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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.


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.


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!!!







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…..


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.




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.


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.”



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…..


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

So I went down the slide in my clothes….


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.







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.


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??




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 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…


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.










Mother’s Day gifts that suck

You might not have noticed but I am not exactly warm and fuzzy.

It’s a blessing and a curse.

As a mother, I find that it can be difficult to interact with small children when you are blunt, enjoy swearing and call kids assholes.

My children don’t really know entirely how not warm and fuzzy I am yet – because I reserve whatever warmth and fuzz I do have – for them.

However, Mr. Gaga knew that when the children decided to make me something for Mother’s Day – that he should prep and warn me – so I could plan to arrange my face and reactions appropriately.

“So the kids wanted to make you a gift this year.” Mr. Gaga said a few days ago.

After everything I do for those motherfuckers “OK – that’s fine.” I said smiling. “I love homemade gifts.”

“They worked really hard on it and they are really excited – so I just want you to know that.” he practically pleaded.

“Ok – I am sure it will be fine – what do you think I am going to like throw it in the garbage or something?” I asked.


I wondered what it could be.

It could be really bad.

I was watching the Today Show at the gym and they were featuring “Great Gifts for Mom” and I started to get a bit nervous.

First they suggested an engraved rolling pin:


Oh great....a fucking rolling pin...that says Mothers Day I will never forget the day that I received a rolling pin as a GIFT!

Oh great….a fucking rolling pin…that says Mothers Day 2014…So I will never forget the day that I received a rolling pin as a GIFT!


Natalie Morales droned on and on showing different weird jewelry and floral options and then at the end she talked about this great idea!! How about giving mom a balloon? A BALLOON???




I am sorry if this seems bitchy - but nobody better give me a balloon....

I am sorry if this seems bitchy – but nobody better give me a balloon….

Apparently it’s not any balloon – it’s extra-large and it has a fancy tassel instead of a regular old piece of string.  See below how happy the featured mother is with her child in matching clothes and her fancy balloon…


If someone handed me a balloon after all of these years of ass wiping, barefoot lego stepping and playdate attending – I’m not sure I could be that pleasant about it.

Thankfully, the kids and Mr. Gaga are busy at work and school during the Today Show so I was pretty safe.

Maybe it would be something for the yard – I got a pit in my stomach when I saw this on Pinterest:

God I hope my kids don't plant flowers in a pair of "jorts."

God I hope my kids don’t plant flowers in a pair of “jorts.”

Does a mother in America actually receive this as a gift and not bust out laughing??

I think my family knows that I don’t really care about gardens or flowers, or any living things in general -plus they would know that I am a judger of fashions so they would most likely not make this…..come to think of it- what if God forbid they made something for me to wear….


I saw this in Country Living Magazine and it was tagged as “Mother’s Day Crafts She Will Love.”

How about "Mother's Day crafts that she will light on fire if you even think of making them...."

How about “Mother’s Day crafts that she will light on fire if you even think of making them for her….”


Maybe they will just make a cute card or something like that…..

I hope they wouldn’t involve their butts to make it – like this child….


If my husband and kid made this for me I would be really pissed….


I would be like – “You fucking assholes sat in paint?”  And I would say to Mr. Gaga – “So my gift is orange paint all over my child’s asshole and penis and probably his clothing that were destroyed during this process…all for this hideous picture?  Then we would probably get into a fight because I would say something like “Um, where’s my real gift??”

That could get bad.

What if it is something for the house? I saw this little masterpiece on Pinterest last week….

I can just picture my kids coming into my bedroom with this saying “Look we made you a new Serving Tray!” is your underwear drawer and putting cookies and mason jars inside it does not make it a serving tray.

Um…no dipshits…..This is your underwear drawer.  When you put cookies and mason jars in becomes “your underwear drawer with cookies and mason jars in it.”

But all of my worries were for nothing!

Thankfully – this morning I was pleasantly surprised with the coolest homemade gifts from my children – who really get me.

They are very smart and intuitive boys that must be raised by MR. GAGA  a very cool mom.  They clearly know at the young ages of 6 & 8 that they have to think outside of the box to please their mother…..

First Michael wanted me to see his creation that he did last night before bed so it would be ready first thing this morning when we woke up:


Then they presented me with a homemade coupon book.

Each coupon offered normal services that kids would offer their mother; car washing, cleaning, spa services….



And when they made a few of those – I guess they probably looked at each other and said “Let’s be honest….all that bitch cares about is eating….”

That's right - this coupon says that they will "get me food whenever I want."

That’s right – this coupon says that they will “get me food whenever I want.”


These boys know their mother.

And finally – in a final act of love for their mother they presented me with a special surprise at dinner.


It’s a burger and fries fake-out!!

It’s a brownie between two cupcakes and sugar cookies made into fries!!

I mean who could possibly want anything else?

Despite the fact that I have dedicated three solid years to blogging about what an outrage motherhood is – on days like today – dare I say it…….IT’S A BLESSING!!!!!





Pampering in Goopville

I am so over it.

I am over work.  I am over school.

I am basically over other humans and all of their shit.

I am sick of looking at women with cameltoe wearing Merrills, and I am sick of people at work being bitches, and I am sick of sick children and being sick myself.  I am sick of the winter.

I have been in a real rut.   I am ready for a break from at all.

Sam’s birthday is coming up and we are going to have our usual backyard kid’s party.   I decided that we should also have a little summer kick-off party after the kids leave.

A fun party with friends would be just the thing to get me in a good mood.

I got to work on Sam’s invites.

Once I was finished I felt much better.

Michael walked by the computer while I was finishing up.

“MOM!!! That is NOT a good invitation for Sam’s party!” he said with horror.


“Why are you calling Sam’s birthday a cocktail party??!!” he demanded.

“Shut up and go to bed…  Don’t be silly!” I answered.

As long as there’s a cake involved I am sure Sam will be fine with it……

Just when I was starting to feel like I was starting a new happy spring chapter of 2014, an angel from above sent me a message.


Well what a wonderful idea!!

Thank you universe and MASSAGE ENVY!

I consider myself to be an expert on spas and beauty services.  In my old life before I became worn down by all of these children, I was quite a snob about such things.

I have been to some of the ritziest spas and salons.  I have had some very expensive and luxurious massages and facials.

When Massage Envy opened up nearby in a strip mall, I never really considered it basically because…..well…

….it’s in a strip mall.

I was very excited when I arrived.  When I got out of my car and looked up I realized I had been short-sighted in my quick dismissal of this establishment.

When I ever imagine going to heaven (yes bitches I am going to heaven – just because I don’t agree with all of the motorized carts in Disney doesn’t mean I’m disqualified)I imagine heaven to be a place that is a beautiful serene world where someone will be rubbing me down with massage oil and I will be totally relaxed…..and the pearly gates will be made out of sandwiches and macaroni.



Oh – hello heaven….

Upon entering, it was like I arrived into a different world. It was as though I wasn’t even Goopville anymore.

Everyone there was pleasant for starters.

I sat down to fill out some paperwork and watched my surroundings.

People were coming out from the back rooms with big dopey relaxed smiles on their faces.

Everyone was just so thrilled to be alive in this place!! “I want to live here!” I thought.

As I continued to people watch, a woman came out of her massage and went to the front desk and asked for a donation for a charity she was working for.

I used to work for a nonprofit – so I knew that they would obviously just tell her to send them a letter of request.

“Of course we will donate to your cause!” the girl at the desk replied eagerly.

I couldn’t believe it – this place really was like heaven!

Shortly, Angelica came to get me for my massage.  Even though I had enjoyed the lobby – I wasn’t completely convinced that the massage would be up to my very elitist standards.

I was in for a treat.  The massage was one of the best I have had.  I felt so relaxed and stress-free as I waited for my facialist.

My facialist came in and was very thorough while addressing all of my skin concerns and diagnosing what type of facial would be best for me.

“Um, ok…I think you could benefit from the anti-aging facial.” she said sweetly.

“SCREW YOU FACIALIST! I AM NOT WRINKLED!”    “Okay.” I answered back – happy to know that someone was willing to spend an hour making me look less weathered.  She used very good quality MURAD products that felt and smelled wonderful.

The facial was very relaxing and my skin looked hydrated and fresh when I left.

I was too tired and relaxed to do anything in the house after all of this pampering, so I sent Mr. Gaga a text to warn him……he never responded.



The next day I was halfway through the day and remembered that I didn’t put any undereye concealer on and I DIDN’T LOOK TIRED!!!!!

Let’s just say the last time that happened was before children.

I feel much better now and I strongly recommend going to Massage Envy!!  Tell your husband and children to send you for Mother’s Day!  It’s really for the safety and wellness of those around you!!





Clothes Call

Last week some Florida schools were considering creating a mandatory dress code for parents.



I know we are all thinking the same thing.  Florida schools are some of the worst in the country, surely they should be talking about teaching the children to read or spell or something.

However, before we are too quick to point out how dumb they are …..they might be on to something.

I know I wouldn’t mind if the Goopville Board of Ed put their foot down and started making some dress code rules around here.

I have drafted some guidelines for when they are ready to make it happen.  I am guilty of some these offenses and I think it would be nice if we could all get our acts together so that we don’t all mill about at our children’s school looking like a bunch of meth addicts:

Dress Code Rule#1 – Pajamas should not be worn after 8 am:

Listen you crusty disgusting pajama wearers…just how bad is your life that we have to look at this?

You can’t wake up like 5 minutes earlier and put on a god damn outfit?

What kind of message are you sending to your children and my children when you arrive anywhere (even the bus stop) in your crusty Old Navy performance fleece pajamas?

Is life such a struggle for you that you can’t take two minutes and throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt?

Just because you are not attending a workplace environment does not give you the license to wear sleepwear during the daylight hours.

I mean does your husband come home from work to find you in the pajamas you slept in the night before? It’s bad enough for those of us who unfortunately have to interact with you at the school but how long do you think you’re going to pull this before he gets a girlfriend?


GET DRESSED PEOPLE!! It takes two seconds, and it let’s us know that you haven’t given up on life.


Dress code rule #2 – Stop wearing ugly shoes.

If you stop wearing sleepwear – please don’t take your feet out of slippers only to slip them in to something unsightly.

I understand everyone might not follow the fashion trends and keep up to speed on all of the hot footwear news.  I am totally guilty of attending the kids’ classrooms in Uggs or Nikes.

However, I cannot understand why here in Goopville I see many, many women and MEN who arrive to pick up their children or volunteer at their child’s school wearing jeans and this shoe:


This is a Merrell for those of you fashionable people who don’t know about such offensive things.

It’s for people who care SO  MUCH that their FOOT IS COMFORTABLE that they actually put these on every morning and head out the door!!!

People in this town just walk around with these bad boys on with a pair of white tube socks and mom jeans like it’s perfectly normal.

I’m sorry – are you actually hiking up Mt. Everest directly after school?

Do you have very bad bunions or corns on your foot and that requires you to wear geriatric like footwear?

Are you over the age of 70 years old?

Are you participating in the Tough Mudder competition after school?

I simply cannot fathom what would make a person wear these shoes around town as though it was perfectly acceptable.

DRESS CODE RULE #3 – No sweatpants, especially when worn by fathers:

First things first – sweatpants are pajamas in disguise.  You are not fooling anyone when you arrive in a public place wearing sweatpants.  Especially when they are of the elastic ankle variety.

Now, I understand it can get confusing because “workout clothes” have become somewhat the norm.

Somehow gym clothes have snuck into suburbia as acceptable daytime clothing.  I am guilty of it myself.  I go to the gym first thing in the morning and then I run a bunch of errands on my way home.  So basically I leave the gym with big sunglasses on,  zip my sweaty body into my lululemon hoodie and pray that nobody sees me.

However, I try to at least match and wear somewhat stylish gym clothes if I think I am attending the children’s school.

I certainly don’t arrive in sweatpants!

Many women wear their little lululemon outfits so that we know that they are very busy doing yoga and spinning and eating a gluten-free diet.

Then theirs the others that wear their sweats because they are too lazy to put on proper clothing.

The rule should be – if you arrive in exercise clothing – then you should be in some sort of fit shape.

MEN ESPECIALLY LISTEN UP! Don’t show up all fat and doughy wearing workout clothing to try to impress us….

Please wear some sort of loose-fitting Puma outfit or something.   Don’t wear sweatpants that are so tight I can see the outline of your balls for the love of Jesus!





This rule isn’t about “Dress” per se, but it’s about overall appearance.

At what point do you look in the mirror and see gray hair and an uneven, aging complexion and just smile and walk out the door?

Nothing says “I wish I was dead” more than a 38-year-old walking around with gray wiry hairs sticking out of a mangled ponytail that hasn’t been cut since the 1980’s and a rosacea filled face.

If you have gray hair and you are not in your 60’s then you must color the hairs.  It is very simple.

If you don’t have a lot of time or money you can do it yourself at home.

The same goes for your face.

“I don’t like to wear makeup.”

“I don’t like the feel of makeup on my face.”

“I don’t think I really need to wear makeup.”

“I don’t have time to wear makeup.”

My husband doesn’t like me to wear makeup.”


You look like a piece of shit.

I’m not quite sure what kind of glorious stuff you are seeing in the mirror in the morning but from where we are looking you can use a little something.

Here comes Heidi Klum walking down the street looking all naturally beautiful with no makeup on.  Does she say “I’m so beautiful that I am not going to wear makeup because I don’t need it?”



She puts on some fucking makeup.

Guess what?

Here’s the kicker.

You’re not Heidi Klum.


Whether it’s pajamas, yoga pants or your mom jeans -please choose clothes that are your size.

I know the years have not been kind, and believe me I have a muffin top that rivals no other.

However the children should not have to be subjected to seeing their friend’s mother or father wearing clothes that are too tight.

I see women that constantly wear too tight yoga pants that show every roll and cellulite dimple. And to add insult to injury I can see their maternity underwear outline perfectly.

Why are you subjecting us to this?

Why are you subjecting yourself to this?

Do you know that from the back you look like a garbage bag filled with doorknobs?

Do you know that when you are wearing spandex clothing you must wear a thong? It’s non-negotiable.

Is this because you have completely given up on life?

Also – have you considered the damage you are doing to the children if you go into the school to volunteer wearing clothes that don’t fit properly?

Do you think it’s fair to them that when they are trying to do their work at their desks they are at eye level to this?




Come on parents! Get your shit together!!!!

Let’s go back to the days when mothers cared what they looked like as to not embarrass their children.  Let’s give the children of America someone to look up to as civilized members of society; not someone who looks like a homeless ragamuffin.







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