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Am I a Clown? Here to Amuse You?

Sometimes when I blog, I feel as though I am putting my stuff out into the universe and the universe hears me…..

and laughs.

After posting last week about how the PTO at my children’s school can go shit in a hat, I was happy to be able to put the chapter of my life behind me where I help with school activities.

Monday morning I looked at my phone and realized that my new resolve to not help others would have to begin on Tuesday.  I had volunteered to help in Sam’s art class.  Helping in the classroom was definitely different than helping the PTO – but still…

Also – many times I have shown up to help teacher’s that supposedly need help desperately, and they actually don’t need help at all.  After I cut short my time to run errands or do something that I need to so that I can scramble to get to the school, I often find myself standing in the classroom with nothing to do.

I will help kids cut something out or erase something or various other art-related tasks that in the 1980’s we would have completed on our own.  In those days “mothers helping in the classroom” was not invented yet.  Not only did our moms not come to our classroom to help the professional people who were getting paid to teach their children, even when we got home they didn’t help us.

We actually did our work in school and out of school … OURSELVES!

Here, children in the 1980's complete their homework surrounded by TAB and second-hand smoke and zero parental involvement.

Here, children in the 1980’s complete their homework surrounded by TAB and second-hand smoke and zero parental involvement.

I digress.

Monday as I was helping a little boy draw a fish, the little girl next to him said to me in a hushed tone of voice,

“Do you know? I actually don’t think that the Boston Tea Party was a tea party?” she looked up from cutting her fish waiting for my reaction.

“Oh really?” I played along.

“It wasn’t a party…it was a war!” she whispered with wide eyes.

“A wart?!” another little boy interjected.

She continued cutting her fish and looked up calmly.

“Well I do have a wart on the bottom of my foot….it used to be white, but now it’s brown.” she said seriously and quickly changing the topic.

All the kids at the table squealed with laughter and even I chuckled a bit.  I reflected on my vow to never help again and thought it wasn’t sooo bad helping at the art class.

When I got home I was met with an email from a very nice mother that just happened to be a member of the PTO requesting my help at the upcoming school fair.

Because she is a very nice woman and she peppered me with lies such as “I know you work well with children,” I suddenly found myself clicking the link that would allow me to volunteer for this fucking nightmare.

I figured even though I cannot face paint and I don’t enjoy spending time with strange children, it would only be 30 minutes…how bad could it be.

This email is to remind you that you are signed up for the following slot on Fun Fair 2015″:

Wed, 05/20/2015 5:30PM – 6:30PM EDT 

— Face Painting Station

To view the SignUpGenius form, go to:

“Fuck!” I shrieked to Mr. Gaga when this confirmation email popped up.  “This dumb “Sign-up Genius” tricked me into being the school clown for one hour!”

Mr. Gaga laughed with the universe at my demise.

“So now I blog about how I hate helping the PTO and the next thing I know I am a full blown clown.” I sighed.

I had to accept my fate so I prepared mentally to entertain the children.

"What have I done to deserve this?" I asked Mr. Gaga one more time before I left for the fair.

“What have I done to deserve this?” I asked Mr. Gaga one more time before I left for the fair.

When Sam, Michael and I arrived at the fair- I headed to the face painting table assuming I would be met with brushes and easy picture ideas to choose from.

Instead I found this:


I was totally screwed.  I ripped open the package as an angry and bratty mob of children headed my way.

Sam and Michael, sensing a pending disaster, ran for their lives off to the dunk tank, leaving me in the dust.

“I’ll take that.” the first child said bossily pointing to the witch face on the package.

“Yeah  – no…I can’t do that.”

While she pondered what to get a little boy sat in the chair next to me.  “Can I please have a lizard?” he asked sweetly.

“Um…no,” I said with exasperation, “How about a rock? Just like a very small pebble?” I tried to convince him.

He stared back at me blankly.

“A lightning bolt?” I pleaded.  He agreed and I clumsily drew a jagged line down his cheek.

“Ok – I’ll take this,” the bossy girl was back and this time she was pointing to the vampire picture on the box.

“Fine…sit down.” I conceded and did my best to create bloody fangs on her face.

“Okay can you take my picture so I can see it?” she demanded when I finished.

I obeyed.

She stared at the picture serenely and ran away.

Next up, “Can I have a panda?”  a little girl said patiently waiting while I googled “How to draw a panda face.”

The torture never ended.

“I’ll take Batman…” “I’ll have a NY Giants Football”…..”I’ll have dog.”

The vampire girl then returned when I was about half-way through my shift.

“Did you get any better yet??” she demanded.

“Um…no why?” I answered.

“Well I want you to do it again – but better this time….I figured by now you would be better at this.”

“Well I haven’t attended a cinematic makeup school since you left….so no.” I answered shortly, while the line grew behind her. Still she made me give her a “touch-up.”

This is as good as it gets kid...hit the road and don't come back.

This is as good as it gets kid…hit the road and don’t come back.

Next up a mother wandered over with her son.  She gently nudged him into the chair.

“Go ahead Cayden tell her what you would like.” she said in a sing-song voice.

The boy stared at me silently.

“See the pin he’s wearing?” she said proudly.  I looked at his shirt and I saw that he was wearing a huge circle pinned to his shirt – it was clearly a laminated picture that he had drawn.

“That’s a cat that Cayden drew in art!” the mom said excitedly, “And he would like that exact picture on his cheek!”

What the hell?

Are you fucking kidding me?

I scribbled and smudged on his cheek, sweating bullets while the mother peered over my shoulder beaming with pride.

When I finished there was a huge black blob with ears and a tail on this kid’s cheek and I quickly sent him on his way.

“What time is it?” I asked one of the mothers, as the cat-pin mom had sent me over the edge.

“Oh, it’s 6:30.” a mother answered casually while she waited for me to get started on her child’s face.

“Oh – I have to leave – sorry.”

fizbo running

Sometimes it takes me a few tries before I learn….

The universe has spoken.

And I got the message loud and clear.



Why I am not on the PTO

Last year I found myself complaining about my childrens’ school.  We have 11 elementary schools in town – and I kept hearing about all of the great programs and activities offered at other schools.

One school offered a “tough mudder” for kids, another a school play, another exciting field trips funded entirely by the PTO.

“This is fucking bullshit,” I told Mr. Gaga as I put yet another $8 into an envelope so that Sam could go to a park down the road and look at the soil.

Once I inadvertently complained to a PTO member of our school.

“Well,” she answered, sweet as pie…

“You can’t complain if you don’t help..”

The truth of that theory stung a bit.

I guess I couldn’t just go around talking shit about our school and our PTO if I wasn’t bringing anything to the table.

When a friend suggested I help out with a town-wide initiative to get children to eat healthier foods at school, I thought it might be something I could help with.

The purpose of the group was to help with creating a school garden that could ultimately teach children about gardening and utilize the herbs and vegetables at the yearly farmer’s market at the schools.  Also someday – the goal would be to get the vegetables into the salad bars at schools.

Well I love food.…” I thought to myself….

“And I hate fat children….hmmm”

“I’ll help!” I answered enthusiastically to my friend.

I mean how hard could it be? I am very smart – I work well with others  I like helping children  I like children   I can follow basic instructions.

So suddenly before I knew it – I had approximately 5 meetings on my schedule.

Apparently I had to meet with various groups to discuss how to grow a garden and create a good farmer’s market for our school.

The legwork was already done -after sitting through several meetings where people talked in circles and offered unsolicited tales of their gardening experiences, I felt it was time for some action.

I quickly made a few calls.

I secured a local cub scout troop to help build the garden.  I chatted with a few parents that promised to help.  I called some farmers that agreed to help at the farmer’s market.

I asked for money from the town-wide group for a new garden and they enthusiastically agreed.  The school PTO agreed to give money as well.

It all took about 20 minutes total and a little networking.

When I emailed out my progress to the necessary contacts to get the ball rolling for the garden and market – I was met with radio silence.

“That’s nice that you’re helping …it’s just that …we wanted to have some more meetings.”

I know that you want to have another meeting.

But I have fucking shit to do.

I know that these “meetings” where we all politely sip a beverage and look at each other earnestly while the other person speaks seems very important…But guess what?

It’s not.

President Obama doesn’t have this many meetings.

Maybe in the olden times mothers needed to gather around to chat about what they were doing but we don’t need to do this any more to be effective.

There’s social media, email, texting and cellular phone service.

I actually don’t need to speak to anyone face to face to be effective.

But then if you don’t go to 50 meetings and talk in circles……

What will you do??!!!

Zumba and tennis combined only takes up 2 hours!

What will you do???!


I stone-cold single-handedly solved all the problems and we were ready to roll.

But nobody wanted my help!!

I sent several emails to my PTO contact for the farmer’s market and the teacher in charge of the gardens.

I kept checking for their excited replies.


I was almost stalking them.

Then I stopped.

Nobody noticed.

“Well fuck it,” I told a friend that I had enlisted to help.

“They don’t want our help I guess – and quite frankly I am very busy and I am not going to run around begging people to let me help them.”

She agreed.

I told another friend of my plight.

“You have to understand – these women have nothing to do and they want to feel very important and needed….by helping too much you are taking away their thunder.”

“Um – okay – well I am not familiar with people who don’t take help from others – because if it was up to me – I would never do anything again and I would just delegate everything to whatever idiot wanted to do it. I am unaccustomed to this type of creature that wants to do everything themselves.”

“Well – that’s why you don’t join the PTO,” she answered smartly.

Finally – the teacher responded and we had to schedule another MEETING to talk about the garden.

kristin wiig

Went to that meeting.

Got clearer sense of what we needed to do.

Relayed information regarding money and volunteers that I had ready in the wings.

Also – as I side note – we are talking about a VERY small plot of land that will be dedicated to a VERY small garden.

Students in China are finding a cure for cancer - but we are all dicking around trying to figure this out.....

Students in China are finding a cure for cancer – but we are all dicking around trying to figure THIS out…..

Is everyone aware that men and women across America are growing food and flowers by the acre with no problem?

These guys had one meeting this year - and it was just so they could agree to bring 2 hoes to this photo shoot.....

These guys had one meeting this year – and it was just so they could agree to bring 2 hoes to this photo shoot…..

After I spoke to the teacher and promised that I could get the funding and man power to create a garden that would suit the needs of our school…..


And now I have learned an important lesson.

I had to learn the hard way for sure.

Last weekend – at Michael’s baseball game – I was discussing this experience with a working mother who said I was insane to even entertain this idea of helping.

“Well it’s just that sometimes I feel guilty – and once a PTO mom said to me I can’t complain if I don’t help,” I explained rationally.

A very successful suave dad was listening, he interjected into our conversation.

“Of course you can complain!” he said indignantly, “You pay taxes in Goopville – don’t you?”

“Yes I do!” I answered excitedly to this very smart successful man.

“Then you have every right to complain – don’t let those women make you feel bad, they just have nothing else to do.”

My savior!!

He was right.

I am just not cut out for this PTO bullshit.

If I have to be honest….I don’t! really work well with children, I don’t! really work well with bored women, and I fucking hate gardening. I have a hard time finding time to keep up with manicures and pedicures as it is and I don’t need some school dirt patch ruining my nails.

And if children don’t have fresh vegetables at the salad bar then they can eat a fucking lunchable and a doughnut.

Why is this my problem?

It’s not any more.

Sorry Michelle Obama.

Better luck next time.

I am sorry you are fat and eating a lunchable - I tried to help.

I am sorry you are fat and eating a lunchable – I tried to help.

So in closing – if you are looking for me – I am the mom complaining loudly on the sidelines…..



Perfect Mother – The Mother’s Day Edition

I had a great idea for tonight’s blog post – I would offer all of you some mothering pearls of wisdom!  I decided to check in with my children to see what worldly and mothering tips I have given them over the years.

“So like what are some things that you will always remember me saying to you?” I asked hopefully over brunch to the kids.

“Oh I know…” Sam answered matter-of-factly as he ate his pancakes. “When our rooms are dirty you come upstairs and say ‘Clean up this beeping shit.’

I sipped my coffee calmly.  “No Sam – I don’t say that unless things are very bad.”

“Oh – you mean like when we come home from somewhere and you say ‘Did anyone touch your peep?” Michael asked.

“Well – yes I guess – but more like – have I taught you anything?” I asked biting into my eggs benedict.

They both ate their breakfasts silently.

Mr. Gaga apparently had tuned all of us out and was pretending he was somewhere else completely and ate in silence.

Maybe I am just a horrible mother that offers nothing except peep monitoring and yelling about dirty rooms…Oh my God am I a monster?


“Well when we complain about something you always say ‘There are people with no arms and legs.” Michael offered.

“Yes! That’s good!  I do say that and that’s good right?” I answered whole-heartedly – maybe there was hope after all.

“Well Michael – I am always helping you to do well at school and be smart….like what do I say to you that helps?

He shrugged blankly.

I stared at him – waiting patiently.

“Well you just say so much stuff and it’s like annoying- so I don’t really listen…” he answered.


Great- so I do offer pearls of wisdom – but nobody is listening to me!!!!  I knew it.

Sam started to notice that I was becoming depressed by this conversation.

“Mom – I know! You always tell me that I should eat my food because people have no food – and then you tell me not to eat junk because I will be fat.” he said eagerly.

“Ok – yes.” I answered with less enthusiasm.  That was not exactly a sparkling moment of genius.

“What about like what I tell you to be good at sports and life?” I asked with exasperation.

“Oh well – when you ask us if we won an activity – and we tell you that there were no winners – you tell us there’s ALWAYS a winner! And you tell us to always be the best!” Michael said with annoyance.

“Oh yes! That’s great advice!!” I answered – pleased with myself, finally.

“Well Mom, sometimes there’s no winner!” Michael answered back.

“If you think there’s not someone doing the best – you need to pay closer attention.” I persisted.

Is this the only meaningful thing that my children will learn from me????

Is this the only meaningful thing that my children will learn from me????

I gave up and when we got home from brunch I was changing my clothes and feeling sad about what a horrible mother I was.

“Do you think it’s bad that the kids don’t love me or think that I have taught them anything?” I asked Mr. Gaga as I threw on a t-shirt.

“Nope,” he answered robotically.

I got my things together and was heading out to my car.

“Okay – so while I go grocery shopping can you just make sure that you get Michael’s baseball clothes out of the laundry?  I threw all his clothes in at 6:30 AM to be sure they would be clean for his game – and also can you help him get his homework done?”

“Sure.” Mr. Gaga answered disinterestedly as he tinkered with the lawn mower.

I only asked him to do those things because it is in fact Mother’s Day and I thought that gave me the right to ask him to do stuff that I would normally do.  Also, as the luxurious brunch part of my day was over I was officially back on duty to go to the grocery store and clean, etc.

As I drove to the grocery store to buy food for dinner I was thinking about how I could change my parenting style.  I resolved to be more positive.  I should swear less.  I should be more comforting and supportive.

“I will be a good mother and my children will love me and appreciate me,” I thought as I wheeled my grocery cart into the store.

Just then my phone rang.  It was Mr. Gaga.  I had only been gone for twenty minutes – what could he possibly need from me?

“Yeah so – Michael didn’t finish his homework – he had a meltdown…And also he had his ‘eye-black stick’ in his pocket….”

Just so we are clear – the ‘eye-black stick’ is what men wear in baseball to prevent glare…seen here – and also seen on my 8 and 9 year old at their baseball games…you know…because of the “glare.”

LOS ANGELES, CA - APRIL 29:  Left fielder Bryce Harper #34 of the Washington Nationals runs off the field against the Los Angeles Dodgers on April 29, 2012 at Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles, California.  The Dodgers won 2-0.  (Photo by Stephen Dunn/Getty Images)

LOS ANGELES, CA – APRIL 29: Left fielder Bryce Harper #34 of the Washington Nationals runs off the field against the Los Angeles Dodgers on April 29, 2012 at Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles, California. The Dodgers won 2-0. (Photo by Stephen Dunn/Getty Images)

“Oookayyy….” i answered waiting to hear the end of his tale.

“And the eye-black was in the pocket of his baseball pants and then those pants went into the washer and then they went into the dryer….”


“and sooo….all the clothes are black and the washer and dryer have black in them……” he finished softly.


Well that whole ‘I’m not going to swear any more thing’ didn’t last long….

I mean – why do I even buy clothes??


Here’s one example of what I came home to….

Why do I spend every dime I have on clothes for children that are unappreciative?

And why should I not swear about this fucking bullshit?

And why should I feel bad when other mothers judge me for swearing?

It’s fucking mother’s day and I can swear if I want to.

And if you all think I am a bad mother and if Mr. Gaga thinks I am a bad mother – And my own flesh and blood children don’t appreciate me – well perhaps they haven’t noticed all of the wonderful things that I have done.

I have protected their peeps.

I have made sure they eat all of their food.

I have encouraged them to come in first place in everything that they do…

I think that’s pretty dang good mothering.

And if people don’t agree…





Sam becomes one with God and I put crosses everywhere….

Even though I don’t know a thing about Jesus, and am the worst living Catholic, I somehow gave birth to a Jesus-loving guido.  We aren’t quite sure if he was so excited about his first communion because he loves Jesus or because he wanted to try the communion or because he wanted a swig of wine from that filthy wine cup, or because he wanted a gold chain.  But either way way – Sam made his first communion today and it was a very long awaited accomplishment.

I have to bring my children to CCD once a week for years to get to this point.   And most recently I had to attend several meetings to be sure that I understood and could abide by the church rules.

When I went to those meetings, the woman in charge would ask us to recite prayers and hold hands with other parents while we said the “Our Father.”

Diverse Young Adults

But I plugged along.

I know that this religion stuff is an important piece of parenting as an Italian and Irish person.

But it’s a little bit much.

We had to go to a 2 hour retreat last weekend that was centered on making a “placemat” for the alter during communion.

We had to chose out of pages of religious symbols what we wanted to use – we had to cut out and color each symbol that we chose and paste it to a piece of construction paper.

Sam and I did a few and then we  I lost interest.

“Here Sam – do you want to add this magazine to the paper?” I asked quietly.

“Um, Mom – that’s called a BIBLE” Sam said with disgust…

“Oh – well it looks dangerously close to an US Weekly – and in about two seconds I am going to draw Bruce Jenner’s face on it – so just glue it to your paper,” I retorted.

“It actually looks like an US Weekly to me too…” Sam quickly agreed as he pasted it to the “placemat.”

I sat through the mass for his holy sacrament.  I listened to the priest speak of “eating a meal with Jesus,” and eating his body and blood.  I tried to stay serious and pretend that this was totally normal.

I even clapped during the songs and pretended to know the words while this lunatic belted out tunes about Jesus at the top of her lungs.

kristen chenoweth

Next on agenda was to make sure that his party was what it should be – which means many foods and delights in a cross formation at a party.

The antipasto course was a plate of cured meats and cheese in a cross formation…

Blasphemous - maybe. Delicious? YES!

Blasphemous – maybe.
Delicious? YES!

And then of course “Cross” cookies.


Oh yes – and I had the chinese nail artist paint rosary beads on my nails – just in case Jesus doesn’t believe that I am down with all of this.  This should send me to heaven….

rosary nails

Sam received two chains with crosses.  This is a major development in his life.  Tonight he went upstairs to get ready for bed and then came down with his entire face covered with blood.

“What happened?” I asked with horror.

“Well one of my teeth was little wiggly and I just pulled it right out – because my cross made me strong.” he explained.

This cross provides bionic powers....

This cross provides bionic powers….

At the end of the day – Sam is one with God.

He thinks that I am too.

And all is right with the world.



Teaching kids about Bruce Jenner

The Gaga household is a fairly open household.  I really don’t keep much to myself in general (your welcome  – blog enjoyers) and at home I am a pretty open book.  If I feel like talking to someone and only the kids are home  if I am watching something inappropriate with the children the kids ask me something randomly – I try to give an open and honest answer.

Mr. Gaga usually rolls his eyes at me or shakes his head when I say something he deems inappropriate.

But on Friday night when he rolled in and Sam said “Hi Dad – are you going to watch the show with us tonight about the guy that’s cutting off his peep?”  he was not amused.

“Really?” he glared at me as I making myself comfortable to watch the Bruce Jenner interview with Diane Sawyer.

“What?! They aren’t watching – but they asked!” I answered innocently.

Quite frankly I don't think I even understand what's happening -but I did my best to explain this....

Quite frankly I don’t think I even understand what’s happening -but I did my best to explain this….

“You don’t have to tell them everything,” Mr. Gaga sighed, “Let them be innocent – they don’t have to know about this.”

Okay, he’s probably right – but….

Before you start judging me for randomly telling my innocent children about Bruce Jenner – let’s back up a bit.

We watch the Today Show every morning before school.

Even if it’s for 10 minutes – we get a few headlines, we get the weather update and we might get a human interest story out of Carson Daly.

To me it seems like a normal morning program to put on for families.  They have a dog on set, they talk about the world, they sometimes have concerts on the plaza.

When we go into the city, my kids actually enjoy standing outside of the Today Show windows like tourists from Mississippi because the Today Show staff is part of our life.



Lately…probably for ratings – they can be a little bit much.

This week we experienced a new story every morning about a small child who wanted to be “transgender” and who’s parents were supportive of said child’s choice.

Oh did I mention that these children were sometimes 4?

Oh yes ….

According to the Today Show - this child was born a girl named Mia - but by age 4!!!! Her parents let her transition into a boy named Jacob.

According to the Today Show – this child was born a girl named Mia – but by age 4!!!! Her parents let her transition into a boy named Jacob.

Every day was new story of superstar parents that embraced and supported their confused children.  Each day included some sort of promo or reference to Bruce Jenner.

The first couple of days – my children barely ate breakfast because they were in complete shock.

"Sit down and eat!" I scream every morning since the transgender stories started.

“Sit down and eat!” I scream every morning since the transgender stories started.

The third morning – Sam was sleepily pouring his Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Matt Lauer came on teasing his interview with Kim Kardashian talking about Bruce Jenner’s transformation, and he said “Ugh, all anyone cares about is transgenders!”

“I mean – how will he become a girl anyways?” Sam asked at 7:15 AM on Thursday.

“Well, he will dress like a woman and wear makeup…..and ask a doctor to chop off his peep.” I answered matter-of-factly while I sipped my coffee.

Ok - maybe that was a bit much for our breakfast discussion....

Ok – maybe that was a bit much for our breakfast discussion….

But what are we supposed to say when the Today Show brings up such topics????

“Well maybe the Today Show isn’t for small children?” Mr. Gaga suggested when I pleaded my case.

“Well I watched the Today Show every morning for my whole life!” I exclaimed.

“Well that explains a lot.” he answered.

“What do you mean? It was Jane Pauly and Bryant Gumbel and we watched every morning before school, didn’t you?”

“No. We didn’t watch television before school.” he answered with judgement in his eyes.

“But if we don’t watch how will we know the weather?” I answered with exasperation.

“Well, when we woke up my Dad just told us what the weather was.” he answered smugly.

“Well how did he know? Was he a meteorologist?” I inquired.

“No – I guess he just looked out the window.” he shrugged.

Well that's just fucking stupid - your Dad doesn't know more than AL ROKER!!!!

Well that’s just fucking stupid – your Dad doesn’t know more than AL ROKER!!!!

“Well we can’t live like that!! We need to watch the weather in the morning!!!” I explained.

“How are we expected to know what to wear?”

Mr. Gaga did his famous shrug of dismissal.

Later the topic came up again. “Um Mom – when transgenders want to be a lady then they need boobs….” Sam said smartly, “So how do they get boobs?”

“Um – they take a medicine that helps to grow them,” I answered like a smart adult.

“Like – there’s boob pills?” he asked bursting into laughter.

“Yes,” I answered like a smart adult, “Boob pills.”

I mean at a certain point there’s no appropriate answer. Should we educate our children on the facts?

Apparently this is becoming mainstream stuff!

Mr. Gaga says no.

I say yes.

And today after this whole week of transgender focus was over with – Sam asked Mr. Gaga to have a catch.  At a certain point during the catch – it seemed like Sam was losing interest,

Mr. Gaga yelled across the yard – “Sam -if you don’t want to catch the ball any more – you can just go inside and color,” to be a smart Alec and and torture my child,

Sam also being a smart Alec retorted – “Oh well I like coloring rainbows.”

Mr. Gaga said, “You know you else likes coloring rainbows?”

“No – who?” Sam asked innocently while he threw the ball.

“Bruce Jenner.”  Mr. Gaga said as he caught the ball.





This week some things have come to fruition….

Here’s a quick rundown of stuff we have been waiting for:

1 – There is in fact a sun after all:

I have been wearing UGGS and a fur-hooded parka since October.

I have realized that when I decided to reside in the Northeast – I actually signed up inadvertently to live in a place that’s a mix between Alaska and Seattle.

It’s hard and disheartening.

My skin on my face looks like an old woman’s and my soul was almost permanently frozen in a cold hard tundra.

This is me watching my kid's play baseball in Connecticut last week....

This is me watching my kid’s play baseball in Connecticut last week….

Just when I resigned myself to wear boots every day for the rest of my life – the sun came out this week.

It was shocking.

It was delightful.


2 – Gwyenth Paltrow finally admits she is not a normal American Mom

I mean I am sure she means well.  I am sure that I would want to be her friend if she and her Apple and Moses showed up in Goopville.

But let’s get real.

She’s the inspiration for my town being named “Goopville,” because she’s full of FUCKING SHIT.

She decided to take a food challenge offered by Mario Batali (who I have met and is an amazing person – sidenote)

where she would survive on $29 a day (which is what the government offers to families in need in the US of A.)

After four days ………..

of this…….

She quit.

I somehow think that homeless people don’t buy huge bushels of cilantro…..

And maybe don’t buy fucking 25 limes you self-indulgent Mexican

spoiled Hollywood princess

bad mom

bad shopper.

Finally, though, after all of these endless Goop newsletters and conscious uncouplings – we can comfortably know that we don’t have to live up to this woman.

Now we know that if she was in the real world, she would fail.

Is there anything better than knowing that we are better at grocery shopping than Gwyenth Paltrow??


But for this week -we can feel a little smug.

Thanks Gwynnie.

3 – Kim Richards goes to the slammer

If you don’t watch the RHOBH then you won’t understand this.

But suffice it to say that there’s a woman in Beverly Hills who has was a child-star and has a pit-bull that bites everyone’s arms off – and is a menace to society.

She is an alcoholic lunatic.

Up until yesterday she has been living a life of freedom and she has finally been arrested and thrown in the slammer.


Does this look like someone that should not be locked up?

Thank you police officers of Beverly Hills, – it’s about fucking time that this menace to society is behind bars.

4 – Star Wars put out their dang trailer:

Apparently nerds across the land (including everyone that lives in my house except for me) put out the trailer for the movie that’s coming out on fucking CHRISTMAS of 2015!!!

I am sorry – but I am just thrilled to have a morsel of sunshine – I am not thinking about next DECEMBER!!

Well clearly Mr. Gaga has other plans.

He already informed me that him and the children will be going to see this movie next Christmas.

Duly noted, nerds.

5 – Full school Weeks

I just don’t know if I recall a child going to their instutional schooling facility for 5 straight days.

Between the vacations and the illnesses and the winter days –

This week – they will go to school every day…..

If my life depends upon it.

6 – I’m fat.

Ok – that’s not a new development – but I just am hoping that the weather has something to do with my girth.

I am in denial.

I foolishly thought in the still of the winter that I could just eat and drink with reckless abandon and nothing would happen…

I was wrong.


Mr. Gaga went for physical today in good old Connecticut and the doctor said he has never seen so many depressed and out of shape individuals.

This made me feel better.

When it’s below zero for many days in a row – the natural choice is to drink 50 wines and eat carb and cream-laden soups.

I’m glad I am not alone in this obese-land.

But suffice it so say that the snow has melted off of the grill and it’s time to think about a little grilled chicken and veg.

7. Sam will become one with God.

Sam has been waiting to make his first communion since he could say “gold chain.”

When I gave birth to him – he came out with a full tan and a leather jacket –

When you give birth to a child and the nurses bring a full guido to you in the hospital it’s alarming –

As he grew – he became more and more ……Italian.

It’s not normal to tell your 5-year-old to do something and to be met with a very bad attitude…

paulie walnuts

The day of his first holy communion has been a day he has been dreaming of for years, because he can become one with the lord, 

taste the holy wafer complete his look….

It will happen next week and everyone in the Gaga household will officially own a gold chain and all will be right with the world.

8. LADY GOO GOO GAGA will get 2000 likes:

I am humbly begging for Facebook likes.

I have been plugging away.

Entertaining you people for YEARS.

Can you please like me on Facebook? Can you tell your friends to like me???

I have 1930 LIKES.


I need 2000 at least.

Make it happen!!

I am begging.

I think 2000 is just a more respectable number than 1930.

Don’t you??


The “2000 like” will get a prize.



Why you will never sleep again…

When I was pregnant I remember being so uncomfortable towards the end that I couldn’t get a good night’s sleep.  I actually looked forward to having the baby, foolishly thinking, if nothing else, I will be able to sleep.

At this point in time you are a full moron - so you think that things can't get any worse....

At this point in time I was a complete moron – so I thought that things couldn’t get any worse….

After you have the baby – you then realize that the “no sleep” you experienced during pregnancy was actually a drop in the bucket.  With a newborn you learn what it feels like to exist on short snippets of sleep that are continuously interrupted.

You hope and pray that your baby will sleep for even 5 straight hours.

You say to yourself “I just want this baby to sleep through the night,” and one day he does.  Those 5 straight hours feel like a Bahamas vacation.  You think then, I have made it through.  Now I will start to be able to catch up on my sleep!!

What you fail to realize at that point is that sadly you will never really sleep again…and here’s why:

Developmental Milestones:

Well, nobody really mentioned this to me that I can recall.  All I know is that I had a baby that just barely slept through the night and the next thing I know he’s up being a total asshole all night, crying and drooling everywhere.

I was ill-prepared for the following 18 months that required me to pump my baby with various anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving medicines to get even close to a full night of sleep.

That’s correct – babies teethe for 2 solid years.  So put that in your hat and smoke it – new mothers.

After that whole fucking fiasco is over with – you will think you are in the clear.  After 2 years and 9 months of no sleeping – finally you will have a chance to rest.

Guess what it’s time for?

Potty Training:

I just could not wait to have my kids out of diapers.  Poor Michael was 18 months old when I had Sam so I tried to get him out of diapers sooner than he was probably ready for – just out of selfish monetary necessity.

While I might have saved some money in the Pampers aisle and thoroughly enjoyed lighting my diaper genie on fire once and for all…I had not anticipated what would happen at night.

Poor Michael peed the bed every night for what felt like 10 years (but was actually 1 year.)

I think if one were to want to commit some sort of medieval tortures they would let said person go to sleep – and then wake them by a crying toddler, and then force them to strip urine soaked sheets, change a urine soaked crying child, and then put a fresh, clean FITTED FUCKING SHEET on the mattress at 2 AM.

Nothing can prepare you for this.  At a certain point you will find other ways to deal with this….

The pediatrician told me that children (boys especially) have no control at night of their bladders and finally after many nights of stripping the bed and changing sheets in the middle of the night, we started buying Pull-ups.

We then let Michael wear a pull-up until he was about 10 just so we could sleep.

Night Terrors:

But alas – I made the irrational choice to have Sam when Michael was 18 months old – so I had to start the cycle of no sleep torture all over again.

Sam offered a special new feature to the “You will never sleep again” cycle.

Something apparently called “Night Terrors” which involve said child to sit straight up in his bed in the middle of the night usually starting right about when you are going to bed and screaming at the top of his lungs as though Freddy Krueger has come to kill him.

Sam would scream as though he was in a horror movie all night long from age 2 until quite recently (age 7.)  It’s a horror movie scream so it will wake you up from your sleep immediately.

You will think first “Am I being murdered?”

A quick assessment – and “No,”

“Is my child being murdered?”

A quick assessment- and “Maybe.”

You will run to the child’s room and he will be screaming as though he is being murdered – his eyes might even be open – but there’s no reasoning with this possessed being.

He will scream and convulse in his “night terror” until his “REM sleep cycle is over” – aka (ALL FUCKING NIGHT.)


After months and years of this – I found myself shaking him vigorously trying to wake him.  I would be in a sleep-deprived state – screaming “WAKE THE FUCK UP!!!” to no avail.

So – that was until he was about 6.

So… then I was about 8 years sleep deprived….no-biggie.


Night terrors are not to be confused with night MARES!

My kids (and maybe all kids these days) are fucking chicken shit – scaredy babies.

I have blogged about how I have lost many nights of valuable sleep due to the ANNABELLE MOVIE TRAILER.

That’s just one example…

There’s no end to the things that might frighten your child and keep him or her up all night long.  They will torture your life and make you get into bed with them.

You will say “No – go to bed.” several times – and then maybe the third time that they wake you up standing over you begging to get into your bed you will give in because your eyeballs and brain cannot keep up with these middle of the night requests.

This will result in elbows and knees in your face and stomach all night long – prohibiting your body from resting.  Your husband (who is a smart man) will leave at some point to seek rest and peace in one of the children’s beds….

Sometimes he will take a picture of his bed before he leaves:

Please note that I am being strangled by various arms and am face down with my neck at a precarious angle....

Please note that I am being strangled by various arms and am face down with my neck at a precarious angle….


Just when you think you are in the clear.

Maybe there is no good reason for your kids to be awake at 3 AM.  So you settle down for a long winter’s nap – and just when you think you might get a full night of sleep you will be met with a kid that is either coughing and gasping for air all night or barfing his brains out.

You will find yourself instead of sleeping in your bed peacefully – rinsing vomit-soaked sheets and rubbing your child’s back all night.

It’s a torture that nobody can prepare you for – you don’t even know how your body is moving but you will remove that dreaded fitted sheet – yet again – and you will remake the bed……again.

They simply don’t want to go to bed:

When everything is aligned perfectly and your children are feeling good, their teeth have come in, they don’t have a stomach bug and they have nothing to be scared of – they suddenly just don’t want to go to bed.

Mr. Gaga and I love going to bed more than anything.

We find ourselves at events, including a wedding this weekend -where all we do is dream of going to bed.

We think about the joy of coming home, kicking off our shoes, taking off of our spanx, and diving head-first into the luxurious pool of heaven that our bed offers.

Possibly every single night that we go to bed, we crawl in and we say aloud things like “Thank you Jesus!” as we pull our sheets and blankets onto our tired bodies, or sometimes “I love you bed!”

But not our children!

They don’t ever want to go to their beds.

Every night I chase them around for 30 minutes trying to get them to go to their beds.

When they finally are settled I will go downstairs.

Without fail – EVERY NIGHT!! they will go into each other’s room, wander to the bathroom or wander downstairs to tell me of some bizarre reason why they cannot go to bed.

EVERY NIGHT!! I will spend the next 30 minutes screaming shut the fuck up and go to fucking bed 

rubbing backs, applying band-aids, assuring them there is nothing to be afraid of, warning of missing the bus in the morning, etc. etc,.

When that doesn’t work – I will go upstairs and shut off every light I can find and threaten their lives…

Sometimes they will find secret lighting devices and I will have to confiscate those….

Finally they will go their beds when they have no other options.

This is a lengthy process…

You are old:

A few nights will come along – when you find that everything falls into place that you can go to bed and get a full night’s sleep.

Those are the night’s that you will find yourself staring up at the ceiling thinking about all that you have to do and all that you should be stressed about.

Your neck and back might hurt.

You might have an injury from your Zumba class.

You might have indigestion or heartburn.

You will have to get up to pee.

You won’t be able to sleep.

Because….well….you were supposed to be sleeping approximately ten years ago and now that ship has sailed….

Now your old… and you have restless leg syndrome.

You will sabotage yourself:

Even still – you might find yourself with your partner planning a night that you will purposely go to bed late.

Your kids are older now and maybe they sleep a little better – so why not stay up and have some fun?

You will have a night of drinking alcohol, or going out on a date, or watching reality television.

You will continue to do this – despite the fact that it will take a full week to recover from such a wild night.

You will regret it the following morning – but you will do it again anyways.

Thank God I have Mr. Gaga to be the voice of reason – most times that I suggest such an evening:

photo (1)

When all is said and done – we are destined to be tired for awhile.

I am hoping when we retire after the kids go to college and get married we can catch some zzz’s – but that might be unrealistic.

As usual….consider yourself warned people.




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