RSS Feed

Tag Archives: funny mom blog

Big Fish in a Kiddie Pool


As a mother I find myself continually walking a fine line between “Tiger Mom” and fat lazy American mom.

On the one hand I grew up in the 1980′s and reminisce fondly of my childhood years where there was little to no parent interaction and we would play outside all day, enjoying life without being shuffled around from activity to activity. Other times I am swayed by the mothers of Goopville that live in their SUV’s driving their children from sport to sport, music lesson to karate and wonder if I am shoving enough down their throats doing enough.

This week I wavered back and forth quite a bit.

Over the weekend, Michael had baseball tryouts. Because he is young for his grade he misses the cut-off for moving into the league for nine and ten-year-olds. Instead of staying behind with seven and eight year olds he wanted to try out to move up with some friends from last year’s team.

I have mentioned before how Mr. Gaga is quick to dismiss the children’s athletic abilities. The stress leading up to the try-outs was intense. Thank God I was working and did not have to witness the actual try-outs because Mr. Gaga said it was agonizing. They waited and watched each kid get up and field balls, catch pop-ups and hit. He said Michael’s face was bloodless and zombie-like as he waited anxiously for his turn.

A table of washed up dads that are living vicariously through their children  men took notes while staring down boys showing off their baseball moves.  They didn’t crack a smile once as they dismissed each child and called up the next.

When it was Michael’s turn, Mr. Gaga said he did ok, but we would have to wait until Wednesday to find out the results.

27y62kh

 

For some reason I picture the tryouts being pretty much like this except instead of a crazy jump with a somersault he was catching ground balls....

For some reason I picture the tryouts being pretty much like this except instead of a crazy jumps and somersaults he was catching ground balls….and he wasn’t wearing a leotard.

 

We found out mid-week that he made the team which was great news, but then I was bloodless and zombie-like.  I started to worry that we made a bad decision to let him try out.

“Maybe I should have let him stay with the younger kids so he could be the star of the team,” I said to Mr. Gaga.   “I always push him and every other mother holds their kids back so they can be superstars…..now he is going to have to keep up with ten-year-olds!!” I said wringing my hands.

“It will be fine.” Mr. Gaga answered dismissively.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, we had conference week to contend with.  I was determined to find out if Michael was stupid or smart.

His teacher showed me some of what he has been working on. The minute she started to speak about math and scores I lost interest and couldn’t understand what she was saying.  As she rambled on about “math facts” and “common core” I blacked out and started to think about what I would make for dinner.  When the endless ramblings wouldn’t end, I cut her short and said, “Let’s pretend it’s the 1980′s.  Would he be in the smart class or not?”

She stared back at me blankly and didn’t even smile.  I then realized she probably doesn’t even know about the 1980′s.  She was probably born in 1990!!!

She showed me some test scores that indicated that he was reading and drawing groups of bananas doing math at an above average level.  This was the most information I got out of a teacher in years!!

Sam’s was the usual meeting about how wonderful and amazing he his.  When I mentioned that he gets extremely frustrated with the common core math problems, she wasn’t surprised.

“Well do you write out the answers for him?” she asked.

“NO! I would never!” I defended myself from this horrific accusation.

“Okay, well you can if you would like,” she answered sweetly, ” a lot of parents do that part of the homework for their kids.”

“Well, not this one!” I exclaimed. “I already completed the first grade, this is not my problem!” I exclaimed defiantly.

“Okay,” she answered calmly.  “But did Sam ever ask you to do it for him?”

“Um no – because he knows better.  He knows that I would laugh in his face.”

“Ok…..well if you ever change your mind…” she drifted off.

WHAT??!!

Now the teachers are telling us to do the kids common core homework because it is too hard?!!

The teacher is telling me that many parents are actually writing out the homework answers when their kids are perfectly capable of writing!!

Ashton

I was pretty sure at this point – this guy was watching from the hallway….

 

 

Meanwhile, on top of all of this achievement we have started the dreaded swimming lesson season.  I have told stories in the past about how furious I become during these lessons.  How my children flail about year after year, excuse themselves from their swimming lessons to go poop and how they never seem to progress despite years of lessons.

As a result, when we began lessons a couple months ago they were placed at the same level that they have been for years, while other children have swum and gone.

On the first day, Michael and Sam hopped in the water waiting for their class to begin.  The instructor asked where my children were.

“They are right there in the pool waiting for their “clownfish toddler swim program”….why?”

burtreynolds2

 

The teachers were even visibly shocked this session as it was noticably absurd to have thirty five year olds in such a low level swim class. Michael especially towered over the other children.

I warned him that he better not go to the bathroom once and that he better advance this year or there would be hell to pay.

Like the years before spent behind the glass watching my pathetic swimmers….I was disgusted.  Watching my huge children flail about in the water with 5 year olds was painful.

When I saw Michael actually carrying one of his fellow swimmers I had enough.....

When I saw Michael actually carrying one of his fellow swimmers I had enough…..

 

I stormed into talk to the instructor after the lesson was over.

“Um – can he advance to the next level? He’s like 45 years old – and it seems absurd…” I said briskly.

“Yes – we definitely want to work with him so he can move forward,” the instructor said kindly.  “Now maybe have you considered when this program is over – taking lessons at the School of Swimming or the YMCA?” she said carefully because she clearly thought she was dealing with an idiot.

“Yes!” I said cheerfully.  “We have participated in both of those programs as well as two others, swimming lessons for three years at the beach and your program for three seasons!!”

My tone changed then, “I am into these two for thousands of dollars in swimming lessons,” I said pointing to my two children that were wrapped up in their towels laughing and fooling around, oblivious about what losers they were.

“I am NOT signing up for any other programs. I am signed up here and you will teach him to swim!” I shrieked.

Last week in the midst of waiting to find out if Michael was an idiot at his conference and if he made the baseball team – the swimming teacher confirmed that he in fact has made progress and will likely pass onto the next level of swimming this week!!

It is a swimming miracle sent from Jesus.

In the end of all of this stress, it turns out that Michael is smart, can swim and made the baseball team.

I don’t know how those Tiger moms do it….I am just not cut out for all of this over-achievement.

 

I MET A FEW WOMEN THIS WEEK THAT RANDOMLY KNEW ABOUT MY SECRET IDENTITY AND ASKED IF I REALLY SWORE IN FRONT OF MY KIDS AND THE ANSWER IS YES!!! CAN’T I HAVE ONE PLEASURE IN LIFE? BUT I DID CHALLENGE MYSELF TO A BLOG POST MINUS ANY CURSING AND A NOD TO JESUS…I WILL BE BACK TO MY OLD SELF NEXT WEEK….NOT TO WORRY.

PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO KEEP ME IN THE RUNNING AS AMERICA’S FUNNIEST MOTHER!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

150-tmb

 

 

 

What I learned in 2013….


It’s time for my annual year in review.

I am lucky to have this blog so I can go back and see what happened in my life throughout the year and see what mattered to all of you. Here is the blow by blow recap:

JANUARY 2013 – In the beginning of 2013 we started preparing for Michael’s first holy communion and I was met with the ugly truth behind the Catholic church’s planning for date selection. I almost got killed during the “Sign-up for Communion date” meeting – but I got the date I wanted so it worked out….

These women ended up not getting the date they wanted because they had to be rushed to the emergency room..The cross above their heads is a symbol of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Jesus died on the cross for us. On nights like this one, I am sure he’s wondering if that was a bad move….

These women ended up not getting the date they wanted because they had to be rushed to the emergency room..The cross above their heads is a symbol of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Jesus died on the cross for us. On nights like this one, I am sure he’s wondering if that was a bad move….

2 – In February, just when I was starting to doubt Jesus and his almighty powers, I was saved and all was made right in the universe when Kim Kardashian was impregnated by Kanye West.

I still find it shocking that Kim wants to be wrapped up with this narcissistic asshole but I guess she will eventually figure this out the hard way…..

I wrote her a very special letter to warn her about what she could expect…

mySuperLamePic_bada7bdbc1c0a2cf6116ec3512fdbec7

3 – In February we were met with yet another Northeast weather disaster.  This particular catastrophe was a BLIZZARD!  Per usual people lost their fucking marbles while they attempted to prepare for 3 FEET of SNOW!!!

By the time I got to the local grocery store this was what the banana stand was like …just so you can see how insane people behave during inclement weather…..

banana

I know that bread and milk were sold out – but now you are all going to live off of bananas? And who’s the wise guy that just left behind a plantain and a box of firecrackers???

4 - In March, everyone was all abuzz about the book “Leaning In” which detailed how women of today could totally focus on their career and succeed!! I found that I was much better at “leaning out.”

This was the last time I "leaned in" for something. I was trying to listen to the weather report to be sure I heard correctly that my kids would have their 10th day off from school due to snow.

This was the last time I “leaned in” for something. I was trying to listen to the weather report to be sure I heard correctly that my kids would have their 10th day off from school due to snow.

5 – In April we went to Disney World.  Boy, was I in for a real education on American behaviors.  I relayed my astonishment regarding the HUGE BEVERAGES that were served in Disney World and the HUGE HUMAN BEINGS that were zipping around on carts.

Some of you got pissed about that…..

Sorry! I just report as I see it fat people!

mickeyfam

Look how this guy balances his massive soda with a broken hand!! These injured people are so determined!!!

6 – In May, we finally had Michael’s communion after much hard work. (see above)

It went well except for when I lost all of my photos to document my good holy works, thank Jesus I still had my pic of the holy cross made out of pepperoni…

What more could Jesus want from me?? I mean if this cured meat cross doesn't secure my place in heaven then I give up....

What more could Jesus want from me?? I mean if this cured meat cross doesn’t secure my place in heaven then I give up….

7 – As the summer approached I may or may not have bumped up my drinking and bumped down my parenting…

If the kids found me like this in the morning they just made their way to camp on their own...it's called building independance in children....They will thank me one day.

If the kids found me like this in the morning they just made their way to camp on their own…it’s called building independence in children….They will thank me one day.

8 – Toward the end of the summer, we started to get ready for back-to-school, which is when I once again 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……

This blog went VIRAL!! It was my hit of the year – and I know it’s because we all feel the same angst about lunch making in America.

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.

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.

9 – In the fall one of my good friends had a baby.  I went to visit her and noticed that sometimes new mothers go a little crazy when it comes to first baby nursery decor.  Many of you were VERY ANGRY about my commentary…but many of you were VERY LAUGHING at how fucking stupid it all is….This is why I LOVE MY READERS!!!

Please note the newborn size tiara's on the shelf...I believe that tiara was placed on the baby's head as it was crowning to be sure that she knew immediately that she was a princess....

Please note the newborn size tiara’s on the shelf…I believe that tiara was placed on the baby’s head as it was crowning to be sure that she knew immediately that she was a princess….

10- Finally in December, while I juggled all that I had to do I realized that this ELF ON THE SHELF was really putting things over the edge for me.  I wrote an open letter to the clever Elf creators…..

You guys think you and your elves are just so damn cute....All I see here are three twats with double chins....

You guys think you and your elves are just so damn cute….All I see here are three twats with double chins….

Everyone loved this…This was my number 2 post of the year!!( only second to Pottery Barn lunch post.) What does that tell me??

That mothers in America are tired!!  We don’t have time for stupid bullshit like daisy sandwiches and Elf games!! We are smart, busy people that value our time and energy!!!

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!!!!

Happy New Year!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

150-tmb

Making Mr. Gaga


Because it’s Father’s Day I had to not ask Mr. Gaga to do anything, I had to not complain about anything in the house.

I had to not be bitchy or snippy.

I had to bite my tongue when he was watching Rocky in the middle of the day for no apparent reason, and I had to smile robotically when he said he had to go to my brother’s house at 2 o’clock in the afternoon “because smoking wings takes hours and we need to start early to have them ready for dinner.”

As a result I am totally mentally drained.

This week I am offering a very short and sweet tale.

Mr. Gaga wasn’t always Mr. Gaga.

He used to have his own hopes and dreams that didn’t include me.

Even after we were dating for a while, he repeatedly attempted to break it off.

“I don’t think we should go out anymore….we have to break up.” he would say.

“No.” I would answer back.

“I am going to go out with other people.” he would plead.

“Yeah, no…..you’re not.” I would calmly answer.

“I don’t like you.” he would say when he was at the end of his rope.

“Yes you do…you love me.” I would answer back.

It wasn't that I was completely insane...it was just that I knew we were meant to be....

It wasn’t that I was completely insane…it was just that I knew we were meant to be….

Finally when nothing he would say would stick he would just throw his hands up and say “Ok fine – forget it.”

I was always making this poor guy do things that he didn’t want to do.

I had visions of romance and love and I would make him to take me to fancy restaurants, buy me fancy gifts, write me fancy letters.

I was 19.

One night around the time that he kept trying to break up with me, I had planned a romantic night in watching movies in my college dorm while all of our friends were out at a bar.

We were about to start the movie, and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

When I came back Mr. Gaga was missing.

window

I looked out the window.

This guy was so determined to get away from me, he jumped out a second story window, landed in some bushes and I could see him running down the street towards the bar.

Thinking quick on my feet I tossed aside my lounge clothes and put on my “Break up shirt.”

*Because Mr. Gaga was frequently breaking up with me, I had special clothes I wore during tumultuous times, called “break-up shirts” that basically allowed me to go out naked, ensuring I would receive much attention from men out at the bar. 

Oh well, I'll just drink this whole bottle of vodka and I am sure someone else in this bar will be happy to watch a movie with me....

Oh well, I’ll just drink this whole bottle of vodka and then I am sure I will find someone else in this bar who will be happy to watch a movie with me….

In the end, no matter what he did, he just couldn’t manage to escape.

He stopped trying after a while, and we were in love.

Then we had kids, and though we still love each other, things can get hectic around here and sometimes I yell at him or act a smidge bitchy.

Also I started a mom blog in which he stars as “Mr. Gaga.”   I mean what more could a guy want?

Sometimes he might secretly dream of jumping out that window, running like the wind into the night and drinking shots and beers until he can’t stand up.

Thankfully, he no longer acts on it.

He’s learned over time that there’s no use trying to escape….he will be Mr. Gaga forever.

THE LESSON HERE IS A LITTLE STALKING NEVER HURT ANYONE AND CAN SOMETIMES PAY OFF! I am a lucky girl.  Happy Father’s Day to Mr. Gaga and all the Dads out there!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

challenge114

 

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!

150-tmb

 

May the force be with me….


Mr. Gaga is responsible for taking care of the kids most Saturdays.

I am not at the spa.

I am not getting a pedicure or lunching with friends.

I am working most Saturdays.

Mr. Gaga will have everyone thinking that he has it very rough.  He will tell random people that he runs into at games, birthday parties, and the store that he’s a “single dad.”

When interacting with other parents of children we barely know he will find a way to steer the conversation to some point where he can announce, “Well, I do everything  because I am a single dad.”

He finds this hilarious.

Last Saturday was the first basketball games of the season for both kids.

When we all got home I asked how it went.

“Good, Sam’s coach seems nice and I saw Todd’s mom and we were talking about the Star Wars party she’s having for him next weekend.”

(Todd is Sam’s friend – we have gone out socially with his parents one time.)

“She said that we were invited to stay during the party and hang out and eat…”

“Hmm, hmm,” I said distractedly as I read my email.

“So I told her that we would bring Star Wars cookies.” he threw in nonchalantly.

Imagine this making a huge screeching noise....

Imagine this making a huge screeching noise….

“And what did she say???” I asked, hoping that this mother responded with something like “Oh no – that’s not necessary!”

“She said “Great!,” he answered.

“What??!! Why??!!!” I asked in shock.

“Well we have those cookie cutters…” he answered nonchalantly…”What’s the big deal?”

When a kind aunt that always gives my kids really cool stuff was nice enough to give us these fancy Star Wars cookie cutters from Williams Sonoma, I did what any level-headed woman would do.  I hid the box in a closet.

Sorry Aunt Sue, but this box hasn't seen the light of day since you gave it to us....

Sorry Aunt Sue, but this box hasn’t seen the light of day since you gave it to us….

Apparently Williams Sonoma thinks it’s just every mother’s dream to sit around making baked goods into the shapes of Star Wars characters.

Also – if that’s not enough activity to kill all of your time and your will to live you can also make Star Wars pancakes.

Screw you Williams Sonoma......you are an asshole...and your pancakes are assholes too.

Screw you Williams Sonoma……

And if you have completely lost your marbles…for the bargain-price of $15 you can actually flip this Darth Vader-shaped breakfast with this:

spatula

Needless to say Thursday afternoon came, and I had to get to work on the cookies. First I went to the store to purchase the 47 types of frosting I would need to create these cinematic masterpieces.

 I made the sugar cookie dough.  I hosted a playdate for Sam’s friend and then two other kids came over for dinner, while their parents were at a wake.  I baked 5 dozen sugar cookies while the kids played.

When I cleaned up from dinner and had the kids had settled at around 8 PM, it was time to start frosting the cookies.

“OK, I’m going to head up and take a shower and go to bed.” Mr. Gaga said coolly as he started up the stairs.

“Oh no you aren’t.” I said threateningly.  “You better take this black frosting and start with some Darth Vaders.”

He huffed and puffed but attempted to help while I was working diligently on my Storm Troopers.

He looked over with disgust…”What the hell is that?? That’s not a Storm Trooper…it’s a sad dog with a headband on!!!”

He had a point....

He had a point….

“WELL I’M NOT GOOD AT THIS SHIT!! THAT’S WHY I HID THE BOX TWO YEARS AGO AND NEVER TOOK IT OUT!!!!!” I yelled.

I had green and black frosting everywhere, the kitchen was trashed and I was delirious.

“I hope you are happy…from now on when you go to games or birthday parties keep your mouth shut!” I said with disgust.

By 9 o’clock he had completely abandoned ship.

I spent the entire night cursing him and George Lucas.

I was seeing double and exhausted when I finally finished all of the cookies.

But then they looked absolutely horrible…nothing like the box.  Nothing like Williams Sonoma told me they would look like…

I made Mr. Gaga come look at the cookies.

“I can’t see straight…my back and eyeballs are killing me….but does this just look like an entire rack of Saddam Hussein cookies?? That’s all I see.”

photo

I ate the cookie on the bottom left because it looked like some sort of Arab dictator with sunglasses on….and I didn’t think that would be appropriate for a kids’ party.

“No they look fine!” he said wearily. “Just go to bed!”

“I can’t go to bed now!! I still have to do Boba Fett’s black trim and the red dots in the Yoda eyes!!”

In the end – they came out decent enough…..

4 cookies

This is not exactly what the ass-hats at Williams Sonoma had in mind…but it will have to do.

I think that the people who come up with these crafty little ideas at the Williams Sonoma corporation should be held accountable for the hours of torture they inflict on people…..

But in the meantime, in case you were wondering …I am the best mother ever.

challenge94

PLEASE CLICK THE LINK BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME IN A VERY IMPORTANT CONTEST THAT I NEED DESPERATELY TO WIN FOR MY POOR SELF-ESTEEM…THE CONTEST CLOSES IN A FEW WEEKS AND YOU CAN VOTE ONCE A DAY!!! THANK YOU !! THANK YOU!!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

link_badge

http://www.circleofmoms.com/blogger/lady-goo-goo-gaga?blogroll_id=89#_

Raising Justin Beiber


Sam has had an effect on people from a young age.  He has the ability to charm the pants off of whoever he meets.

Last year when he was in preschool we realized at the teacher conference that he had even snowed the teachers. The teacher went on and on about how much she loved Sam.  She even told us that she didn’t even bother to fill out the paperwork for the conference because he was beyond any of the little boxes and bubbles on the forms.

But this was the kicker.

“He is an amazing child.  He is literally my favorite student in my ten years of teaching.  I really think you should take him to the toy store and buy him whatever he wants.” (He was sitting nearby and heard this.)

I love Sam and I have been known to let things slide with him when he charms me, but I couldn’t believe he had such an effect on his teacher.

“Maybe we should get him into acting or modeling.” I told Mr. Gaga over dinner that night.

“No, he’s just a kid, let him enjoy his childhood.” Mr. Gaga said firmly.

“Well someone has to work around here, and I think it should be him.” I answered matter-of-factly. “He has star-quality!”

“No.”

I hung it up for the time being and concentrated on getting ready for kindergarten.  Sam doesn’t have much in the stamina department so I was anticipating him having a difficult time making it through the full-day without having a nervous breakdown.

Surprisingly, he has done quite well.  The first day, he hooked up with an old friend at recess and he said he made some new friends.

The second day when he came home I asked him about who he played with at recess.   He threw his bag down and put his hands up in protest.

“Well, I had to make a decision about who to play with.  I opened the door to go outside and everywhere I looked people were saying “Sam! Sam!!!” They all wanted me to play with them, so I had to make a decision.”

I am absolutely sure that when Sam walked outside to the playground this is what he saw.

Apparently his magical charms work on small children too.

Life is much easier when everyone likes you.  This is something I am not familiar with.  Since I was a small child, if I even looked at someone they would say “What are you looking at? You bitch!” And I would be like “But I’m 5!” and they would be like “I don’t care, you gave me a dirty look.” And I would be like “That’s just what my face looks like!!!” Nobody ever believed me.

I could never understand why people didn’t like me.

Since people actually hate me on sight(which is fine, because I usually hate them back) this magnetism that Sam has must be from Mr. Gaga.

Last week we had to have pictures taken for Christmas cards.  Last year, and basically all years since they were born, this involves a sweaty torturous hour, that leaves me at the end of my rope and penniless.

This year, I started warning them 24 hours ahead of time that they had a pending photo shoot the next day and that they needed to be on their best behavior.  That night as I tucked Sam in, he said “Mom, by the way, I can’t wait for tomorrow do you know why?”

“No why?”

“Because I love photo-shoots.”

Wait…what?

“Good night love bug!! So glad to hear that you LOVE being the star of a photo shoot!!!”

It wouldn’t be bad or exploitative if he “loves photo shoots” would it???

I decided to do a little research.  What made Justin Beiber’s parents decide to put him on YouTube and make him a star? How did they know they were doing the right thing? What makes a nice couple from Canada create the next great teen heart-throb of our time?

Oh. …..not what I was expecting.

“Um apparently we missed the boat on having the next Beiber.” he explained to Mr. Gaga.

“Why?”

“I should have had you knock me up when I was 18 and then we should have skipped college and just saved up for a video camera…..We could already be rich by now…”

“Shoot.” Mr Gaga said with disinterest.

I put the whole idea out of my mind for a while, only thinking of it when he asked recently how old he would have to be to get a tattoo and his ears pierced.

“Well your 5, so at least another 13 year.” I explained.

He was devastated.

Back to concentrating on kindergarten.

Sam’s kindergarten teacher is the same one that Michael had, she is older and not the warm and fuzzy teacher you expect from kindergarten.  She runs a tight ship, which is actually good for young boys. I thought it would be healthy to have an older, more serious teacher, so that Sam wouldn’t always be fawned over.

This week we had our conferences, and while I was sure that she would tell me she loved Sam, I was also sure that she might mention that he doesn’t always like to complete his work, and I knew she wouldn’t make a big deal over him like the preschool teachers.

We started out fairly normal.  The anticipated “we love Sam,” even the “everyone who works here loves Sam.”

Ok.

And then….

“I just don’t know why you wouldn’t have more children if you know that you can produce this kind of child…..” she said earnestly.

“Ummm…..I’m done having kids.” I said as I peered over the charts showing his progress.  His progress seemed great, although some of the stuff looked a little different from the one she had for Michael.  For example, she had changed the behavior chart.

“Ok, so how about his work, does he finish his work?” it was like I was baiting her to say something bad about him.

She waved her hands in disgust.  “Oh sometimes he doesn’t finish all of his work…but that’s fine.”

“Well why? Why doesn’t he finish his work?”

“Well, I don’t bother him, because everything he does is sooo perfect and sooo beautiful.  I don’t even want to say anything about him not finishing, because it doesn’t matter.  He doesn’t finish because he is working so hard to make sure everything is so perfect.” she went on as she opened up his work packet to show us.

Out of 8 pages, maybe 2 were completed.  On the blank pages, instead of doing work, there were little drawings of ninjas and weird symbols.

“What are these?” I asked Mr. Gaga pointing to the drawings.

He peered over at the papers, “Oh, those are chinese stars and nunchucks.”

It appeared he didn’t exactly run out of time.

As Mr. Gaga and I walked out to our car, I said, “Well…….she has the fever.”

Mr. Gaga shrugged as we got into the car.

As we buckled in, I looked at him.

“I want a new video camera for Christmas.”

I’M NOT SAYING I’M GOING TO BE A KRIS JENNER….BUT IT’S WORTH A TRY!!!  CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME FOR THE BEST STAGE MOM  FUNNIEST MOM BLOG!!!!

Unwanted Hair and House guests


The other day I picked up Michael from his after-school “Mad Science” program.  A little girl named Mary from Sam’s kindergarten class was left behind as all the parents were picking up their kids except for her.

She looked longingly at us as we all moved away from the doorway down the hall.  “Oh  – I feel bad for Mary,” I said to Sam as we walked to the car.

“Yeah, well – she has lice.” he said matter-of-factly as he hopped into the back seat.

“Wait, what?” I asked in a panic. I shouldn’t have been surprised since the child looks like her mother hadn’t combed her hair since she was born.

This was Mary at the open house for kindergarten. It’s no surprise that the lice took one look at her and saw a happy home.

Of course when a kid in the class has lice it’s not long before it starts hopping around to everyone, and I hadn’t received a note from the nurse.

“How do you know?” I demanded.

“She told us on the bus.” Michael answered.

“She just announced on the bus, “I have lice?” She doesn’t even care?” I asked incredulously.

They both shrugged and looked out the window.

Is this the world we live in now?  Where children are so immune to their peers being filthy with tangled hair filled with bugs?

My BF that lives in Rhode Island knew what to do. “Oh God – I spend hours in the morning putting gel and hairspray in the kids’ hair, lice don’t like hair products.”

This is where being guidos comes in handy.  We have been waking up a little early to be sure that everyone has their hair “did,” but now they help each other to be sure they have enough product in.

While everyone else’s kid in this town looks like they came straight off the set of the Brady Bunch, mine look like they are on their way to go clubbing at Karma.

Even though it’s excessive, I actually prefer it to the way other parents have their boys walking around looking like a Brady child.  It wasn’t cute in the 1970′s and it’s definitely not cute now.

I am sorry but this is just unacceptable. And seeing as its 2012, there’s really no need to send a boy to kindergarten looking like this….Why don’t you just put a big sign on his head saying “ATTENTION LICE! I HAVE DIRTY GIRL HAIR, COME LIVE IN IT!”

I had a crazy week that involved driving home at 2 am in a nor’easter, going to New York twice for work, and hiring babysitters and my husband for the morning “get-ready-for-school duty”, so it was nice to get to the weekend and not have to stress about gelling people’s hair.

Except one problem.  Michael came home with a stuffed animal frog.

His homework was to babysit this disgusting bedbugs collector  stuffed animal for the weekend, taking pictures and reporting on his fun times.

I find stuffed animals to be vile creatures filled with dust and dead skin cells.  I throw out as many as I can from the kids’ closets when they aren’t paying attention.  At fairs, they are not allowed to play any games that might win them a huge stuffed animal filled with styrofoam pellets.   The absolute bane of my existence is when people line the back of their car windows with little stuffed animals.

Is this person just trying to spark a fit of road rage for anyone driving behind him?                 What kind of sick maniac does this?

So imagine my alarm when I found out we were babysitting “Francisco” the stuffed frog.

I wanted to vomit when I came home and found it on the kitchen table. His frog fur was matted and thick, and he looked like he had been around for a very long time.

“What the fuck is this?” I yelled at Mr. Gaga as I drop-kicked the frog across the room, (which is my immediate reaction to dirty stuffed animals.)

“No Mom!!” Michael yelled as he retrieved the injured frog from the corner of the room. “This is my class frog!” he explained.  He was thrilled to tell me the news that he was in charge of entertaining the frog for the weekend and that he would have to take pictures and share with his class on Monday all of their adventures.

Friday night after a long week of working crazy hours, I promised the kids we could have movie night.  I actually vomited in my mouth when I turned to look at Michael and saw this.

All the hair gel in the world can’t save us now.

When Michael went to sleep, I had to steal the filthy animal and take care of business.   By the end of the weekend we had a couple of pictures and Michael wrote a nice story about what he did with the frog.  I had to “help him remember” though.  A few times he said “Wait, was Francisco with me on the swings?” or “Was Francisco with me at Grandma’s party?”

I assured him Francisco was by his side all weekend….

In fact, he spent a great deal of time doing what I wanted him to do.

First I soaked him with Lysol…..

One time Michael and Sam were looking frantically for the frog to play with.

I had to quickly and discreetly release him…..

He spent a good deal of time sealed in a plastic bag outside, in an effort to kill all the bed bugs and lice….(Your welcome Francisco and the rest of the class.)

Thank goodness the frog leaves tomorrow.

Let’s just hope he doesn’t leave any “friends” behind.

SO I HATE STUFFED ANIMALS….DOESN’T EVERYBODY???

150-tmbopengrid

Unsafe Safety Latches


I’ve been frazzled.

Last week I literally had no obligations.

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

I cooked. I cleaned.

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

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

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

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

That was a bad morning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What Michael?” I finally answered.

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

I peered back at him in the rearview mirror.

I hadn’t thought this through, had I?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then I looked up at him as he turned around.

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

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

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

“You Sam mother?”

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

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

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

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

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

It was 9:00 am.

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

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

My placenta tastes better than your placenta……


We just had a conference week so EVERY DAY was early dismissal!! You know how the teachers in my town don’t like to stay at school anytime after 3:30…right?  

So by cutting the school day short they are able to eat 55 sandwiches and meet with parents without having a long day.

Anyways, so what we did to fill our days was host playdates!!  I was due for a bunch so we had 6 playdates this week and I have to say that now that the kids are getting older – it really isn’t too bad.

However – it made me think back to the time when I was locked up in the house with babies and had gotten roped into a playgroup.  Those playdates were the absolute worst hours of my life!!!

Let’s face it – the playdate for babies and toddlers is really an excuse for bored moms to get together and talk about how horrible their lives are. 

Of course, my luck is to get stuck with a bunch of women who want to talk about how much they love their children.

Playdates are also an opportunity for moms to participate in one of their favorite past-times which is to compete with other mothers. 

Why do we do it? 

Why do we even compete about food??

Why do we care?

But we do.

It starts right from the minute we get pregnant.

“You eat cold cuts? – Oh I would never, I haven’t even had a drop of coffee, not even decaf because Dr. Oz says there’s caffeine in decaf….”

Then we start right away competing with the whole breastfeeding war.

“I breastfed Ava right up until she was ready for first grade…I didn’t mind at all….”

Then we jump into food. 

Oh I would never feed my baby – baby food from a jar!!! I make all of my own baby food from scratch.  I bought a $300 baby food maker and it purees an organic banana like you wouldn’t believe.”

Of course some people even take it a step further.

January Jones recently announced that she has been consuming her own placenta since giving birth to her child.  This is the new cool thing to do apparently.  Placentas can be ground up and eaten in pill form for the squeamish…..

Alicia Silverstone has been all over the headlines because she believes that she is a bird.  Because of this – she spits food into her child’s mouth after she chews it for him.

Let me just say Alicia – there is something called a food processor.  I know you are out to win “Mom of the Century” but let’s not reinvent the wheel here.

There are many ways to cut up food.  If you didn’t want to waste energy by using a blender – (because I know how you hippies are) you could even use a good old fork and knife to cut things up.

I’m not quite sure what you are accomplishing by making out with your baby in this manner,  instead of just feeding him like a rational adult. 

When I got invited into my mommy cult playgroup – I was new to the world of playdates and wasn’t really aware of all of the rules and etiquette.

When it was my first time hosting, I racked my brain to think of the perfect snack that would make the kids like me the best.

It was my friend Martha that said "Good mothers don't feed their kids red and orange dyes......"

I didn’t know! 

I also was thinking that maybe these women (whom I had never met before) could be my new friends.   I had been in the house going crazy – my only communication being with long-distance friends on the phone.

I was kind of picturing this in my kitchen once a week:

I mean how bad could it be? We can talk some shit about other moms and neighbors, dish some celebrity gossip and ignore the kids..... This could be fun!!

So – when I was finished filling baskets with Doritos I got together some “Mommy treats”……

This did not go over well - apparently some people think that 10:30 am is too early for a Skinnygirl Cosmo......what a bunch of losers.

I slowly realized what was proper and acceptable and what wasn’t. 

Kids were given water or breast milk served directly from a huge engorged boob that was whipped out at any given moment with reckless abandon, and a choice of cut up grapes or goldfish crackers. 

Moms were served this:

Instead of running for my life after my first encounter with these idiots – I stuck it out for like 6 months.  I kept trying to talk to them truthfully about how difficult life was or how sometimes I would eat more than just my placenta pills at breakfast even though I was fat. 

They never responded appropriately, the way any of my real friends would.

One time they were all talking about how devastating it would be when the kids (who were all 2 at the time) started preschool. After everyone kept going on and on about how many tears they would shed when they left Brayden, Cayden, Layden and Jaden at the preschool for 2 hours, I interjected.

“Um – really? I intend to peel out of the parking lot at warp speeds and chain smoke Parliament Lights all the way home…….” I said matter-of-factly as I popped a chunk of my placenta into my mouth.

When I looked up this is what I saw…….

Nobody said a word.....Nobody laughed......a cricket chirped....and then I just got my coat and left.

What is happening to this world?

Why can’t we laugh at ourselves?

Why can’t we just feed our kids food and beverages and act normal???

WHY????

ATTENTION NEW MOTHERS!! 

Do not feel inferior to crazy lunatics that think their placenta is better than a Dorito. 

Do your best, feed your child in a calm rational manner.

Oh and one more thing……..Do not join a playgroup.

I ACTUALLY HAVE SINCE QUIT SMOKING – SO I THINK I DESERVE AT LEAST A VOTE ON THE LINK BELOW…..THANK YOU MUCH!!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

 

Linking to

Preschool Mother Fail


So I have been back to stay-at-home mom for the most part lately – since my little work project forced me to abandon my family over the holidays. 

When you are home face to face with what really needs to be done in the house and with the children – it is quite daunting.

When I was on the go – scrambling to stay alive – I didn’t have time to notice that the hallway needs to be painted or that my youngest child thinks that he spells his name “MAS.”

I didn’t really care if chicken fingers were on the menu again for dinner or if my older child got school “lunch” on the disgusting “Nacho Day.”

So – I have had a little more time to feel guilty or feel like a failure lately.  (Although I got the hallway painted and had an amazing decorator help me to “style” a shelf in my house!!)  It is quite nice to have a minute to get some little areas of my house cleaned up and looking nice.

The shelf – previously was known for featuring dust bunnies and lego pieces - and I told the kids that it is now off-limits.  Once they understood they could never touch the shelf again -they took it very seriously and put this up in front of the shelf – so even they seem happy to have a home that is somewhat in order….

I digress.  Back to being a failure.

Last week – as I was picking up Sam from school I heard one of the other mothers mention that she had forgotten to do the homework.

“What homework?” I asked.

“Oh – they sent home a sheet about their weekly activities – and it said it on the bottom.” the mom said nonchalantly.

“What? I threw that sheet in the garbage! What is the homework?”  I was panicking now.   I try to not be a completely horrible mother – and blatantly throwing homework assignments in the garbage doesn’t exactly line me up for “Mother of the Year.”

“It’s something about “environmental words” – like cut out words and paste them to a paper and send it in,” this former-teacher mom said as she buckled her baby into her car. “They are going to post the pages on their “word-wall.”

“Wait – like what kind of words?” I asked as Sam ran away towards the car.

“I don’t know – like words about the environment – like grass or sky?” she answered.

This didn’t sound like preschool homework to me.

“Sam – do you have a “word-wall” in your class?” I asked peering back at him in the rearview mirror as we drove home.

“Ummmm…..can I have a snack?” he answered distractedly looking out the window.

“Listen to me!! Do you know what the environment is?” I demanded.

“I’m sexy and I know it….” he sang in response.

I turned off the radio in frustration. “Sam – do you know what smog is?” I looked back one more time as I pulled in to the driveway.

“MOOMM!!!  I don’t know what you are talking about!!” he yelled.  (He doesn’t respond well to questions right after school – I think it’s a “boy-thing.”)

By the time I got home I was very concerned with the fact that I would be handing in the preschool homework! late, and on top of it – I didn’t really know how to do it.

I had no choice.

I had to call the teacher.

“Hi Mrs. M….this is Lady goo goo gaga…..I just had to call you because….well – I don’t understand the homework.”

Silence.

She then explained that an “environmental sight word” is a word like TARGET – that Sam knows – only because its part of a logo – but it’s a first step towards reading.   He also knows Dunkin Donuts, Big Y, Starbucks, and Goldfish.

These are all words that we cut out and pasted to a piece of paper.

“Thank God – I called!” I said, “I was going to send in a picture of smog!”

This is the diagram I made with Sam when we got home but something just didn't seem right about this........

She laughed.

But is it really funny?

Is it really funny that I am failing the preschool homework?

Probably not.

Which is maybe why I felt it was time for me to accept another huge work assignment that will have me working in NYC a lot and basically abandoning my family for two weeks.

Oh -and Mr. Gaga has his follow-up colonoscopy next week – and yes my father will be bringing him….again.

It will all work out…….right???

Wish me luck.

PLEASE CLICK ON THE BANNER BELOW….I MIGHT NOT BE THE BRIGHTEST MOTHER IN AMERICA BUT I SURE AM THE FUNNIEST….XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,447 other followers

%d bloggers like this: