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I have to reblog this each fall because it is my most read post of all time and because I already want to drop kick these Pottery Barn lunch boxes over the nearest cliff……Could it be possible that it’s not even mid-September and I am already sick of making my children lunch?


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gone are the days of the brown paper lunch bag.

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

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

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

Because that will never happen….

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait – could this be true?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I usually write things like:

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


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


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

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


Shit that makes me late for work that my husband doesn’t know how to do.

Between 2 long work days and various social obligations that included a sleepover with college friend, I pretty much left Mr. Gaga alone with the kids all weekend.  Friday morning I woke up early with my mind swirling.

Before I left the house I would need to pack my belongings and additionally I would have to “prep” everything so that things could run smoothly in the Gaga household without me.

I shoot out of bed in the mornings with lists forming before my feet even hit the floor of all of the little tasks that need to be completed.  While I come out of bed guns blazin’ ready to accomplish a lot, Mr. Gaga has more leisurely mornings that basically include one thing….



Imagine just waking up and only thinking about your bowels?? How luxurious!

Working women today are lucky that they have the opportunity to work- however, we don’t really have the luxury of being a working mother and turn off our stay at home mom brain.  Most men don’t think like us.  They don’t pay attention to detail.

Put simply – we have to do it all.

As I ran around frantically trying to remember everything and carefully lay out everything the kids might need for the next 48 hours, I was running out of time, and I was going to be late for work.  I started weighing whether I could leave certain tasks undone and rely on Mr. Gaga to complete them.  It was then that I realized that there is quite a bit that Mr. Gaga can’t or simply won’t do.

Here’s a list of some mom shit that Mr. Gaga ain’t got no time for:

#1 – Running the dishwasher:

Mr. Gaga might actually empty it.  There’s no way in hell he’s going to recognize that it’s full, lean over, fill it with detergent and run it.

One of his favorite activities is to rearrange the dishwasher.  I throw everything into the racks haphazardly trying to move on with my day, and run the bitch,  Not Mr. Gaga.

He will actually rearrange my loading work for a full twenty minutes.  He will line everything up neatly and make more room for dirty dishes, while yelling out “Who loaded this? Ray Charles?”

I decided I better run it Friday morning and lo and behold when I came home Sunday afternoon I had to run and load it again.

#2 – Wrapping a gift:

Sam had to go to a birthday party on Saturday night.  I had already secured the card and gift because Lord knows that Mr. Gaga has never even purchased a card or gift for his own children let alone somebody else’s.  

I was rushing up the stairs to hop into the shower and I laid eyes on the gift in the foyer.  I didn’t really have time to wrap it.  

Could Mr. Gaga wrap a gift? Would he wrap a gift?

I stopped on the stairs and had a vision of Sam showing up with a slip n’ slide under his arm with no card.

I wrapped it.

#3 Bathing:

When I hopped in the shower I made a mental note to remind Mr. Gaga to make sure the kids had showers.  This man has been known to “forget” to put them in the shower.   He has been known to say if they play in the sprinkler or hose, or especially if they go in a pool then that “counts as a shower.”

#4 – Wash and dry clothing:

When I got out of the shower and started getting dressed – it occurred to me that I had left Michael’s baseball uniform in the laundry.  Would Mr. Gaga think about this three days ahead of time and be sure to wash and dry the uniform so it would be ready for Sunday?

The answer was clearly no – so I ran downstairs to throw a load of laundry in.

#5 – Lay out appropriate clothing:

Faced with the laundry I thought – I better put out some clothes for the kids to wear otherwise Sam will arrive at his party looking like a lunatic.  Mr. Gaga generally has no regard for what is proper and acceptable attire at any given time.  He will let the children wear mismatch clothing that a homeless person would wear and think nothing of it.  He does that with the kids, because he actually does it for himself as well.

I put out fresh clean and matching clothes for the weekend for each child.  Mr. Gaga would obviously have to fend for himself.   This morning he had a football game to attend and then came home in a rush so that we could all head out to Michael’s baseball game.  I wasn’t paying attention and it wasn’t until we were halfway there that I looked down at his feet.

“What the fuck are you doing??” I screamed.

I startled him from his driving, “What?” he yelled back.

Are you wearing a fucking shower shoe with a sock to your son’s game?


He sure as shit was.

#6 – Eating healthy food:

I left homemade eggplant parm, pasta, and pizza for my family to enjoy on Friday night.  There were cold cuts for sandwiches and fruit.  I was confident that Mr. Gaga could at least figure out something for Saturday night.

“What did you guys eat for dinner last night?” I asked Sam this morning.

“Wings and onion rings sandwiches.” he answered promptly.

I mean really?? 

Is it so hard to understand basic health and diet guidelines established by the USDA?

This is the food pyramid in Mr. Gaga’s mind looks like:


#7 – Watching appropriate programming:

When I was running out the door, I remembered that the library books were due as well the Harry Potter DVD that we borrowed.  I sent a text to Mr. Gaga to return the DVD and have the kids pick out another movie if they wanted to.

How hard of a task could that be?

Well it seems that they thoroughly enjoyed the movie that Mr. Gaga suggested for them.  When I returned they were saying weird things to me, like “Your mom goes to college,” and “Are you going to eat your tots?”

It sounded familiar.

Then I was drinking water and Sam said this:



“You let them watch Napoleon Dynamite??” I yelled at Mr. Gaga.  “Really??”

And he said:




Like we don’t have enough snarky one-liners around here. 

Thank God I am home now so everything can go back to normal!!!






Upscale Cuts

I hate when programs change that have been working just fine – but apparently WordPress has done something so that I can no longer upload pictures.  So after I went from computer to computer and nothing worked, I had a complete nervous breakdown and smashed every computer to bits  called wordpress headquarters with a bomb threat  told Mr. Gaga I wanted a divorce

realized the problem wouldn’t be resolved tonight – I am just hoping that you can click on the links for pictures or …….

Use your imagination????


Anyways – when you shirk your parental duties from the last day of school until the first day of school, things can really get dicey.

I really meant to go out and do things that I needed to do.

It was just that each time I was going to head out and run some errands to get school supplies or clothes, or bring the child to necessary doctor appointments, I never was able to make it because it was just so…..


On the day before school started I finally decided to make a to-do list and start getting organized.

On the top of the list was to get haircuts for both boys.  Their hair had grown out into bleached shaggy haircuts appropriate for beach bums but not really for school.

And you know how I feel about parents who don’t get their children’s hairs cut.

“No!” both boys moaned.  “We don’t want hair cuts! We are growing out our hair…”

“Not on my watch you aren’t.” I stood firm.

Sam would not be easily swayed – as he is obsessed with his hair and his tan.  He spends hours looking at himself in the mirror combing his hair into different styles and his tan is a top priority and he is possibly the tannest 7 year-old you will ever lay eyes on.

I thought that I should actually show you so you can understand how tan he is, so I went into his room before bed and had him just pull down his shorts a tiny bit to show the line between white and almost black skin.  Just when Sam was peeling down his shorts and I was about to click the camera – Mr. Gaga came into the room and accused me of being a child pornographer and it got very weird and uncomfortable so I found an old picture of him playing on the beach that kind of shows what I am talking about…

This is Sam playing on the beach.....

This is Sam playing on the beach…..

I recently had seen a very young cool acquaintance and he had longer hair on the top and shaved on the sides with stars and crazy designs.  I had asked him where he got his hair done and he gave me the address where his cousin worked, a barber that was very talented at hair design.

This is what his hair looks like…..


I knew that Sam had wanted to have lines in the side of his hair during the World Cup like many of the soccer players, so I lured him into agreeing to a haircut by telling him I would bring him to this hair salon where the barber knew how to create a line on the side of his head.

Normally we go to a kid’s haircutting place where the stylists in no uncertain terms could not be trusted to do anything but a buzz cut.

This is what that place looks like…….


He excitedly agreed to go first thing Tuesday morning and Michael indifferently said he would come too.

Come to find out the salon didn’t take appointments.

I planned on going first thing when the door opened at 9:30 in the morning and then proceeding with the 500 other places I needed to go after that.

The place was about twenty minutes away and my acquaintance had said when he told me the address that it was behind the “7-11.”  That didn’t make sense to me – but what do you know it was in a little building behind the “7-11″ and it was called “Upscale Cutz.”

That little “z” in “cuts” should have been a warning.  But I was determined to get these kids a cool haircut and I paid the grammatically incorrect sign no mind.

When we entered the door we had clearly traveled into a new uncharted territory.

The place was filled with men and teenage boys.  There was a movie playing on a tv screen on the wall and there were a bunch of kids playing video games.   I stood just inside the door with both boys next to me.  I kept my sunglasses on and stared at everyone from behind the safety of the dark lenses.  They stared back at me.

This was clearly not “Snip-Its.”

We had crossed over completely into the world of the “barber shop.”

This is what that looked like…


“Can I help you?” said the one barber while he was buzzing someone’s head.  He was an extremely large man with quite possibly the largest camoflague shorts on I have ever seen and his feet where in what I refer to in my household as “shower shoes.”

“Um…they need haircuts.” I said gesturing to the two boys.

“Ok – well all of these people are before you.” he said nodding his head towards the 15 men that were already waiting.  “It’s going to be awhile.”

I watched as he shaved the guy’s head and did some quick math and thought he would be able to be done quick enough and it would be worth it to have a cool back to school haircut.

It was 9:30 – even if we were out by like 10:30 or 11:00, I could still get everything done that I needed to.

We made ourselves as comfortable as we could while sitting on a folding chairs and waited and watched the show.

I soon realized that there were in fact even more people than I had originally calculated, and they apparently didn’t even want their hair cut.  They seemed to be just there for fun.   The men cracked jokes and talked about sports while we waited.

Angry mothers came in several times, speaking Spanish, but I think they were asking how long for a haircut for their kids, and stormed out cursing out the barber.

One woman spoke to the barber in Spanish and then on the way out screamed in plain English, “I’m done with this fucking bullshit.” before pushing through the door and PEELING OUT of the parking lot.

I caught a glimpse of Michael during this little interaction.  This is what he looked like:


I started to get antsy and looked at the clock, it was 10:30 and we were nowhere near being next.

I had already invested an hour, I would stay a bit longer, I decided.

Next thing we know, a man comes in who was either possessed by the devil or had done so much drugs that he had turned into a zombie.

He walked stiffly, seemingly in some sort of trance as he pushed the door open.

He came barging in staring straight ahead at his reflection in the mirror and was making the sign of the cross repeatedly.  He was holding a “Table Talk” pie and sometimes he would stop making the sign of the cross and he would look at his pie wide-eyed in horror.  He was dripping with sweat.

I clutched the kids.

Everyone was afraid.   Finally the barber asked him if he was alright.  The guy didn’t answer.  By the fifth time the barber asked – he announced he was waiting for a haircut.  He turned to look at the room for a seat and of course the only seat in the whole place was right next to Sam.

I was horrified as he looked at the chair and then looked at us.

This is what that looked like….


As he came lumbering over, I ripped Sam up from the chair and told him to flee to the other side of the room.  I was brave and stayed put, one seat safely between us.

The zombie took his blueberry Table Talk pie and began shoving it in his face ravenously, making strange noises and rubbing blueberries all over his mouth.

I had to get up and run to the other side of the room.  I felt sick to my stomach, it was hot and now I couldn’t even sit down.

Thankfully after about 20 minutes, he got up threw the box in the garbage and left.

The whole place breathed a sigh of relief.

I sat back in my chair.  “Now Sam,” I whispered.  “When you get your turn you need to tell him that you want it to just be trimmed on top and a line on the side.”

“I know.” he answered.

Every few minutes I would check in with him and see if he had changed his mind.  “What are you going to ask him to do?” I would ask in a hushed voice.

“Just one line or zigzag on the side.” he would whisper back.

At 12:30!!! it was Michael’s turn.  He was not interested in any design so he got his regular haircut and Sam was up.

“Don’t forget what to say,” I whispered in his ear as we approached the barber chair.
He nodded his head up and down seriously as he hopped into the chair.

He looked nervously up at the barber and didn’t speak.

I jumped in and described the haircut we had discussed.

“So we were thinking just like one line on the side…” I said sweetly.

The barber kind of listened to me but was focused on Sam.

“You want me to do a freestyle design for you brother?” the barber asked Sam- “man-to man.”

Sam stared back at him.


“Ok – I will just give you a freestyle.” the barber said as he cut his buzzer ready.

I stared at Sam’s eyeballs and tried to send him a message saying “THIS IS NOT WHAT WE PLANNED! WE NEVER DISCUSSED THE FREESTYLE!!” but he just shrugged.

Without sounding too wimpy I needed this freestyle business to be curbed a bit….

“Um…can we just do a small section of “freestyle?” I asked.

“Sure.” the barber shrugged.

I ran back to my chair, wondering what the fuck a “freestyle” haircut was.

Well here it is -a freestyle back to school haircut.


And there’s never been a happier customer.  And after three long hours of torture and zombies eating pies this masterpiece cost me $5.

We will be back.  For the price, the entertainment and for the sheer joy I will have telling the other Goopville moms that Sam got his haircut at “Upscale Cutz” when they surely will be wanting to know where their little angels can have such a fancy “freestyle” cut.





Ain’t nobody got time for that…

As the summer comes to a close I have to face the harsh reality that the children are going back to school.

I am not going to allow myself to spiral into a depression.

I am going to refuse to worry about the insignificant nonsense that I get caught up with during the school year.

Here’s some shit that I am not going  to have time for this year:

 #1 – Homework:

I will have my children do their homework, as much as I can, but guess what?

As I tell my children regularly when they ask me for help with their homework…

I already fucking passed the fourth grade.  I already passed the fucking second grade.

So that means that these children have to do their best and hope that they too can pass their grades.

It’s not my fucking problem.

This is not China.

I’m not going to micromanage all of this spelling and reading and math.

Figure it out kids.


#2- Organic Food

I mean – I can’t keep up with this.

First of all – I don’t have the time or energy or funds to purchase everything grass-fed from the farmer’s market or Whole Foods.

I mean are we really all going to die if we eat a little bit of high fructose corn syrup and red dye #40?

Yes? We are?

Well then…I guess we will die happy and fat.

I try – I really do.  In my effort to neglect the children in the morning while simultaneously giving them good food – I purchased organic pomegranate toaster pastries this summer while at my parent’s beach house.

When my father woke up and saw them in the cupboard he was very alarmed.

He picked the box up and stared at it blankly.  “Who the hell eats this shit?” he asked.

“It’s organic…and made from pomegranites.” I said knowingly.

The next day he arrived arms filled with boxes of chocolate and strawberry frosted Pop Tarts.

“I thought the kids should have proper Pop Tarts.” he announced.

Then he started comparing the labels.  “Look at this!” he said excitedly as he read from the Kellogg’s Pop Tart label, “It’s a good source of 4 B vitamins and a good source of 6 vitamins and minerals!”


Then we looked at the organic toaster pastry label.


Fuck it.

 #3 – Playdates and parties:

I am just not getting roped into any of this bullshit any more.  I am too old for this.  My kids are too old for this.  I purposely had a baby and then filled my uterus with another baby when the first baby was a mere 6 months old.  I was tortured with two babies for a solid three years.

The benefit of all of that was to have two children who could play together.

Then why the hell do I have to play all these playdate games with people?

That lady that stood me up for the playdate? I never rescheduled.

The first two birthday party invites we received for the fall…..they are in the garbage.


#4 Assholes

I regularly open my email and notice that people have commented on old blog posts.  My most popular posts that people continue to comment on include my Disney post and my Pottery barn post.  I have learned that there are a lot of angry people in this world and Americans will never stop being mad at me for talking shit about Disney World, fat people in motorized carts and people that consume huge vats of Diet Coke.

Still – even though I know that there are many troubled people in this world it still is sometimes troubling to open up my email and see a message from “FUCKYOUCUNT.”


I just don’t know why people who hate me so much take time out of their day to send me this type of message.  I will continue my efforts to make fun of shit that’s fucking funny like enormous humans that wear Mickey Mouse ears like its’ their job and people that make sandwiches into tic tac toe boards for their kids.

If you don’t enjoy my commentary – there’s a “back” button on the upper left hand corner of the computer screen.

Click it motherfuckers.

I enjoy people who laugh until they pee in their pants.

If you aren’t one of those people then we can’t be friends.

And speaking of peeing in your pants….

#5 – Bladder control 

Sometimes I worry about my poor bladder control.  I mean since I have given birth my bladder just isn’t what it used to be.  If I sneeze   cough   drive my car over a speedbump laugh really hard  – I have been know to have a little bit of a gallon dribble of pee come out.

Sometimes I worry about what will happen to me as I age.  Should I have bladder surgery? Apparently you can get your bladder put into a bladder hammock of some sort that holds it up so that it won’t let pee explode out of you for no reason.

So when I get older the plan is for this guy to hit the road and my bladder to hang in this hammock and relax...

So when I get older the plan is for this guy to hit the road and my bladder to hang in this hammock and relax…

I sometimes think about how sad my social life will be as my bladder control gets worse and worse.

Will I someday be house-bound?

Well – apparently not.

Depends has a new ad campaign which is making me feel much better about my situation.


Yes – that’s correct – the tagline reads “drop your pants for Underwareness”

Well if all of these twenty-five year olds can walk around wearing jean jackets and gigantic diapers – then I guess I can too.

Problem solved.

#6 – Fancy Lunches –

I dread pulling out those Pottery Barn kids lunchbags and making my children lunch for the next 10 months.  I would be one thing if I could shove Capri Suns, poptarts and nutella and fluff in there, but NOOOOO…..We are expected to provide the children with “healthy snacks” “healthy beverages” and “healthy lunches.”

This is an example from the latest Pottery Barn kids catalogue of the type of lunch that modern day parents are expected to provide.

So let me get this made your kid's sandwich into a cat? And the cat's eyeballs are almonds carefully placed on a the bread?

So let me get this straight…I am to make my kid’s sandwich into a cat? And the cat’s eyeballs are almonds carefully placed on a the bread? Who’s idea was this and can he or she please seek help.


Is this sandwich now supposed to be a boat? If I ever opened my lunch in grade school to find a boat sandwich with a gingham flag on it – I would burst into tears, throw the whole thing in the garbage and go to the guidance counselor. Do kids today have no pride???

And in the latest craze of parents that are very troubled and need to find better uses of their time, people are creating fancy pictures on the childrens’ sandwich bags.

So it’s not enough to simply make the lunch into the shape of animals, now you have to decorate the wrappers.


I’m sorry – am I the only person that doesn’t have two hours in the morning to create a full bread-shaped maze?

Why do children need decorated ziplocs?  And if you are that skilled at creating a maze couldn’t you go to work for like the Associated Press creating jumbles and mazes for people?  You could work for a farm creating a corn maze….

Surely your talents could be better spent elsewhere….

And thirdly – is your goal for the kids to be antisocial? Shouldn’t they speak to their friends in the cafeteria while they eat lunch?

Instead – they will just spend their twenty minute lunch period trying to solve your dickwad maze?

You’re an asshole.


In closing – I am going to work very hard to not worry about any of this…

If you hear me complaining about playdates, homework, sandwich art, organic foods or peeing in my pants this year – slap me.




The Sunday of Summer

The end of summer is coming.

I can smell it in the air.  As my favorite season threatens to come to a close, I find myself waking earlier than I should each morning in a panic.  I have begun to think about the start of school and I have started to worry about things that I haven’t worried about since June.


I have one more week of freedom so I am going to FORCE myself to continue to enjoy the summer and to ignore those worries that are starting to creep into my subconscious.  I will ignore the mental list I have begun to make regarding school supplies, after school activities and birthday parties that I need to RSVP for.

In order to preserve my mental health I am going to continue to enjoy all of the stuff that I have been loving and obsessing over this summer which include but are not limited to the following:

#1 The Ice Bucket Challenge: - This is just sheer genius.  The National ALS Foundation stated that it has raised ten million dollars in the past two weeks!!!  It’s fun and it’s for a good cause.

Also, as a side note those people whose pictures you stalk on Facebook have now come to life.  Now you can watch and hear someone who you haven’t seen in twenty-five years.  You can listen to their voice and watch them interact with their kids and most of all you can watch them get drenched with ice water.  What is not to love about this?

#2 – Paddle Board – I desperately wanted to get a paddleboard for myself so I could pretend I was Cameron Diaz for the kids.  My father surprised us for Christmas with one and it is the best beach activity ever.  It provides endless fun for the children and even though in my mind I look like a svelte celebrity straight out of the pages of US Weekly, in fact I look like this – most of the time:


I don’t really care.  I love it.

#3 – Summer reading: Is there anything better than getting off of your paddle board and plopping down into your beach chair and reading books about people in beach houses and summer homes filled with scandal??  No there’s not.

These two books brought me great joy this summer:


pool liars


#4 – Game of Crowns:    After a long day of ignoring my children, pretending I am a celebrity paddle boarding in Maui, and reading about imaginary people in their summer homes, I just really need something relaxing at night.  This is why I have been thoroughly enjoying the new show on Bravo, Game of Crowns.

This show features married women who compete in pageants.  One of the stars of the show is the former Mrs. Connecticut and Mrs. America.

I like to watch this show and imagine what I would do if I was Mrs. America or Mrs. Connecticut.

The real Mrs. America is very sweet and down-to-earth and is a mother to four children.

She doesn't let the sash or crown go to her head...But I am not so sure I would be able to stay grounded.

She doesn’t let the sash or crown go to her head…But I am not so sure I would be able to stay grounded.  I would totally wear this outfit to the PTO Meeting at my kids’ school.

I wouldn’t love doing those pageants.

I wouldn’t love not eating anything so I could fit into my swimsuit.

I wouldn’t love being friends with other lunatic pageant women.

What I would love is just announcing to people that I was Mrs. America.

If Mr. Gaga asked me if I washed his underwear, I could just say “No – sorry – I am Mrs. America and Mrs. America doesn’t do laundry.”

Moms who call for playdates would be told that “Because I am Mrs. America I really don’t have time for playdates.”

Birthday party invites could go directly in the garbage…”Sorry – since I am Mrs. America I have very important work to do on Saturdays and Sundays for America and my kids will be with me…”

Even when my own kids asked me for shit I could say “Do you know who I am?? I am MRS. AMERICA!” Go outside and don’t come back until dinner time.”

Those baseball games that I don’t watch.  Nobody could accuse me of being a bad mother because I would simply explain to them that as MRS. AMERICA I had very important America stuff to do that required me to miss the games completely.

Oh it would be glorious.

#5 – Baked Potato Salad and Grilled Cheese:

When I’m not reading, fantasizing about pageants, or floating out to sea on the paddleboard, I am generally drinking alcoholic beverages or eating food.  This summer we have made lots of delicious foods but a couple of dishes have stood out.

This potato salad is made with baked potatoes, chives, sour cream, cheddar cheese and bacon.

I mean I don’t know what else I can say about it except that it is basically heaven on a fork (and I don’t even like potatoes.)


And then there’s this tomato, basil and mozzarella grilled cheese that I have made like three times this summer….I mean I just can’t get enough.


And then there’s the s’mores brownies….


These recipes can otherwise be known as “Reasons why I am NOT Mrs. America” – but I am going to continue this life of bliss and peace for one more week……





Beach Rules

This week I am taking a staycation which will include lots of wine and lots of beach time.

Just as a precaution I am reposting the BEACH RULES that I devised last summer.

They are very important and everyone should know them.

People’s behaviors never cease to amaze me. On the beach, and in beach communities there are certain unspoken rules.

I thought I should review a few:

1 – Jellyfish are assholes:

They are a menace to society.  They ruin perfectly good swimming time.

They sting small children and send them screaming to their mothers.

Apparently everyone didn’t get the “jellyfish are motherfuckers” memo.

The other day the kids scooped a jellyfish out of the water, dug a hole and were about to dump it in and cover it with sand.  A woman stopped them and said “Why would you a murder an animal for no reason?”

After I got done rolling on the ground laughing, I took a huge scoop of dirt and threw it on the jellyfish.  Have all humans lost their minds?

I’m sorry did I miss something here? Aren’t jellyfish just lazy blobs of shit that float around waiting for one of their asshole tentacles to brush against someone and ruin his or her day?

Jellyfish are assholes, and so are you if you are trying to save them.

See, now this guy and I would not get along.  I think there is something wrong with a person that enjoys jellyfish.  If I could name this picture I would name this picture "Two Assholes."

See, now this guy and I would not get along. I think there is something wrong with a person that enjoys jellyfish. If I could name this picture I would call it “Two Assholes.”

2 – Urine belongs in the ocean:

I was watching my 3-year-old niece on the beach the other day and she announced just as I was settling into my beach chair that she needed to go back to the house to use the potty.

“No, no when you are with Auntie, the ocean is your potty,” I explained.

“No.” she said staring at me blankly. After much talking and going back and forth to the water, Mr. Gaga got her to do it. Thank God.

Unless there is diarrhea threatening I am not leaving the beach.

3 – Groom:

I have mentioned my moustache before, so I know what it’s like to keep up with a never-ending growth of hair in unwanted areas.  It is simply imperative that one waxes or trims areas where hair is growing in an out-of-control way that could make a person appear like a bear or gorilla on the beach.

Sam accidentally bumped into this guy and when he came out of the water I had to roll a huge lint roller to get all of the pubes off his bathing suit....

Sam accidentally bumped into this guy and when he came out of the water I had to roll a huge lint roller over him to get all of the pubes off his bathing suit….

Even if you are fine with wearing a pube sweater to the beach, you should consider how you might affect others.

4 – Sandcastles are valuable real estate owned by others:

This is pretty serious business.  When your child works diligently for an hour creating a sand masterpiece and some toddler comes over and eats it or sits on it, that’s considered very rude.

You need to watch your kids and teach them at an early age that they are not allowed to touch other people’s sand structures…It’s basic beach etiquette.

5 – Sand toys are for sharing:

Please don’t come stare me down while I am trying to read US Weekly and ask me if my kids are using your shovel. Um, yeah probably…and who fucking cares?

They probably took it because we have the same shovel as you, and so do the other 500 people on this beach.

Just so you know these are 45 for $1 at any store...please stop talking about where your shovel is....

Just so you know these are 15 for $1 at any store…please stop talking about where your shovel is….

If you care this much about your shovel, please don’t sit near me. We will definitely take it and could very possibly break it or send it out to sea.  I don’t need this kind of pressure.

6 – Watch your kids, no matter their age:

Believe me I get the whole thing about ignoring your kids once they can swim, it’s like my favorite thing to do.  However, when your kids are a little older you have to start watching them a little more.

Although you don’t have to worry that they will drown, you do have to worry that they are huge douche-bags.

The other day, my boys were playing with their blow up jet ski raft and their boogie boards with a friend.  Shortly, 2 ten-year-olds came and hijacked the float, tossing the boys into the water and hopping on.  The kids struggled to pull the older kids off.  I was watching this from my beach chair, when suddenly one of the older kids smashed Sam in the face with the boogie board.

These were the kids, happy and content before they were bullied on the seas....

These were the kids, happy and content before they were bullied on the high seas….

I ran into the water, “Are you insane?” I yelled at the devil child as I ripped the boogie board from his hand.

“Why would you hit a 5 year-old in the face? What’s wrong with you?” I hissed.

“He was tackling me…” he said meekly. “He was tackling you because you took his stuff.” I said between gritted teeth.

“What’s going on here?” I heard then.

I looked up and realized that the devil child’s mother was in the water like a foot away and had allowed this whole thing to go down.

“The problem is that your son smashed my son in the face with a boogie board.” I said.

“Oh.” she responded.

I stormed away.

“Oh?”  That’s what you say when your child is complete dick?

How about “Sorry about that, my kid is a total asshole and I am going to speak to him about it.” or how about “I am sorry that I stood just inches away and watched my son smash your son’s face in, I am on some heavy-duty tranquilizers and I cannot respond appropriately.” Either of those would do.

7 – Don’t bring the Ferrari :

Basically the kids deposit large amounts of sand and seaweed and wet shit in and on every inch of my car for the two months when we spend time at the beach.

They lean up on the outside of the car creating areas where their SPF 50 smears onto the paint never to be removed again.  Salt and dust eat away at the undercarriage and rots the paint.

When the cars aren’t at the beach parking lot, they are parked in tiny driveways of beach houses that are basically on the street. Imagine my surprise when a day after the douchebag jet ski pirate hit Sam, his (biggest nerd in America) father marched up our driveway.

I braced myself for what this idiot was going to say.

He said that “someone” saw my kids playing in the street and their wagon hit his minivan and left a mark.

He was clearly trying to get me back for calling his kid out on his bad behavior. I was speechless. What should we do about this nerd boy? I apologized like a civilized human but on the inside I was ready to explode.

As he showed me the miniscule mark on his Windstar, I contemplated just kicking him in the balls and walking away, but I thought the kids might get upset....

As he showed me the miniscule mark on his Windstar, I contemplated just kicking him in the balls and walking away, but I thought the kids might get upset….

If you care this much about your Lamborghini  mini-van perhaps the beach isn’t a great place for it, you fucking loser, and please never speak to me again unless someone is on fire.

8 – Umbrella Etiquette:

I can’t figure out if it’s global warming or my skin is just old and literally weathered, but I cannot just sit out and bake like I used to.

I recently have sat under an umbrella for the first time in my decades of beach bathing. As a result, apparently I don’t know how to install a beach umbrella.

I just kind of stuck it in the sand while preparing for my BF to come meet me the other day.

Right when she arrived the umbrella flew with a gust of wind and impaled 50 people.  Thankfully, she is an expert at getting people to do things for her, and happens to have strong resemblance to Kim Kardashian.

She retrieved the umbrella from two men that were sitting with their kids.  They handed her the umbrella, and she took it gingerly and just stared blankly at them.

“What should I do now?” she asked.  “I don’t know how to do this…”

In two seconds flat, both men were digging a huge hole and expertly securing the umbrella. Unfortunately this can’t happen everyday.  It’s imperative to know how to work the umbrella as to not murder innocent victims.

9 – Use an umbrella not a small shelter :

So if you want shade, then the umbrella is the obvious choice.  If you decide to install a nylon shelter that can house 35 people, then maybe the beach is not for you.

Now my view is blocked completely and I can’t even see my kids if they are drowning because you have decided to put up an event tent at the beach for you and the two other people in your family.

Ok so basically the rule is, if you can host a small graduation party under the tent, it's too big for the beach....

Ok so basically the rule is, if you can host a small graduation party under the tent, it’s too big for the beach….

10 – If you see Lady Goo Goo Gaga on the beach, keep it moving:

In closing, I just want to relax.  The winters are long here in Connecticut.

I have very few precious days that I can spend luxuriously on the beach.

Don’t torture my kids, don’t tell my kids not to kill animals, don’t ask me about sand toys or tell me you have to pee.

Let’s keep all this talking to a minimum. I am TRYING to get through one issue of US WEEKLY!! HAPPY SUMMER !  PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA 150-tmb

The best playdate ever….

Mr. Gaga is a birthday party lover.

He feels that our children should attend every party that they are invited to for fear that the birthday child in question will not have a nice birthday due to low party attendance.

Therefore, as I have mentioned before, while I repeatedly attempt to destroy birthday party invitations by lighting them on fire or flushing them down the toilet – he will always catch me and insist that we RSVP “Yes” to every party.

Sometimes if I am feeling charitable I stick the invites in my old wine bottles and send them out to sea so some other poor soul can enjoy them...

Sometimes if I am feeling charitable I stick the invites in my old wine bottles and send them out to sea so some other poor soul can enjoy them…

When Sam received an invite for the day after the last day of school I just didn’t think that we could commit to that.   The child was not really a good friend of Sam’s so I didn’t feel obligated.  We didn’t know the parents so I had no problem throwing the invite in the garbage. The day after the last day of school we are usually running around going to social engagements or going to the beach for the weekend, anyways.

Mr. Gaga wouldn’t hear of it.   I had to work during the day, and I asked Mr. Gaga if he really was going to feel like bringing Sam to a party on a Friday evening at 5 PM.  He confirmed that he would definitely be available for that.

That day I came home around 7 PM.   Just the time that the party was set to be over.

Mr. Gaga, Michael and Sam were lounging around watching television and the gift was sitting in front of the door where I had left it in the morning.

“Um, what happened with the party?”  I asked.

They all looked at me with a shocked look.  Mr. Gaga jumped up in despair.

“Oh my God! I totally forgot! We were relaxing and we totally forgot!” he said hysterically.

Because I am tortured by Mr. Gaga I had visions of the child alone surrounded by balloons and cake with no friends at his party.  What if nobody could attend and he was counting on Sam to be there? Sam is beloved by the children in his class and many mothers have exclaimed to me that Sam is their child’s “best friend!” when we don’t even know who they are.

What if this was one of those kids that loves Sam and wanted him to be there?

We were horrible people!!

We destroyed his birthday!

We possibly destroyed his life!!


I launched into action and ran into the basement to explore my shelf filled with toys and gifts that we never opened.  I keep this shelf readily available for this type of occasion when an emergency gift is needed.

I cleared off the shelf and frantically started wrapping gifts.

I ran upstairs with all of the gifts and grabbed the original gift and urged Sam to get his shoes on.  I googled the boy’s name and address.

“Come on, we will bring his gift to his house and apologize.” I told Sam.

We loaded the gifts into the car and peeled out of the driveway.

When we pulled up to the address it looked as though nobody was home.

“Oh good – we will just leave a note with the gifts,” I told Sam as we got out of the car and he rang the doorbell.

Lo and behold the family was home.

“No worries!” the mother exclaimed when I apologized profusely as I shoved gifts into her foyer.

“No – we are so sorry! We feel horrible!!” I said emphatically as I placed the gifts at the little boys feet.

“Don’t be silly!” she said nicely as she looked at the pile of gifts, “and we don’t need all of these gifts.”

Gift boxes-110


“Oh no – these were his gifts anyways.” I said casually.

“No really – we can’t take all of these gifts.” she pleaded.

“No – don’t be crazy!  These were totally his gifts!!” I said as I turned to leave.

And just when I was just about in the clear…

“So maybe we can do a playdate this summer!” she called after me.

Normally I find myself maneuvering ways out of these torture hours playdates – but this time I had an excuse.

“Oh sorry – we will be at the Connecticut shore for the summer,” I said softly pretending to be disappointed.

“So will we!” she exclaimed.  “We will be there for two weeks! We can get together down there!”

Oh Lord – why is that when I do a good deed of showering a small child with millions of presents am I punished????

“Ok – definitely contact me when you are there!” I said cheerfully, ushering Sam out the door.

I thought nothing of it – because clearly what kind of sadomasochistic maniac would really remember on their family vacation to schedule a playdate with a perfect stranger who forgot your child’s birthday?

Then I received an email with the subject line “BEACH PLAYDATE.”

She was asking if we could schedule a playdate on the beach.  I quickly shot that down because I don’t like a playdate on the grass or on the floors of my home – so I sure as hell don’t like one on the fucking sandy beach where I can be relaxing and enjoying life.

“How about we meet at the carousel and ice cream shop tomorrow night?” I wrote back kindly.

I had plans to go to an early dinner with some family and I could head to the carousel for ice cream after that.  She agreed to the plan.

The next day was a perfect ten.

I was supposed to leave for dinner at 5 and I was regretting my decision.  I wanted to stay on the beach until the last possible minute.  Thankfully we were just going to a lobster roll shack, so at 4:40 I headed home to grab my wallet and threw a sundress on over my bathing suit.

After dinner I rushed back home.  I got home at 6:40 and was supposed to meet these people at the carousel at 7.  I quickly showered, got dressed and pulled into the carousel at 6:58!

I was very proud of myself.  I had gotten ready very quickly and also I was a very good person for agreeing to this.  I knew that this little boy would be happy to see Sam and the mother would forgive me for missing her child’s birthday so it was all worth it.  My good works and efforts would make everybody happy.

I was the best mother and person in the land.

We stood in front of the carousel watching the horses go around, waiting for the family.

After a few minutes the kids started to whine.  “Where are they Mom?” Sam asked excitedly.

“I’m sure they will be here in a minute,” I answered distractedly looking at the street watching cars pull in.

After a few more minutes I asked the kids if they wanted to get ice cream while we waited.  They said they wanted to wait for Sam’s friend.

I glanced up at the clock outside the ice cream shop.



I stared at it and said to the kids, “Maybe they forgot….” and as the words came out of my mouth I realized those were the very words that this mother must have told her son when Sam didn’t show up for his party.

I looked at the kids slack-jawed. “Oh…….God.”

“What mom? Do you think they’re coming?” Sam asked excitedly.

“Nope, they definitely are NOT coming, Sam.” I answered definitively.

And I was right.  They never showed up.

I let the kids get their ice cream and go on the carousel a few times and then we headed home.

I checked my email and what do you know – I had a cheerful email saying that “We totally forgot! Hope we can reschedule!”

Oh we will reschedule all right.

We have set up a new date for next week, but two can play at this game.

I may or may not show up.

Now this could be my new favorite type of playdate…..the one that never happens!










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