you…” he squeaked.

“Saammm….” I said slowly.

“I really don’t know how to tell you this….” he said quietly.

“Tell me now.”

“Well – do you know when you came up to my class line?” he said slowly.

“Yeesss…” I answered impatiently.

“Well when you left – this girl Tina in my class said to me “Wow – why does your mom have so many wrinkles?”

After they woke me up I went fucking ballistic.

After they woke me up I went fucking ballistic.

“Who said it Sam? Who is she?” I screeched.

“Tina Roode.” he answered gravely.

“No really  – What’s her real last name?” I demanded of him.

“It’s really Roode! and she’s rude!” he answered matter-of-factly. “And I told her, ‘Don’t ever talk to me again’ and then I ignored her.”

“But she just kept talking about your wrinkles all day.” he sighed.

“What the hell did she say?” I yelled.

“She just kept saying,” Your mom has wrinkles, your mom has wrinkles.” he said with exasperation.

“Sam – so help me God – you better never talk to this girl for the rest of your life. I don’t care if you are a senior in highschool – you better never NEVER!! have any interactions with her.  She is a very rude, troubled little girl and she has messed with the wrong person!!” I screamed as he looked at me like a deer in headlights.

I was beside myself.

I ran to the mirror and tried to imagine how I would look to a 6 year-old.

I mean I am pretty banged up - but not really that wrinkled per se......

I mean I am pretty banged up – but not really that wrinkled per se……

“I need Botox – this is horrible I am an ugly person.” I said to myself in the mirror.

“No mom you are very pretty.” Michael and Sam pleaded with me – their faces ridden with worry as their mother crumbled before their very eyes.

“Well except in the morning…” Sam said matter-of-factly.

I turned quickly and stared him down.

“No….he means because – you know ….you forget to wear bras.” Michael interjected to save Sam.

I laughed. “Well that’s true.”

I called Mr. Gaga at work and told him the story.

“Can you believe this fucking bitch?” I said venomously.

“So you are calling me at work to tell me that you have a war with a 6-year-old?” he answered impatiently.

“Are you not fazed that these children are fucking evil??” I asked in despair.

“I can tell you right now who’s mother’s looked like shit when I was in first grade and I would NEVER say it aloud when I was a child!!  What kind of horrible person would say such a thing?” I rattled on.

“I don’t know…” Mr. Gaga answered robotically.

“Well let me tell you – Sam is very attractive and there will come a day when this bitch will want to have sex with him and I am going to be sure that I shut it down real fast…” I said hysterically.

“Um – I have to go.” Mr. Gaga answered with disgust.

I hung up.

How dare a first grader make fun of a classmates mother to his face? Are children this troubled? How does a 6-year-old girl even know that calling someone “wrinkled” is the worst insult she could ever say?

I guess we can forget any hope of innocent sweet children after age 3 around here.

The Gaga’s need a ten week break from the evil and demented children of Goopville.

That last day of school could not come fast enough.

The irony is not lost on me that this all happened because the bus driver didn’t wait for Michael when he was simply trying to give her a card that said “Thanks for always waiting for me.”

It’s time for some sun and to spend time with people who won’t hurl insults at me or my children.

Does anyone know where I can find people like that????

HAPPY SUMMER!!!!

AFTER BEING VERBALLY ASSAULTED BY A FIRST GRADER I DESERVE A CLICK OF THE BANNER BELOW!!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Take me out of this ball game…


Besides it being Father’s Day it is also more importantly the last day of baseball.

It really couldn’t come fast enough.

I came home this afternoon and dumped the kids trophies off in the trophy room and felt like a weight was lifted off of me.

trophies

If you are currently thinking “Wow  – your kids must be amazing 7 and 8-year-old athletes to receive this many trophies!”

The answer to that would be “No – they suck…but this is the amount of trophies and awards that children receive in today’s world of overindulgence excessive accolades.”

I am so tired of 4-5 nights of practice/slash games. I am tired of taco and chicken nugget dinners night after night because we don’t get home until 8 PM. I am tired of stripping down the children and daily scrubbing and washing of baseball pants.

More than once I have woken up in the night in a cold sweat realizing that I forgot to wash the game pants and run down to the basement with a stain stick just in time.

Sam’s league is filled with kindergarteners who shit their pants and don’t know how to run bases and Michael has not played well this season – so sitting in a hot field to witness these games doesn’t interest me much.

With all of that aside - what I am most excited to be rid of as the season comes to a close is the BASEBALL PARENTS!

I think it’s not all that surprising when you come across Dads that are coaching and trying to live vicariously through their sons.

You know the type – the balding guy who coaches all the teams and screams and swears and acts like a complete douchebag.  The guy that makes an example of his own kid because you know…..his kid is the best ….and you know…he’s totally going to the majors.

I have an announcement to make Goopville:

NOBODY IS GOING TO THE MAJORS!!

GET A FUCKING HOLD OF YOURSELVES.

YOU DIDN’T MAKE IT TO A MAJOR LEAGUE TEAM. NEITHER WILL YOUR KID.

ACCEPT IT AND BEHAVE LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN.

These people act like complete maniacs.  They clutch their heads in despair as they watch from the sidelines, they pace back and forth and yell at their kids as thought their lives and futures depend upon their performance on the baseball fields filled with nine year olds.

Several sources (Ad Counsel, etc) have suggested that 1 in 16,000 HS players make the Majors. In most towns less than half of 12 y/o’s make the HS team. That would suggest a number somewhere upwards of 1 out of every 32 thousand kids that play in youth leagues will make the majors!!!

Nobody knows this.  Or nobody wants to believe this.  They have private baseball lessons and have their kids play baseball in the fall and spring and summer.  Some kids are in more than one league so they arrive to their second games tired and winded.

What is the point of all of this? If it’s not to make it to the big leagues than for what?

While I expect crazy dads in the youth sports arena – I was not prepared for all of the crazy baseball moms.

It starts the first week when you get an email from the “TEAM MOM” who is busy organizing the drink assignments.  This is when you get assigned a week when you are in charge of delivering a humongous cooler filled with Gatorade to the team to keep them “hydrated.”

I’m sorry – do we live in Cancun or Connecticut?

Are children so tired and thirsty that they need these huge chemical-ridden beverages?

Are children’s electrolytes that depleted that they need to consume large lemon lime beverages filled with poison?

I don’t believe in sodas and sports drinks and they are banned from my household – but magically just because “TEAM MOM” fails to read or watch DR. OZ – she has arranged things so that my children are suddenly downing flame retardant disguised as a “sports drink” necessary to getting through the game.

Our kids are soft Connecticut kids that are playing spring baseball for an hour.

They don’t deserve a sports drink.

 

If your son looks like this with blood, sweat and tears dripping down his face - then give him a Gatorade...Otherwise water will suffice.

If your son looks like this guy -with blood, sweat and tears dripping down his face – then give him a Gatorade…Otherwise water will suffice.

 

Now after all of the beverages are organized there’s the actual watching of the games.

I usually bring a chair and some magazines to sift through while I pretend to watch the game, but I end up reading the same page over and over again because I am surrounded by mothers that won’t SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Last weekend a monstrous beast that had clearly escaped from the women’s prison mom was shaking the fence while screaming at the children during the game, and then at the end of the game got in a fight with the umpire!

I can’t even think straight with all of the noise these women make and inevitably end up with a blinding headache from all of the chatter.

“Choke up!” “Good swing!” “Shorten up!” “Oh -don’t swing at that!” ” See the ball!” “Bad call!” “Hands Back” “Stay down!” “Nice spot!” “Oh- you gotta hit that!” “Oh – you gotta catch that!””Nice throw!”

It’s never-ending.

I feel like I am sitting next to like 5 Harry Caray’s…..

Literally this is what I have to listen to while I am TRYING TO READ ABOUT TORI SPELLING’S BROKEN HEART!!!

 

 

One of the mothers actually gets a babysitter to stay home with her two young children so that she can pay attention to the game!

I asked her why she would do such a thing.

“Well – when the baby is here – I miss parts of the game.  I am busy watching her and I can’t concentrate on the game,” she explained.

“Well, luckily you are not George Steinbrenner -so it’s really not so imperative that you watch every minute of the game…” I answered smartly.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“What the hell?” I stared at her to see if she was kidding but she clearly wasn’t.  “I can’t believe you act like Annie Savoy from Bull Durham and you don’t even know who George Steinbrenner is….” I said in disbelief.

“What’s Bull Durham?” she asked innocently.

Then I realized.

These bitches don’t really know anything about baseball except what they learned in Goopville!!!

It’s so easy when you I am surrounded by mothers that are giving play by plays and acting as though they know everything there is to know about America’s favorite past-time to feel as though maybe I should care more.

Maybe I should put down the US Weekly and take a little more interest in watching these 9 year olds play baseball.

But probably not.

It’s just a game after all.  Somehow parents across America have lost sight of that and it’s sad.

 

 

 •A good friend of mine used to say, "This is a very simple game. You throw the ball, you catch the ball, you hit the ball. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains." Think about that for a while.


A good friend of mine used to say, “This is a very simple game. You throw the ball, you catch the ball, you hit the ball. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains.” Think about that for a while.

 

And with that all I am worrying about is getting through the last week of school!

Goodbye baseball fields and hello BEACH!!!!!

PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME FOR THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!!  Happy Father’s Day to my dad and to MR. GAGA and to all fathers!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Crushing Spirit Week


June is hectic.

There’s a lot of baseball happening, coupled with end of the year school ceremonies and shows.  In addition, Mr. Gaga’s work schedule gets crazy in June and also my part-time job picks up as it’s a popular time of year for people who need “bras.”

We are just tired and hot and sick of everything – so I was secretly happy when Michael came home in the last week of MAY! and said that his teacher said there wouldn’t be any more homework.

“Why not?” I inquired.

“I don’t know….there’s a Jewish holiday?” he shrugged.

“What? The last day of school is June 19th..” I said looking at the calendar.

Printable-Blank-PDF-June-2014-Calendar

Is there a Jewish holiday that’s 20 days long? This sounds suspiscious….

 

Could it be that besides being Jewish your teacher is very lazy??”

“Oh well – I guess you won’t have to be stressed about homework during baseball season.” I sighed.

The next day Michael came home from school and ripped open his backpack excitedly to reveal a paper he had received from his teacher.

flier

He proudly put it on the refrigerator talking about how he would be wearing his Mets jersey to “sports day.”

I distractedly looked it over and went on to do something else.

I mean Spirit Week is nothing new.  We all participated in these days growing up so I wasn’t too interested.

This Monday started the week and the kids went off to school with their jerseys on and baseball hats.

They came home with tales of people with all sorts of fancy sports paraphernalia.

That night after dinner and showers, the kids were in their rooms busily preparing outfits for “Crazy clothes day.”  They both picked out mismatched outfits that they planned to wear backwards and Michael found a very funny hat in his closet.  He came out of his room with the outfit on to show me and Sam.

“Very wacky!” I chuckled.

He smiled to reveal the piece de resistance which was a pair of fake rotten teeth.

“Awesome Michael!!” I said, “This is a great outfit!”

Sam was quiet.  I looked over at him and asked what was wrong.  “His outfit is so good and mine is horrible!” he wailed bursting into tears.

Michael and I quickly found another “wacky hat” in the closet and that calmed him down.  Both boys put on their outfits and laughed at each other in the mirror.

It was time to go to bed.

“Wait!” Michael said as he peered at the paper outlining the rules of Spirit Week.

“No hats allowed!”

 

Screw you PTO!!!

Screw you PTO!!!

 

Sam threw his hat on the floor and threw himself on his bed in tears again.

“What stupid twat is behind these spirit rules?”  “No worries Sam!!” I said cheerfully while Michael frantically dug in his drawers to find something as exciting and wacky as the hat.

He came up with some shinguards and a headband and glasses that seemed to make Sam happy and the kids went to bed.

The next day they came home and were stressed out about Hawaiian Day.

I knew that neither child had a Hawaiian shirt and so I rummaged through their t-shirt drawers looking for something suitable.

“How about this?”

I held up a “JAWS t-shirt.  “Ugh, Mom – it’s not decade day.”

“I think Hawaiians have to watch out for sharks though…” I said as I pulled out two t-shirts that had surfboards on them. “Hawaiians definitely surf.” I said confidently.

They stared at me skeptically.

I pulled out bathing suits to pair with the t-shirts and Hawaiian leis leftover from Sam’s birthday party.

“Perfect!” I said proudly.

The next afternoon they came storming in.  Sam threw down his backpack with disgust.

“Mom – do you know that all the boys in my class had shirts on today with “Beach trees” and flowers on them?” he asked with exasperation.

“Ok – well since you aren’t Magnum PI- I am sorry that we didn’t have beach tree shirts available.” I answered back.

Does this like the kind of outfit that a 1st grader should have readily available?

Does this like the kind of outfit that a 1st grader should have readily available?

“And…” he continued, “this lei is made out of plastic.” he spat out while he took off his Oriental trading lei that cost 40 cents.

“Yeah…” I answered expectantly.

“Well, me, Michael and one other boy in the whole school had plastic leis!” he yelled.

“What are you talking about?” I asked with confusion.

“Everyone else had REAL leis!” he yelled.

“What’s a real lei look like?” I asked positive that he was very confused.

“They had real Hawaiian necklaces made out of real flowers! And girls had real flowers in their hair too!” he cried.

I stared at him in horror trying to figure out how people got their hands on real Hawaiian leis.

“And grass skirts!” he added.

“Ok Sam! Let’s just concentrate on the next day coming up – what is it?” I asked afraid to look at the evil spirit week flier.

“Oh, it’s decade day!” he said excitedly. “Me and my friends are going to be rappers.”

“Oh ok – from the 80′s- what will you wear?” I asked cheerfully.

He grabbed the ipad and found a picture of LL Cool J and explained that he would need gold chains and a hat.

Michael casually asked what decade the hippies lived in. I answered the 70′s and he matter-of-factly announced he would be a hippie.

This was the fourth night of this stupid ass week and I was at the end of my rope.

I went upstairs and stared at all of my gold chains leftover from the 80′s.  None of them looked like LL COOL J’s.

I thought about if I knew how to make a tie-dyed shirt and would it be ready in time for school tomorrow.

The answer was no.

I couldn’t take this week anymore, I was losing my mind.

I put the kids in the car. A quick trip to the nearest Party City and $40 later and everyone was happy.

The next morning when the kids got ready – I felt confident that there would be no complaints.

Clearly I was the best mother ever.

Their picture is blurred to protect their identity - but please know that there is a leather jacket, two sets of glasses, a peace necklace and a a gold ring and dollar sign necklace involved....

Their picture is blurred to protect their identity – but please know that there is a leather jacket, two sets of glasses, a peace necklace and a gold ring and dollar sign necklace involved….

I casually mentioned how annoying all of this was to my brother.

“Well that’s your fault – Mom would’ve rubbed her cigarette ashes all over my face and told me I was a bum.” he said with disgust.

“A bum? That’s not even a category…..” I answered.

“She would have said “there are bums in all decades and sent me on my way…” he quickly answered.

He was probably right – but like everything else with these children – I was succumbing to this over the top bullshit as a result of what the other parents were doing, creating an environment where my children think it’s normal to have a real fucking lei made out of exotic fresh flowers.

“So….did everyone love your outfits today?” I asked when the boys got home the next day.

“Oh yeah, three people had the exact same outfit as me in my class.” Michael mentioned casually.

“WHAT???” I screeched.  “So everyone is buying costumes at Party City for this?? It’s like Halloween?  No! It’s like a week of Halloween!” I said with disgust.

“What about you Sam?” I asked.

“Well – everyone wanted to wear my gold ring, but there was a kid in my class that wore a full Michael Jackson outfit and he had a red leather jacket and a glove that had sparkles all over it….” he answered with resignation.

I couldn’t wait for this week to be over.

“Ugh – what’s tomorrow?” I asked with disgust as we cleaned up dinner. “I can’t wait for this stupid week to be over, I wish Michael just had spelling homework and I didn’t have to work on full costumes every night like I am the costume designer for a Broadway show.” I complained to Mr. Gaga.

“Why?” he asked lightly.

“Well because apparently gone are the days when you can just wear a backwards shirt and a Mets t-shirt.  This is very intense!” I explained.

“I wish we were Jewish so we could have a 20 day holiday and the kids could just skip school….”

Mr. Gaga rolled his eyes.  “It’s about the kids being excited to go to school.”

“That’s the point of all of this? Are you fucking kidding me?? They stop teaching the children a solid month in advance of the end of the school year and then they think that if they dress up like they are at Woodstock then it will make a difference in their spirits?” I yelled.

Mr. Gaga ignored me as usual.

“Also – tomorrow is pajama day!! Why is it a treat to wear pajamas all day long? It’s slovenly and weird and disgusting.  How could that possibly lift anyone’s spirits?? Only losers that have no job and nothing to live for wear pajamas during the daylight hours??” I was getting very fired up.

Sam and Michael were already upstairs weighing their pajama options and Sam was once again for like the 5th time this week on the verge of tears.

“What now Sam?” I demanded.

“Well it’s just that my friends have pajamas that have different teams like the Giants or Jets on them….”he said quietly while he stared into his pajama drawer.  I picked out a pair of Superman and Mario Brothers and held them up.

“No, Mom those are embarrassing.” he pleaded.

Michael was having the same dilemma in his room.

“Ok well it’s going to be 85 degrees tomorrow, so I don’t know what to tell you.”

“We don’t wear NFL licensed sleepwear during the summer -and I’m not buying you pajamas for this stupid day.” I snipped while pulling out the clothes that they usually wear.

“This is what you should wear tomorrow – because this is what you wear to bed and you shouldn’t be embarrassed about it.” I said tossing the bedclothes on their beds and turned on my heel.

They weren’t happy but they listened to me.

Fuck you pajama day and the horse you rode in on....

Fuck you pajama day and the horse you rode in on….

 

I don’t know if the kids’ spirits have been lifted or not by all of this hippie and Hawaiian bullshit but all I know is that I can use a break from the pressures of parenting school-age children!!

Onwards and upwards – we are halfway through the 20 day June Hanukkah so that means a mere 10 days left of school!!!

Thanks GOD!!!

DON’T ALL LITTLE BOYS WEAR TIGHTY-WHITIES AND BEATERS TO BED???CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Wipe Out Party Wipes out Lady Goo Goo Gaga!


Every year for the past seven years, the day of Sam’s birth is very hot.

It is usually the kind of day where your makeup melts off of your face, that your clothes are sticking to your body and you are seeking shade when outdoors so you don’t throw up.

That is the day that I usually have Sam’s birthday party in the backyard.

For example – this was last year’s forecast for the Friday afternoon party:

Oopsie...At least I will serve alcohol to the parents to lessen the blow....

Oopsie…At least I will serve alcohol to the parents to lessen the blow….

Every year I freak out and fill up water balloons and set up slip n’ slides so that the kids won’t perish during his celebration.

Last year I think we just put out a sprinkler like total white trash in desperation.

I was not going to put myself in that position again. This year, the seventh year, I finally learned my lesson. I rented an inflatable water slide.

When I ordered I figured that would provide the main entertainment for the party while keeping the children cool at the same time. The gentleman on the phone recommended the “Wipe Out” slide and I trusted his expertise and booked it.

The theme of that party became “Wipe Out,” surfing, sharks and summer.

When we decided that we would have a summer themed party for Sam it was then that I thought to invite some people over for a summer kick off after this party was over.

Everything was super organized and perfect.

Summer was on its way and Sam would have fun with his friends and the Gaga’s would have a fun weekend of laughs and celebrations…..

accuweather06061001pop

I could not fucking believe it.

It started on Monday.  I figured the weathermen were just being dicks and tried to put the whole forecast out of my mind.

By Wednesday I was beside myself.

I rolled around in bed at night tossing and turning, unable to sleep while I considered whether or not I should cancel the party or risk having all of the children get electrocuted by lightning or murdered by “large hails” on the bouncy slide.

It was a real toss-up.

I would every two minutes periodically check my phone to compare and contrast all of the weather forecasts.

 

 

phoneweather

This is what my phone looked like for a solid week at all times.

I tortured Mr. Gaga incessantly.  I would call him at work all day.

“Hello?” he would say in a hushed tone.

“Have you checked the doppler?” I would shriek.

“No, I am in a meeting…what do you want?” he would ask with annoyance.

“The doppler hasn’t changed!” I wailed, “The storm is coming right at 4 PM when the party starts….what should we do?” I asked desperately approximately 10-15 times a day.

“Just wait….it might change.” he would say and hang up on me.

When he wouldn’t talk about it I would call the man who owned the inflatable company, (or as I got used to calling him the “Bounce House Guy.”)

Every day he would talk me off the ledge and tell me tales of other families and schools who would cancel their parties only to find that the weather is beautiful.  He suggested we just keep waiting to see if the weather forecast would change, as he pointed out that Connecticut weather was very unpredictable and often the weather forecasts missed the mark completely.

“Why do we live in this fucking asshole place?” I demanded to Mr. Gaga one night while I frantically checked my phone forecasts and he tried to sleep.

“It’s a horrible place…with a horrible quality of life, horrible weather…..I fucking hate it here!!”

He rolled over and ignored me.

By Thursday, I could barely function.  I hadn’t slept in days and I hadn’t prepared properly since I wasn’t quite sure if the party was a go, which was adding to my stress level.

“The bounce house guy” says we can cancel right up until that morning if we want….” I explained to Mr. Gaga.

“Hmm-hmm.” he answered.

“Well – but then should I make all of the cupcakes and cookies?” I asked bleary-eyed on Thursday.

At this point Mr. Gaga had stopped responding appropriately and would only stare blankly back at me or say things like “I want a divorce.”

We decided to just move ahead with our plans even though all of the weather reports continued to say that there was a 50 percent chance of a thunderstorm occurring right at 4 PM when the party began.

Now I had to get baking, cleaning and organizing Thursday night after a week of no sleep and stress.

I was in a bad mood while I frantically baked beach cupcakes and barked out orders to Mr. Gaga.

Even though I was delerious I was still able to create lovely beach scenes on these cupcakes....

Even though I was delirious I was still able to create lovely beach scenes on these cupcakes….

 

At one point I was covered in blue frosting thinking of some items I needed to buy at the store – I called out to Mr. Gaga to write out a list for me as I named the items I needed.

“Why don’t you write a list for me?” he asked just to be annoying.

“Do you think I look like I want to play fucking games with you right now? Do you think this is a time to crack stupid jokes?!!” I screamed like a psychopath.

He just stared at me in horror.  He quietly wrote out the list and went upstairs.

When I was cleaning up at 2 am completely crazed I looked at the piece of paper he left behind and died laughing.

list

I woke up Friday at 5:30 AM and frantically checked all of the weather stations.

The storm was right on track – nothing had changed.

I set about cleaning and finishing up what needed to get done.  Mr. Gaga and I, desperately wracked our brains to think of what we would do if God forbid all of the children ended up in the house due to inclement weather.

“I’ll challenge them all to thumb-wrestling and arm-wrestling.  We can have an arm-wrestling tournament.”

I was so exhausted that it seemed like a good idea.

“Ok, and I will give them all tattoos -we can have an indoor tattoo parlor.” I answered positively.

The party was quickly going from a wipe-out summer splash party to a seedy reenactment of “Over the Top.”

overtop

 

Early in the day – the “bounce house guy” arrived with the water slide.

I guess I was so focused on my party plans that when he described to me the actual dimensions of the slide I hadn’t been listening.

He asked where the slide would be going.

I brought him to a small patch of grass in the backyard.

He stared at me in horror.

“Um…it’s going to take up more room than that….it will pretty much fill your whole backyard.”

Please lord let it stay sunny.....

Please lord let it stay sunny…..

But then …..a miracle happened.

At around noon – all of my hourly doppler radar detectors changed their tune!!

The rain was coming at 6 PM!!!

It was a “Wipe-Out” miracle.

I finished getting set up outside and after I put my gorgeous “surfboard cookies” in wrappers…..

cookies

I had about ten minutes to spare and I just needed a little release….

So I went down the slide in my clothes….

Twice.

Next year Sam’s party will be held inside of a movie theater to save my mental health and my marriage.

Besides, I will be wiped out from planning his communion.

 

AREN’T I LUCKY TO HAVE A HUSBAND WHO PUTS UP WITH MY ANTICS AND WEATHERMEN WHO ARE ALWAYS WRONG!!???  CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME – NOW I HAVE TO GO CATCH UP ON MY SLEEP!!!  XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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I miss Jane Fonda


God Lord you people just get so upset when I mention the word “fat!” Thanks for all of my supporters last week when I came under a firestorm of people who were very unreasonably upset with me and called me things like “a dark whisper” whatever the hell that means.

A big shout out to Lvital7019 who got my back and then said “NOBODY  PUTS FUNNY IN THE CORNER!”

I am so lucky to have such loyal and smart and funny! readers – especially during “fat” times or Beyonce times.

Speaking of which, at the end of the day I failed to toss my pistachio gelato per my mother-in-law’s instructions. I am just not great at dieting. I would much rather hit the gym.

I am not sure if it’s due to the fact that I allowed my children to shack up and swim around in my uterus for extended periods of time or if it’s just that I’m getting old, but my body no longer responds appropriately to motion and exercise.

I run, spin, do weights, elliptical. I take annoying boot-camp like classes where we are expected to keep moving for 45 straight minutes doing horrible things like burpees and mountain-climbers…whatever the fuck that means.

Apparently this is how to actually do a burpee:

I usually just do

I usually just do 1- then 4 and then 5 and pray that nobody notices….

Yet…I am still fat.
All of that motion and the scale never moves.

I just maintain this motherly-like figure.

It’s probably because I refuse to stop eating. However, I have long ago realized that I have to give up certain things. I gave up toast, bagels and cereal breakfasts, years ago and switched to egg whites.

Two years ago, I was complaining about being fat to my friend Martha, and she said “Well it’s probably because you still eat turkey sandwiches…”

She was right- I was regularly eating a turkey sandwich with low-fat cheese and mustard. I cut that out and only eat salads now.

But I do eat dinner….and ice cream…..and Cadbury mini-eggs at Easter time….and Sunday dinner with REAL PASTA – not gluten-free shit, and I drink wine and martinis.

What I don’t understand is why can’t I do all of that when I work out like a man who’s about to go to war?

When did women have to start working out like animals to just be sure that their muffin top won’t get any larger?

At what point did the world become a place where if you wanted to be skinny you had to give up all food and beverages and workout like Rocky?

We aren’t dudes!

When this lady from my bodypump class asked if I would like to meet for coffee after class - I was a little nervous....

When this lady from my bodypump class asked if I would like to meet for coffee after class – I was a little nervous….

 

Also – gone are the days where you can enjoy the comforts of a traditional gym.

In the 90′s my friend and I joined a gym.  We would spend hours there bouncing from machine to machine.  We would then retire to the steam room and possibly go into the tanning bed for a few minutes.

It was delightful.

Those days are over.

Now if you want to be really serious about your workouts you must drive down a dark alley into the most industrial park like area of your town.   You will park your vehicle outside of some sort of warehouse like building and you will enter into this warehouse and you will be met with various crazies that will bark out orders at you.

There will be A wipe board involved that will list what impossible and torturous tasks you must complete.

There will be no comforts.  There will be no tanning.  There will be no steam room.

Your workouts will be made up of unreasonable requests involving tires, ropes and weird shaped weights in dark warehouses with scary individuals that make you wish you were dead.

A friend posted this on Facebook this week promoting a local "gym" where this was the workout of the day......Yes that's two women flipping over a tire.

A friend posted this on Facebook this week promoting a local “gym” where this was the workout of the day……Yes that’s two women flipping over a tire.

In the old days – women never would do such a thing.

The really active and fit women of the 1980′s would simply “power-walk” around the neighborhood for a half hour and magically fit into some sort of leotard or spandex workout outfit and look fantastic.

giphy

Nobody would throw a tire around a dark alley!!

My mother used to eat basically whatever she felt like eating.

Once in a while, (without the benefit of a VCR) she would meander into the living room and take out her Jane Fonda Workout Book and follow along with Jane’s instructions.

 

After she did a few pages, she would smoke some cigarettes and then take a nap.   She weighed about 120 lbs and is 5'9.

After she did a few pages, she would smoke some cigarettes and then take a nap. She weighed about 120 lbs and is 5’9.

If someone told my mother to go to some dark warehouse and have some crazy guy who takes human growth hormone yell at her for 45 minutes and make her throw around tires and climb ropes – she would slap them across the face.

Just the other day she said “I can’t believe you run so much…that’s good that you enjoy working out.”

“No – I hate working out – I just have no choice.” I replied.

Look at Jane’s happy smiling face while she contorts her body into a perfect “v.”

Throughout the book – you can see that this is someone who “enjoys working out.”

In one of the classes I go to at the gym I actually do these leg lifts and it feels as though someone has ripped off your leg at your hip and is beating you with it....

Here she is wearing nylons, leg warmers and a legit 100% spandex leotard while she lifts her legs into painful positions…there’s nothing to smile about here.

In one of the classes I go to at the gym I actually do these leg lifts and it feels as though someone has ripped off your leg at your hip and is beating you with it….

It’s not fun.

It’s not funny.

It makes me want to die every week….

 

Here I am trying to just get through the morning....

Here I am trying to just get through the morning….

Here I am after doing one burpee while the rest of the class did 25....

Here I am after doing one burpee while the rest of the class did 25….

The hard work will continue for sure now that bathing suit season has begun.

But can someone tell me an easier way to maintain my rusty old muffin top??

HAPPY BATHING SUIT DAY  MEMORIAL DAY!!!  PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Only as skinny as your fattest child…


I will never be a skinny person.

I resolved myself to that long ago.

However, I was not prepared – and I don’t think anyone can be prepared for how your body blows up and deforms during pregnancy.

I remember looking at my arms in the mirror and just being appalled at how fat they were.

They still look like that today.

That being said – I can’t not eat.

My fat arms do not deter me from eating pizza and pasta and drinking wine.

I guess I never got the memo that said if you eat a lot of pizza when you are pregnant your upper arms will grow to have the same circumference as your thighs and never go back to normal...

I guess I never got the memo that said if you eat a lot of pizza when you are pregnant your upper arms will grow to have the same circumference as your thighs and never go back to normal…

While many women I know survive on air and pills gluten-free and Paleo diets and wear size 2 Lululemon outfits, I consider my eating and drinking part of enjoying life – and I would rather go to the gym everyday (and still be fat) than give it up.

While I know that I will never be skin and bones – what I do not find acceptable is FAT children.

I see fat children and hate them and their parents instantly.  I famously once got in trouble at my job at a PGA Tour Golf club when a fat little boy kept buying hot dogs and candy on his parent’s charge – and I refused to serve him anything else until he swam some laps in the club pool.

So after a long winter of my little Italian son being covered up in velour Puma tracksuits and his leather jacket, I was appalled when he recently put on shorts without a shirt on a warm day.

“Um…Sam is fat!” I whispered to Mr. Gaga in the kitchen.

“I know.” he said nonchalantly.

“What?!! What are we going to do?” I screeched.

I knew what to do. I started denying him goldfish and crackers that he eats with his skinny Irish brother and started filling him with fruit and vegetables.

Dare I say – I was a little relieved when he had strep throat last week -and seemed to slim down after a couple of days of stomach upset.

The thing is – I pride myself on not giving my kids soda, candy, or fruit snacks.  We don’t eat a lot of processed cookies, no potato chips, no hot dogs or lunchables.

We don’t eat fast food and we are fairly active.

So I just chalked Sam’s weight gain to the fact that he might not be as active as he should be and that he will thin out now that it’s spring.

Also, Michael eats non-stop all day and is skin and bones, and I think sometimes Sam eats what his brother eats and

clearly has a different body type.

My mother-in-law was here this weekend to put the kibosh on my attempt of brushing off Sam’s weight.

“I noticed that Sam’s getting fat.” she said abruptly as I was attempting to enjoy a cocktail after a long work day.

Maybe if I drink this wine really fast - I can drown her out....

Maybe if I drink this wine really fast – I can drown her out….

 

“Yes -I know….” I answered.  “But I don’t know what to do….”

“You know what to do.” she sniffed.

“Oh my God! I know he’s a little chunky – but is he like the kid in Stand by Me and I just don’t see it because I’m his mother?” I asked desperately.

 

 

In the 80's I thought this kid was grossly obese...now when I look at him...he's not THAT fat.....

In the 80′s I thought this kid was grossly obese…now when I look at him…he’s not THAT fat…..

 

Oh my God -Is my fat-kid radar broken? Is God punishing me for being mean to fat children and their parents and making fun of their huge sodas?

“Well he looks ok in clothes, but you can see that he has a fat roll hanging over his shorts right here….” she said while she simultaneously leaned over and…

GRABBED MY MUFFIN TOP AND SQUEEZED IT.

OK, it's one thing to call my kid fat - but now you have gone too far.....

OK, it’s one thing to call my kid fat – but now you have gone too far…..

 

I tried to defend myself again.

“Well – it’s hard because like if Michael wants ice cream, I can’t tell Sam that he can’t have any…”

“How about you just don’t buy ice cream.” she answered smugly.

Well I was speechless.

“But I want to eat ice cream…” I whimpered defeated.

Was she not only calling Sam fat but me too?

I know she might be right – but have you had the Talenti Sicilian Pistachio Gelato???

It’s to die for.

Maybe I will eat some right now and start a new diet for me and Sam tomorrow…..

I mean really – like parenting isn’t hard enough.  Now we have to constantly fight against our fat American children blowing up into huge blimps!!

I guess on top of all of my other household duties, trying to be a good Tiger mom and working, I will add running a Weight Watchers Clinic and fat camp to my to-do list.

A mother’s work is never done.

Michelle Obama would hate me.

 

 

 

hbb

 

I KNOW YOU ARE ALL GOING TO BE HORRIFIED TO FIND THAT I HAVE A MOTHER IN LAW THAT GENTLY SUGGESTS THAT I STOP BUYING ICE CREAM. CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO EASE MY PAIN.

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