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BAD MOTHER


Time to get back into the swing of things.

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

I mean how much school can someone take in August?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh shit....

Oh shit….

I stumbled over to the microwave…

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

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

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

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

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

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

When we finally went to bed it was around 2.

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

 

drunk-girl

I could barely speak or function.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Labor Day!

Don’t judge me…..

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

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Dolls gone Wild


Mothers today seem to want to do everything for their children. If you asked my parents they would even include me in that statement.

During the summer months, we are at the beach and I try to take a step back from helicopter parenting. They ride their bikes to camp alone, they run up and down the beach exploring and swimming for hours, and when the day is over they hop into the outside shower together and clean themselves.

Sometimes while they shower I pour myself a glass of wine and forget where they are altogether.

A friend from home came to visit and was horrified at shower time. “Well, how do you know if they are clean?” she asked.

I shrugged, “Well….I guess I don’t.”

What age are you supposed to hand over the washcloth and hope for the best? I mean how old is a boy supposed to be when is mother stops scrubbing his asshole and his testicles?

The tasks that modern mothers have trouble relinquishing control of don’t end with butt and penis washing.

I know many 5 and 6 year-olds that don’t know how to zip their coat, tie their shoes, or wipe their butt when they poop.

In the defense of mothers, it is much easier and quicker to just zip a jacket than wasting precious time teaching a child how to do something.

When Michael was going to first grade I realized that his foot was way too large to keep putting into a velcro sneaker.

I thought this was not a cute look for kindergarten....

I thought this was not a cute look for first grade…

I found the perfect solution and signed him up for the shoe-tying class at Nordstrom.

Mr. Gaga put his well-tied shoe down firmly.

“Cancel it, that’s ridiculous.” he said.
“But I was on the wait list for 4 months to get him in!” I pleaded.
He stared at me. “You could have taught him by now.” he said heartlessly.
He had a point.

When does all of this hand-holding, butt-wiping, jacket zipping enabling come to an end?

NEVER!

Once it starts – it is hard to stop. I know of two mothers who actually inserted their daughter’s tampons for them, because “they didn’t want to do it themselves.”

Well I didn’t want to do it either so guess what happened to me? I wore a big honking maxi pad for 2 years until I was ready to try to insert a tampon myself.

Mothers today are all too quick to solve problems and gloss over everything to make sure that even if everything isn’t perfect it will at least appear as though it is.

Hide that doll's hair and face...she's embarrassing me....

Hide that doll’s hair and face…she’s embarrassing me….

This urge to solve problems for America’s children has reached an all new low.

A troubling post keeps appearing on Pinterest that instructs users how to make dolls look better.

When I was young I had Barbies and dolls that occasionally got a bad haircut, my kids have a superhero who occasionally rip their cape or lose a limb or even get run over by a huge truck.

That’s life.

But no!!

We don’t let children today experience what it feels like to have a doll that looks like a crystal meth addict.

It’s highly unpleasant to have a doll with snarled hair – but no worries, like everything else – we can FIX it!!

Millions of people have pinned this post which carefully outlines how to make your child’s doll look better.

dolls

If you have time to kill and find it a top priority to make sure your kid’s doll doesn’t look like Lindsay Lohan than here is the secret recipe!

I am sorry but am I the only one who has better things to do with their time than spend the day making a doll not look like a whore?

I have a hard time keeping up with my own beauty routines.  I often find that I am falling behind on my waxing, haircuts and color, manicures, etc.  So while I walk around with a full moustache and chipped toenails, is someone suggesting that I spend my day delousing a doll and making sure that she looks well-coiffed?

Has everyone in this country lost their god-damn minds?

There are plenty of mothers out there (you know who you are) that walk around town wearing yoga pants, no makeup, and gray hair.  Perhaps you could take some time for yourselves to actually go exercise in your yoga pants or take a hair appointment.  Certainly ANY activity would be time better spent than worrying yourself about how embarrassed you will be the next time your daughter has a friend over and she sees that her American Girl doll looks like Amy Winehouse.

I know you will all say it is because I have boys that I don’t understand the importance of this task…but you are wrong.

I am a girl.

It is laughable to imagine me or my friends growing up in the 80′s, bringing some jacked up doll to our mothers and asking them to comb their hair with fabric softener so that they won’t look like whores.

I asked my mother to do my Barbie's hair and when I came home she looked like this....

Once I asked my mother to do my Barbie’s hair while I was at school and when I got home she looked like this….

Why don’t we use these “whore dolls” to teach important lessons to today’s little girls.

You can sit your daughters down with the trampy doll and say “Look, there’s nothing we can do. Look at your doll sitting there spread eagle, smoking a cigarette with her eyes glazed over, her snarled hair and her ripped outfit all askew.  She has made a series of bad decisions and now she has to face the consequences…..”

Why don’t we use these unfortunate tramps to teach young girls to make good choices and not to go down the wrong path?

smkdollcc_1

There she is in the street…where she belongs!

Mothers – come together and find something to do, or at least think of me the next time you feel the urge to spend your day combing doll hair.

Just like humans, dolls sometimes hit a rough patch.  Sometimes it’s not all castles and prince charmings….

It’s an important lesson and one that is never too early to teach.

DON’T BLAME ME BECAUSE I AM BEING MEAN TO THE DOLLS!!  PLEASE FOLLOW ME ON PINTEREST AND PIN THESE WHORE DOLLS!!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

Beach Rules 2013 Edition


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

Kiss me…you’re Irish


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

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

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

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

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

There’s no hangover…no throwing up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Somehow this face makes people feel better after they interact with

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

this...

this face…

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

I finished my dinner tonight right around the time my mother had just finished "salt and peppering" hers...Who wants to eat this much pepper????

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I plead…to no avail.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s absolutely nothing better than laughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

carrie

 

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

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

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

This is Sam playing on the beach…..

 

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

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

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

HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY!!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME FOR FUNNIEST MOM BLOGGER!

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What I Learned 2012


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who knew?

breakfast bubble

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy New Year!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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What I learned….


In February of 2011 I began this little anonymous blog, as a way to vent and tell stories of my experience as a mother.

I have so loved having you all read, comment, laugh and commiserate. I look forward to much more blogging in 2012 and thank you all for your support!!

2011 was a good year for me.  I finally started to feel like I could think about doing something for myself – something besides wiping a butt or emptying a dishwasher.  (Like start a blog!!)

If I had to pick one word for 2011 it would be “blog,”  because in the beginning of the year I didn’t even really know what a blog was, and now I have my mom blog and I also have a beauty blog, and blogging has become a huge part of my life!

If I had to pick one word for 2012 it will be “Tweet.”  From what I understand this is something I am supposed to be doing already, but as usual I am behind the eight-ball with technology - so I am going to figure it out and become a tweet-aholic.

Today I want to just review the year for those of you who might have missed some important stories….with the
TOP TEN THINGS I LEARNED THIS YEAR…..(and one for good luck)

#1 – In February I started this blog and learned about other cultures at a Chinese child’s birthday party. This is where I was told to take off my shoes and wear the mother’s filthy slippers throughout the party.

#2 – In March, I came to the realization that my neighbor “Fran Drescher” is an utterly repulsive idiot.  I am so thankful that she moved across the country so I no longer have to be subjected to her filth or her children’s theater productions.

#3 – In April, I was an idiot and drove 19 hours in the car to Georgia, I learned that this is not necessarily a good idea.  As if it’s not bad enough being stuck in a vehicle for long periods of time,  I definitely learned that when one gets out of the car for short breaks, the Cracker Barrel is not the place to go.

#4 – In May, in honor of Mother’s Day I reviewed the ways “This is not my mother’s motherhood.”  Most of this list revolves around the fact that modern-day motherhood is wretched and torturous and my mother enjoyed leisure time watching the Days of Our Lives program and smoking cigarettes.

#5 – In June, school ended so I no longer had to look at or listen to Steven Keaton at the bus stop, and I figured out a way for my son to get the final revenge of the school year.  This school – year I learned that I must wear sunglasses rain or shine to avoid eye contact with any and all humans at said bus stop.

Imagine waking up every morning and having to watch this guy pretend he's going to take the bus to kindergarten.

#6 – In July, I learned that Bingo is very annoying, I will never win and it is not good for my mental health. If I continue to attend the yearly beach bingo I could possibly flip tables like Theresa Guidice.

Teresa Guidice flipping a table

#7 – In August, I learned that too much sun coupled with late nights spent watching Spongebob while his mother drinks wine, can actually turn a 5-year-old into the devil.  I got a lot of comments on this one – I think you all could relate to this story – especially when everyone on the beach clapped when we left….

#8 – In September, I was provoked by a moron in my “Moms Club” who decided to tell her 2-year-old there’s no such thing as Santa.  I learned that there is a level of horrible parenting that I was not aware of – Oooohh how I hate that woman and her husband.  In 2012 – stay tuned for more idiotic requests and questions from people who apparently can’t solve simple matters without sending out a mass email to 800 mothers.

#9 – In October, I escaped from Hell on Earth Connecticut and I learned it is not necessarily all it’s cracked up to be.  Although we had a great trip – it did take us until about Halloween to recover from the trip – and that was about the time that we had a storm that destroyed Connecticut life as we knew it.

#10 – In November, my hair turned into a Brillo pad and I learned how to survive without power for 10 days!!!!!  It took us until last week to recover from this fucking piece of shit storm and the piece of shit utilities company that we have here in lovely Connecticut.

This is me waiting for my husband to hook up the generator.....

#11  – In December, I learned that some people in this household do not value Christmas traditions and schedules as much as I do…..and Mr. Gaga asked that I also say I learned that he is funnier than me……(which of course is not true.)

What's the big deal? Why are you crying? Are you crying about coming home to raw chicken on the counter and a messy house or is it because I am an idiot?

Happy New Year!! Please start off the new year in a positive direction and vote for me was one of the Top Mommy Blogs!! XOXOXO LADY GOO GOO GAGA

Linking to pour your heart out!!

Top ten reasons why going “back to school” sucks


This week has really sucked.  I mentioned last week how I have been enjoying myself and I was forced into reality this week.  My last week of summer and the kids and myself were sick all week and then we had a hurricane.

Can you say quick spiral into depression?

I am so not into back to school mode – and not to be “Debbie Downer”- but the following is my top ten reasons why going back to school sucks:

1 – No Sleep: Lord help me – I have to wake up. My kids don’t sleep late – so I have been spending the whole summer letting them stay up watching inappropriate television, playing outside, going to the movies on the beach, in an effort to have them wake up late.  It worked perfectly.  We are now on a great schedule where we wake up between 8 and 8:30 and squeal into 9:00 camp on two wheels, the kids in ratty t-shirts and shorts, a pop-tart in one hand and a towel in the other.  When school starts the kids need a healthy breakfast, a packed snack and healthy lunch, matching clothing, brushed teeth and clean faces.  Michael’s bus comes at 8:05 am.  I’m screwed.

During the school year – I try to make something fun and healthy for breakfast like this!
During the summer – late nights coupled with lots of wine drinking often resulted in the kids eating a
breakfast on the go – usually whatever I could grab and hand to them…..See below:
 
 
 
 

 

2 -Rag Rotation: Just when I had gotten completely used to my summer “rags” -http://lgoogoogaga.wordpress.com/2011/05/02/riches-to-
rags/
I am going to soon have to face another season of not having all of the appropriate clothing items I need to be trendy and fabulous.  These items would include anything that hides my muffin top and is not from the Old Navy. 

3 - Sickness: Like the little weather game – a bunch of illnesses were thrown our way this week to remind us not to get too comfortable with all the fresh air and good health.  Soon my children will be surrounded by bird flu and head lice and filthy snot-nosed children that don’t comb their hair.  http://lgoogoogaga.wordpress.com/2011/06/12/tangled/

This week we were all sick and it is the first of probably 30 illnesses before next spring.

4 – Hurricanes and Nor’easters and Earthquakes: Apparently – in an effort to throw me right back into the reality that is the school year – the universe threw a whole bunch of weather our way this week.  This way I could feel the effects of staying in the house
for long periods of time, cooking, cleaning and playing UNO.

The winter is soooo long and soooo torturous.  On top of the obvious unpleasantness of being stuck in the house with children – I notice all of the chores I have neglected and am forced to clean and organize and cook.   I have mentioned before I lounge around during the summer, see below:

This isn't me - but we are thinking the same thing - I don't know where my kids are - and I don't care.

This isn't me - but we are thinking the same thing - I don't know where my kids are - and I don't care.

And while I am doing this -this is what my sink looks like:

This is what my sink looks like while I am at the beach- but guess what ...you cannot be happy or achieve a beautiful bronze skin tone by sitting around scrubbing pots and pans.....

You can’t notice the dishwasher needs to be emptied if you are reading US Weekly on the beach!

5 - A return to the bus stop: The last time we were there was after Michael punched some asshole in the face on the last day of school. 

Oh how I hate these people, and oh how I hate that they are the very first faces I see besides my own and my kids each day….Please read about my bus stop adventures if you missed it the first go-round – http://lgoogoogaga.wordpress.com/2011/06/26/the-fiery-gates-of-our-bus-stop/ You will not be disappointed.

6- Playdates: When does this actually end? My phone was blowing up this week from Moms that had children “just dying to see Michael!” or who’s son is “devastated that Sam isn’t in his class!!” – so “we have to do a playdate!” 

Really? 

It’s called they will see you on the first day of school – and by the way – Sam isn’t in his class because your kid is a monster and I requested that they be separated.  Just sayin….

7 – Birthday Parties: I am not kidding that we already got two birthday invitations this week.  Thank Jesus – one was for today and was postponed due to the hurricane.  Otherwise – we spend at least one day of every weekend participating in some birthday festivities for
children we barely know. (you know because you have to invite all 22 children from your class to your birthday) 

The last one we went to during this summer was quite the fiasco…http://lgoogoogaga.wordpress.com/2011/08/07/last-friday-night/

8 – No Camp:  Have I mentioned that I love the “beach camp” that the kids go to that is from 9 – 12 (break for lunch) and then 1-2:30?  Um – that is the most free-time I have had since college. 

See - this is me with some of my "mommy friends" enjoying a pool party while our kids are atcamp.....I'm just not going to have time for these kind of things during the school year.....

Now we are back to dumb-ass preschool which goes from about 9:00 am to 9:20 am and then on Fridays they do a shortened session so pick up is at 9:14 am.  I can maybe go
home and take a shower and then I have to go back and pick up.  It’s a joke. 

9 – Room Mothers: Have you met these people? They are insane! They have endless amounts of energy and take interest in all things related to their child and his or her class.  They inadvertently make me feel bad with their endless email updates and requests for volunteers that are “much-needed” and “so- appreciated!” 

One time I volunteered to help with a “Kindergarten regatta.” When I got there my job was to turn on the hose to fill the pool for the boats.  Really? You really need a volunteer for this?? 

This is me waiting at the arts and crafts table for someone to get me the hose....this kid kept asking for help with his letters ...so annoying.

These room mothers are also the people who request that we each send in $20 for the holiday gift for the teacher.  I mentioned the class was 22 children right??

10 – My babies are old:  Despite all my bitching about nonsense – the truth of the matter is that this is my last year with my son in preschool and next year he will be in full-day kindergarten and I will be left home with my dishwasher and my US Weekly that I have been coveting so much.  I have a feeling when I can finally read the dang thing – it’s not going to be nearly as fun or entertaining as my kids…

Thank god I have you guys – My loyal fans!! 

Please click the banner below to vote for this blog!! Thank you!!!!

“pouring my heart out” with www.thingsicantsay.com

 

Mommy Tip #2 – Tantrums are not just for Toddlers


This has been a good summer.  Michael and Sam are very independent, they love camp, love swimming lessons, love the beach, and have lots of friends.  They don’t even like to sit with me on the beach and constantly ask to go hang out by the boardwalk – where they “play superheroes” and make friends. 

I haven’t had days like these at the beach since I was in my early twenties.  I’ve been reading books and magazines, talking uninterrupted with friends, and sitting on my fat (and growing as we speak) ass more than I have in 6 years.

On top of this luxury, now that I don’t have babies or toddlers to give naps or dinner to – I can essentially stay at the beach as long as I want.  I can pull my chair down to the edge of the water – so the waves are licking at my feet and enjoy my book in the late afternoon, the best part of the day. 

The sun burns a little less, the air is crisp, the water is gorgeous and the kids play in the waves while the sun starts its descent.  It was recently such an afternoon, on one of the most gorgeous days of the summer, when I got caught off guard.  I inadvertently was happy – and I should have known that was not possible.  

My 5-year-old dropped his hermit crab at the edge of the water and before he could bend down to scoop it up – a wave came in and swept it away, and he went ballistic.  This wasn’t a complete sneak attack – I should have seen the signs:

Clue #1 – Red Cheeks =Perhaps a little too much in the sun department

Clue #2 - A day of whining = Perhaps one too many late nights – and a little tired

Clue #3 - I mentioned that I was momentarily happy right?

He burst into tears.

I peered at him over the top of my book. 

“Michael this is nothing to cry about – go by the jetty and find a new one.” I said and went back to reading.

“No!!!” he screamed unreasonably, “I want that one!!!”

I tried to ignore him, but the whining and crying was getting worse. I read the same page 5 times.

“If you don’t stop crying and leave me alone right now – then we are leaving.” I threatened.

“NO!!! I’m not leaving!!” he screamed hysterically in my face.

Now at this point – any good mother with a head on her shoulders would pack up and leave, but not Lady Goo Goo Gaga.  I tried to read again. He wouldn’t shut up.

I gave one more ultimatum – which he failed miserably and I had no choice.  I threw my book down.

“That’s it….we’re leaving.” I started folding my chair. 

This is when things really took a frightening turn.  I told him to start picking up his toys, and quickly realized this would never happen.  The devil doesn’t pick up sand toys. 

Resigned I went to pick up buckets and towels and every step of the way I was body blocked by my possessed child.

I tried to remain calm.  I called out to poor innocent Sam who was floating on a tube catching some rays.

“Come on – we have to leave now!! Your brother is out of control!” I called out.

He graciously hopped off his tube and said “OK – Mama!”  I looked at him with joy and happiness for a quick moment and then turned back to Godzilla. 

A toy boat was thrown and narrowly missed my ear, he took his brother’s tube and slammed it down as hard as he could and it bounced off the sand and rolled away.

I frantically filled up my beach cart and was almost ready to go.   The only thing left on the beach was the huge bucket of crabs leftover from crabbing earlier in the day.  Considering this all started from a lost crab – emptying the bucket was going to be dicey. 

While he was momentarily distracted by two strangers, I was able to grab my flip-flops and book.

“Dump out the bucket, Michael, it’s time to go.” I said calmly.

“NO!” he screamed hovering over the bucket with snot and tears running down his sunburned cheeks.  I quickly made a move to grab the bucket – at the same time as he did.   I tried to loosen his grip to no avail, and a tug of war ensued.

Anytime I got into position to dump the bucket – he would get in front of it so that I would have to throw a bucket of crabs directly at him (which surprisingly – I wasn’t comfortable with.) 

I almost threw a bucket of crabs at him -but decided against it.

At this point – Sam hopped out of the water.

“Sam! Run for your life!!” I yelled while pulling furiously on the bucket, “I’ll meet you at the boardwalk!”

He scampered away – and I ripped the bucket out of Michael’s hands and dumped out mud and crabs like a maniac. 

At one point he headed towards the water and mass chaos ensued....

I was dripping with sweat and my back and arms were killing me from the struggle.  Michael collapsed in a heap of tears and I threw the bucket in my cart and turned around to go…..at which point I thought I heard cheering. 

Yes. 

Witnesses to this debacle were cheering for me.  I looked up and saw a sea of horrified faces. 

The beach was silent.

 A seagull flew by. 

The crabs made their way back to sea. 

I stood there sandy and sweaty, staring back at all of the faces judging me.

I was mortified.  I headed up to the boardwalk.  Some kind woman called out – “Don’t worry – we have all been there!!”

Someone else shouted – “You have a lot of patience!!”

I was dying  and on the verge of tears myself.  Michael followed me all the way to the car crying and threatening not to come and of course it didn’t end until long after we were home. 

Thank God I had just read a blog called Things I Can’t Say, in which the mom blogger, Shell, suggested getting Mike’s Hard Strawberry Lemonade, and I had some chilled waiting for me.  The promise of malt liquor was the only thing pushing me through the motions of showers, dinner and bedtime routines.

I think I have neglected the schedules and good parenting for long enough – and it’s biting me in the ass.  This little brush with the devil was enough for me.

PLEASE CLICK ON THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME!!! THANK YOU!

xoxox LADY GOO GOO GAGA

Linking to Sunday Funday with Carri Ann and Pour You Heart Out

ALSO LINKING THIS AWKWARD MOMENT TO MAMA KAT

Beach Mode


We are on vacation – which means that LADY GOO GOO GAGA is no longer interested in parenting or caring for her children.  Her top priorities are eating food, drinking wine, and reading US Weekly on the beach.

As a result, my children now eat a steady rotation of CARS 2 cereal, Fluffernutters, and hot dogs.  (Add in an ice cream from the ice cream man and that about rounds out the daily meal.)  As I have mentioned before, I am Italian and I take food very seriously – so this meal plan is a clear indication of how “checked out” I actually am.

The other day on the beach I was attempting to read my book, The Hunger Games Trilogy, and ignoring my children.  I was rudely interrupted  by mothers screaming from the boardwalk that my children were spitting water at each other – and apparently getting their saliva on others in the process.  I had to put my book down and get up and walk to the boardwalk.  On my way, a mother – (from what do you know – my hometown!!! They follow me everywhere) says…

“Your children are spitting at each other…and getting water on everyone.”

You know what? It’s the effing beach….so I don’t care if someone got a little spit on them – we just swam in the Long Island Sound all day.  Do you really think a little water and saliva from a 4-year-old is going to make or break the germ situation?  Why did I just have to put down my beach book to deal with this bullshit? I AM ON VACATION.

This isn't me - but we are thinking the same thing - "I don't know where my kids are - and I don't care."

This isn’t me, it is Britney Spears – but we are thinking the same thing – “I don’t know where my kids are – and I don’t care.”

All parenting is on hiatus.  Oh – what’s that?  One more episode of Spongebob Squarepants?? Sure. Sounds awesome.  Let me just have another glass of wine.

Oh, what did you say?  Your brother just catapulted you out of the hammock and you hit your head on the metal pole? Oh – that’s sad for you – here’s an ice cream sandwich.

What? I can’t hear you over the sound from the blender making Miami Vices!  You want to go climb on the rocks by the beach and pee on them instead of going to the bathroom?   Sounds great!!!

Poor kids – hopefully the slight relief of helicopter parenting will benefit them – maybe one day they will say – “Remember when we were little and we would go on vacation to the beach – and Mommy never watched us or talked to us and let us do whatever we wanted? Good times…”

JUST BECAUSE I FEED MY KIDS CARS 2 CEREAL DOESN”T MEAN I AM A BAD PERSON!!!  PLEASE CLICK ON THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR LADY GOO GOO GAGA!!! ONE CLICK COUNTS AS A VOTE!!!  THANK YOU!!!!

LINKING TO SHELL AT “POUR YOUR HEART OUT” and MAMA KAT’S LOSIN IT

Off the Deep End


We spend a lot of time at the beach in the summer.  Up until last year I never sat down once when I was there.  I would lug chairs, towels, lotions, toys, swim diapers, etc. and then I would run around, covered in sand and sweat, chasing two little boys all day.  I would dig holes, take rocks and sand out of mouths, and most importantly prevent drowning.  It’s exhausting.  I’m tired.

These kids need to learn how to fend for themselves, and SWIM – so I can sit in a chair and read US Weekly, and look up occasionally……Is that too much to ask?

We sent both kids to about 5 or 6 costly sessions of lessons in hopes that they would learn to swim at an early age.  My husband and I did “Rock, Paper, Scissors,” to see who would get in a bathing suit and splash around during the “Parent and Me” lessons, and we were out about $500 before we realized we were getting nowhere fast.  If they both got tossed in a pool they would sink like a bag of rocks.

Last summer, Michael finally could stay afloat and do the doggy paddle.  When we went away this spring, he jumped right into the pool, no problem.   I was busy putting SPF on Sam with my back to the pool and Sam started laughing and said nonchalantly, “Look at Michael….he’s drowning.”

What do you know – he was fully drowning.

Into the pool I went to save him with my clothes on.

“This is bullshit!” I screamed at my husband shortly after I saved our child’s life, as he leisurely arrived at the pool, while I stood drenched in my clothes.  While I was putting sunscreen on the kids, blowing up inflatables until I passed out, saving people’s lives and getting the beginning of a sunburn because I spent a half hour taking care of the kids instead of protecting myself from the sun, my husband “had to go to the bathroom.” Please note all that occurred during the time that he spent on one trip to the bathroom.

“Why? What happened?” he said incredulously holding a beer and a copy of Men’s Health.

“Michael drowned!” I screamed.

“Really? I thought he could swim…”

“Well apparently he forgot.” I said with disgust.

Michael was listening to the conversation – floating on a tube in the pool, completely recovered from the traumatic event.  He said casually, “Mom, you should be a lifeguard.”

“I don’t want to be a lifeguard! You guys have to swim!!” I yelled hysterically.

So fast-forward to May, time to pull out the big guns.  There is a swimming school 20 minutes from us that operates a very intense and expensive program.  For over $400 for 2 kids, every night for 2 weeks, they promise you 2 swimming children. 

I signed up for lessons that started at 6:30 for Sam and 7:30 for Michael.  Insane? YES!!!!

I thought – “OK – it will be a rough 2 weeks and it will be worth it.”

First off – this place is in a huge glass building and parents are not allowed inside during lessons.  We are allowed to watch from outside through patches of condensation on the glass to see if we are getting our money’s worth.  Well of course, lessons started 2 weeks ago when it literally RAINED EVERY SINGLE NIGHT.  So there I am each night drenched, miserable, with one child hanging on me telling me they are cold, staring at the clock waiting for the lessons to be over.  One night it was thundering and lightening, and my husband tried to come in the building and they made him go wait in his car!! SWIMMING NAZIS!

Also, because its 20 minutes away, by the time we took showers and got home each night, it was a little before 9.  To say the kids were tired is a huge understatement.  We haven’t been to the bus stop in 2 weeks, and everyone was on edge, and could very easily be reduced to tears at any moment.

Oh – and wait, don’t let me forget the best part! Sam started each morning when he woke up by opening his eyes and bursting into tears, saying “I don’t want to go to swimming tonight!”  He actually cried throughout 7 out of 10 lessons.  I would peek in and see him with his hands on the edge of the pool practicing his kicking just hysterically crying.  There I am, out $450, plus hundreds more on gas, exhausted and this kid is inconsolable.

More than once I thought I had made a huge mistake all in the name of sitting down on the beach, but we trudged along.

One morning I was at the end of my rope, and Sam was doing his morning routine. 

“I hate swimming!” he screamed, “I am never going to swim! NEVER!!” he yelled through tears.

I lost it.

“You ARE going to swim!!!” I yelled, “And not only that you had better be Michael Phelps when this is over!” I screamed in his face.

He just looked at me blankly for a couple of seconds and then started crying again. 

Friday was our last night – thank you Jesus.  Parents were actually invited in!  Do you know that both kids calmly walked down this long diving board, waved to me, jumped into 9 feet of water, popped up and swam to their teacher!!

It was a MIRACLE!!!!   It’s not Olympic worthy – but if I can even read the “Stars – they are just like Us” page of US Weekly I’m going to be one happy girl.

If you love your weekly Goo Goo Gaga – please vote for me by clicking on the banner below!! Thanks ;)

 

Reposted for Adventures in Mommyhood

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