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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

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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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Eff the Presidents it’s my birthday!!


I mean is it really necessary to not have school or mail because about 800 years ago someone was born that later became president?

Am I trivializing this too much?

It seems a little dramatic.

Does the bank really have to be closed for this occasion?

I say we update things a bit…maybe reevaluate who has done some important stuff lately – and maybe shut down the entire world for their birthday?

Call me crazy – but I think some people have done some amazing things since the 1800′s.  Did the birthday committee lose steam or something? What about even Henry Ford or Thomas Edison, I think we would be in a bit of trouble without those two guys.

I would even be down with a Steve Jobs birthday day off or a “Guy who invented the DVR” birthday celebration… It just seems to me that we are overlooking a lot of birthdays.  I am just throwing that out there.

Anyhoo….while everyone is super excited to be celebrating someone’s birthday who would be 281 years old today, do you know who else’s birthday it is?

Mine!

Yes – Lady goo goo gaga is now 2!

You know how I despise people who announce that they are “blessed” in various inappropriate public forums?

Well….you heard it here first people.  I feel blessed to have people who tune in to read my words each week.  Two years is a long time to stick by me and listen to me complain and talk shit about motherhood, and I appreciate it.

I am going to take this opportunity to thank some people without which I would have no blog…because basically I would have no material.

First and foremost, thank you people at my bus stop.  You have all never failed for the past 7 years at doing your very best to be white trash assholes at the ungodly hours of the morning.  I especially want to thank the new addition, a dad who comes every morning and shaves his face on the sidewalk with a Norelco electric razor.  As if the mornings aren’t bad enough, why do I have to watch and LISTEN to your mangrooming?  How would you like it if I started doing my bikini wax at the bus stop? Oh by the way, you will be finding out as soon as the snow melts.

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 is how I will be waiting for the bus come the spring….except I will be ripping hot wax from my bikini line…how does that sound Norelco guy?

Secondly, thank you Catholic church.   You never cease to amaze me.  This past week I took Michael to get ashes on Ash Wednesday.  Your cult-like tendencies and bizarre rules, which for example, meant that I had to walk around with a big patch of dirt on my face all day never disappoint.   When the Pope looks around and says “I’m too old for this shit,” we might need to take a closer look.

I will NOT do one more Ash Wednesday...I am so fucking out of here.

I will NOT do one more Ash Wednesday…I am so fucking out of here.

Thirdly, I would like to thank Hollywood moms and wives.  I am so lucky to have a glimpse into the lives of celebrity via my “Stars their just like us,” page of my US Weekly magazine.  Without this, I would never have had the pleasure of being able to address some of my concerns to Kim Kardashian, and Alicia Silverstone, and warn Beyonce about the perils of having a baby.

Maybe for your next single, "Married Ladies" - you can say "If you like it - put a Nuva Ring in it"......

Maybe for your next single, “Married Ladies” – you can say “If you like it – put a Nuva Ring in it”……

Next, Mr. Gaga, where would I be without him? I am so lucky to always have his support and understanding when I disappear on Sunday nights to blog.  Even though I heard him once asking the person at the bank if they accept “LOL’s” as mortgage payment, I know that he secretly likes this little blog.

He understands me.  He understands that I am not the best house cleaner, and that sometimes I struggle with being a stay-at-home mom.  He knows that even when it seems like I have all day to accomplish things, I might get side-tracked and not get to my weekly moustache waxing, and he still loves me.

My day was boring, I volunteered at the school and then I was going to clean the whole house from top to bottom but I forgot I promised a friend to volunteer at a soup kitchen today......

My day was boring, I volunteered at the school and then I was going to clean the whole house from top to bottom but I forgot I promised a friend to volunteer at a soup kitchen today……

Also, he inspires me.  When you live with someone who repeatedly looks at you with a straight face and says “That’s not funny,” it makes you try a little harder. It makes you want to go that extra mile and call a small child a twat. Thank you Mr. Gaga.

I could never forget to thank Chuck E. Cheese, for being one of the absolute most vile and appalling environments where human beings congregate.  I have been so disturbed by this establishment that I have blogged three times with fresh material about this hell on earth.

Thank you State of Connecticut.  If I wasn’t continually tortured by snowstorms and hurricanes I wonder if I would be more pleasant.  I wonder if I didn’t have to continually have no power or plowed roads if I might not be so inclined to call the people at my bus stop douchebags or curse out the people at Pottery Barn.    I imagine a world where Lady Goo Goo Gaga is content and happy as one that would be quite boring and not blogworthy.

And finally, thank you mothers of today.

Thank you for being absurd, overprotective morons.

Thank you for making your kids’ sandwich in the shape of a daisy, thank you for not combing your child’s hair because it might hurt,  thank you for sitting home reading 50 Shades of Gray and considering it a good read, thank you for eating your own placenta and chewing your baby’s food for him and spitting it into his mouth, thank you for letting your son’s cry during the baseball game because they struck out, and thank you for tricking me into coming to your house for a playdate when I hate you and your child.  Without all of you, I would have nothing to say each week.

Keep it coming people….don’t let me down.

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO VOTED FOR ME OVER THE PAST COUPLE OF WEEKS AT THE CIRCLE OF MOMS WEBSITE!  I AM SURE MY THERAPIST WILL HELP ME GET OVER THE FACT THAT I WAS VOTED THE 89TH FUNNIEST MOM BLOG….

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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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.

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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

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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

Ode to Mr. Gaga


I am doing an extra post this week – in honor of Mr. Gaga in response to Mama Kat’s writing prompt. 

The writing prompt is as follows: Share something you’ve learned from your husband about parenting. What makes him good at what he does?

Needless to say after last week’s baseball debacle, I crucified Mr. Gaga.

“How could you put up with that shit?” I implored him as he looked through his mail and ignored me.

“You should bench them if they take shits…..That should be a rule. If you shit your pants….you’re benched.”

He shrugged.

“Heeelllooo???? Are you listening??? You are coaching these kids into little monsters!! Do you think Derek Jeter’s dad would put up with this?”

“They are just little kids and their own parents don’t care – so what can I do?”  he said tossing the mail onto the counter.

“Well – I would never put up with it.”

“Well – I have a lot more patience than you do,” he said on his way out the door to unnecessarily mow the lawn.

*I assume that it was unnecessary because “mowing the lawn” is Mr. Gaga’s go-to move to escape from me for at least an hour and create a situation where he “can’t hear me.”

Anyways – he’s right.  He’s more patient than me – by like ….a hundred gazillion percent.

While I can be found frantically chasing the kids around counting to three and threatening to beat them, he will get much better results by just calmly telling them what to do.

Of course this laid-back attitude can have some downsides, as in giving the kids donuts twice a day for snack when I am at work, starting 5 different LEGO projects and leaving the pieces all over the house, choosing to grab a Quizno’s sandwich for someone who clearly ordered an Italian combo, and so on.

But for the most part – he is a great Dad and husband, and not only has patience for the kids – but is incredibly patient with me.  Nothing I say or do really fazes him (although I think this is often as a result of blatantly ignoring me.)

I can be pretty bitchy – and he deflects like no other.  The other day I was in a little bit of a snippy mood while we were about to get ready for bed.

In case you need a visual – this is pretty much us. A week doesn’t go by when people don’t tell us that we are “Carrie and Doug.”  Although, I am not that skinny and Mr. Gaga is not that fat.

Mr. Gaga took off his shirt and was inspecting himself in the bathroom mirror.  Normally not very hairy – I have noticed in his old age – he has grown some more hair. It’s not much – but let’s just say this is what Mr. Gaga looked like when I met him:

And this is what he looks like now:

I plopped onto bed and picked up my US Weekly and started flipping through, and said casually, “You know – you will probably have to start doing some  “man-scaping” – because I didn’t sign up to be with a hairy man….”

Without missing a beat – he looked at me and said,

“Yeah – well…neither did I and how did that work out?”

What could I do but laugh hysterically?

The trick is – he doesn’t take life too seriously and  I definitely do.

His patience coupled with his ability to be calm and content – inevitably allows him to enjoy life.

Oh – how I wish I could do that. 

How great life would be with no worries.

Being content and stress-free is a quality that I continually strive for to no avail.

Last year – as I was running around the house trying to get ready for work one Saturday, I missed the bottom couple of steps and fell and snapped my ankle. 

I screamed and Mr. Gaga came running down the stairs to rescue me.

I just lay at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Mr. Gaga. I knew he would save me. (And this is what I wear to work…obvi.)

When he picked me up from the heap I was in and realized that I was fine,

he just looked at me and said, “Lady, you have to SLOW down.”

He’s right. 

I am trying.

Happy Father’s Day to Mr. Gaga and to my dad and to any adoring Dad fans that might be reading this….

Also – please click below to vote for this blog before you have to spend the rest of your weekend kissing your husband’s butt…..

XO,  Lady Goo Goo Gaga

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!!

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