RSS Feed

Monthly Archives: August 2012

Young Love

I brought Sam last week for his pre-K check-up.  A nurse came in and asked a few questions and then took him down the hall to weigh and measure him.  For some reason I remained in my chair staring blankly ahead, thinking it was just yesterday that I neurotically carried my baby down the hall to be weighed and measured, hovering over the nurses with my record book, jotting down every ounce and inch.  I would peer at the growth chart, thrilled to find that both of my children were both “off the charts” for height. 

But were they gaining enough weight?  Was their head too big? For a while there, Sam was 80 percent for height, 80 percent for weight and teetering dangerously…. and then completely fell “off the charts” for head size. 

It was bad enough he was in the 250th percentile for head size, but we were mostly sad that no hats would fit him….

Fast forward 5 years, Sam’s head is back in the “normal” range, I don’t even know where that little record book is, and the only way I know that my kids grow at all is if I have to go buy them new clothes.

I sat calmly waiting for their return.

“He’s 55 pounds!” the nurse said excitedly as Sam climbed onto the crinkly exam paper on the table.

“And he’s in the 90th percentile for height!”

Sam sat up tall, beaming with pride, wearing only underwear, with his tan little legs stretched out in front of him on the table.

The nurse promised the doctor would be in soon and left the room.

We sat in silence for a minute and Sam looked down at his legs.

He looked up at me stone-faced and sighed. “Well….I guess I am turning into a man.”

I laughed, “Why? Because you are growing?”

“Nope,” he said pointing to his legs, “it’s because of all this hair.”

I got up and peered at his legs and doubled over in laughter.  Although it was all bleached from the summer sun, the hair on his legs could potentially rival Mr. Gaga’s.

As kindergarten approaches, even the mere thought of Sam leaving on the bus gives me a lump in my throat.  At this announcement of manhood, my first instinct was throw myself on top of him and start weeping, but just then the doctor walked in.  I composed myself.

Even though in this particular instance, Sam’s just a hairy Italian boy, the fact remains that my boys are growing up before my eyes.

As the summer comes to an end, they seem so much older than they were just a few short months ago.  They have this habit of acting like teenagers now, often choosing to “hang out on the boardwalk” at our beach instead of staying with me.  Also, with this new maturity comes an interest in girls, (THEY ARE 5 and 6!)

The other day after they had been up on the boardwalk for a long time, I walked up to check on them.

“What are you guys doing?” I asked them and their friend, Adrian.

“We can’t tell you.” Michael answered quickly for the boys that were staring at me like deer in headlights.

“Why not?” I asked with my hands on my hips.

“It’s inna-poopiate,” Sam said in a hushed voice with his eyes wide open.

I turned my focus back to Michael, “Ok, then now you better tell me.”

“Mom, it’s just super-heroes,” Michael said with exasperation.


“And Sam and Adrian are Batman and Iron Man and they are pretending they are going to marry Storm and Poison Ivy,” he looked at me expectantly.

“Ok.” I answered waiting for more.

“But I am Green Lantern, and I am going to swoop in and save them from the weddings.” he said knowingly.

“Oh, because they don’t really want to get married?” I asked.

“Yes, the girls are making them.” he answered nodding his head.

“Ok, carry on then.” I said turning back to the beach.  It’s a bit early for a game about how to avoid a committed relationship, but at least they weren’t getting into any trouble.

I shrugged it off.

Then later in the week I left my notebook out on the table and Michael was doodling in it.

I found this:

Ok – maybe these boys might be a little girl crazy.

No worries though – I destroyed it just in case Mr. Gaga got any ideas……



Dear potential employer,

“Don’t even think of asking me what I did all day,” I warned Mr. Gaga the other day as we discussed the pending start of the school year which will leave me home without children from 8 AM until 3:30 PM everyday.

“I understand…..” he answered cautiously.

A few minutes later…..”But what will you do?”

After being tortured by my children for seven years I am finally going to be able to tackle little projects that I haven’t had time for, like taking care of my beard.

It’s a valid question.

I tried to envision myself with nothing to do.

After my morning coffee and maybe a quick run….things could get dicey.

I decide to peruse the old “Help Wanted” section.

This led to a panicked session of “resume revival” and let’s just say I had a hard time making myself sound qualified for most of the job postings I saw.

Let me know what you think:

Lady Goo Goo Gaga



  • To find someone to hire me so that I will not go insane at home, and possibly have some extra money for shoes.




  • Major: Communications
  • Minor: Finding a husband

Skills & Abilities:


  • Registered and transported 2 small children to hockey, tennis, basketball, baseball, swimming, soccer, hip-hop, track and field, many birthday parties and playdates
  • Responsible for all household management, including planning and preparing meals 3 times a day, making all pertinent appointments for household members, and telling members of the household when it is time to shut up and go to bed.
  • Present to-do lists to household partner and persistently “remind” him to do said projects.
  • Responsible for all laundering of clothing, bedding, and any other furniture or materials that might accidentally become covered in vomit, pee or poop.
  • Responsible for cleaning and wiping of all rectums and surrounding areas for a period of 7 years.
  • Filled and emptied dishwasher daily, and kept track of approximately 25-40 sippy cups and snack cups, and their corresponding lids



  • Learned to properly utilize vocal chords to the best of my ability while screaming at my children
  • Relayed religious knowledge to children as well as utilized proper religious education offerings
  • Able to maintain composure and not gouge out my own eyeballs when forced to speak and interact with insane women in various environments including but not limited to playgroups, Kindermusik, and bad playdates


  • Got the bus stop moved after a series of harassing phone calls to the bus company
  • Maintained sanity while surrounded by insane women or insane children for the majority of the past seven years
  • Curbed swearing in front of children to only favorite terms, and completely eliminated daily use of “cunt” and “motherfucker”

Interests and Hobbies

In my free time I try to work on losing the baby weight from my pregnancy 5 years ago, watching any of the “Real Housewives” franchises and taste-testing different types of wine.


LADY GOO GOO GAGA BLOG (  – 2011-present

  • Make people laugh at how absurd my life is on a weekly basis.


A story about a music class with no music…just scarves

August brings some of the best days of the summer.  Thankfully, my parents have a beach house – that we invite ourselves to and refuse to leave.  Nothing beats long beach days followed by refreshing summer cocktails on the deck, while blissfully ignoring my children.

But this year – even as I happily apply my suntan lotion or eat steamers on the deck, there’s something bothering me.  Way back in the foggiest corners of my mind, behind all of the wine and Skinnygirl….there’s a problem lurking and if I think of it I have to quickly pour more vodka into my cup, hug Sam.

He is leaving for full-day kindergarten in 3 weeks.

I have been waiting for this day for 7 years.

Yet, somehow, now that this day is fast-approaching, I am not so sure.

What will I do? I will miss him terribly.

Plus, you have to understand that Sam is very easily entertained and an extremely entertaining 5 year-old.

The other day I overheard him in the kitchen, eating breakfast with my mother while she read the morning paper.



“When I make my first communion, will you buy me a gold chain?”

“Probably, why?”

“Oh good, because I want one really bad.” he answered matter-of-factly, as though it was a perfectly logical request from a 5-year-old.

While other 5-year-olds dream of being showered with Legos and video games, my child dreams of the day he will get a gold chain.

When he very young I realized that he was a unique child.

I had become quite accustomed to running myself ragged trying to keep Michael entertained from about 5 AM to 9 PM most days, so I was prepared to do the same with Sam.  When Michael was in preschool I attempted to do the usual routine with Sam that I was used to, playgroups, running, swimming, library class, etc.but found that he was often too “tired,” to participate.

Also, unlike Michael, he was awfully interested in his appearance as early as age 2.  He takes great pride in his tan and has been known to “lay out”  while the other children are playing at the beach, and is often in the bathroom for long periods of time gazing at himself in the mirror or doing his hair.  As a small child he also became incredibly interested in his wardrobe.  He had very strict wardrobe guidelines that revolved around velour track suits and wife-beaters.

Between the attire, the sedentary lifestyle and the bizarre requests for pepperoni and gold, I began to feel like I was traveling around town with a miniature Tony Manero.

I sometimes would miss a playdate, because Sam wasted too much time on his hair….

He took an interest in music, so much so that age 2 – he heard a couple of Bruce Springsteen songs and became obsessed.  He demanded that he be “the Boss” for Halloween, refusing the expensive Lightening McQueen outfit that I had for him.

What 2-year old wants to be Bruce Springsteen for Halloween?

With this love for music in mind, I considered signing him up for the ever popular “Kindermusik” classes.

When other stay-at-home-moms had mentioned how much their babies loved these overpriced music classes, I dismissed the program as an expensive way to kill an hour and pretend you are raising the next Beethoven because you played a tambourine with him.

When I saw an ad for a free trial class, I thought it was worth checking out because after all, maybe Sam would in fact be the next Beethoven.

On a cold winter day, I was happy for an activity, so off we went.  We were greeted by a woman with long frizzy hair, a loose flowy skirt, a puffy shirt and lots of beaded jewelry.  We were instructed to leave our coat and shoes in the hallway, grab a silk scarf from a basket, and join the circle of moms and children.

While I was excited to have Janis Joplin as the music teacher, I wasn’t sure Sam would relate well to her….

When everyone was ready, the teacher played a cd and demonstrated how we should wave the scarves around in time to the music.

Sam stood holding the scarf limply, looking around the circle. He gazed up at me for guidance.   I did not want to play Janis’ scarf games but felt obligated.  I made small motions with my scarf and smiled.

“Come on Sammy, move your scarf like this.”

“I’m not doing that.” he said with disgust.

At one point he said he was tired and made a “scarf nest” and took a nap.

“Ok parents,” the teacher sang, “Be sure to do exactly what I do to set a good example for the children!”

I begrudgingly moved the scarf overhead and tried to lift Sam’s hand gently.

He threw the scarf on the floor.

I secretly was thankful, I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.  I took a quick glance around the room and saw mothers beaming with pride as they manically waved their scarves around with their little music prodigies.

Let’s be real people, these Kindermusikers are raking in the dough promising to have our kids become the next Justin Beiber Beethoven, by waving a filthy scarf around?

This ad led me and Sam to believe that their would be some sort of jingle bells, a hug and maybe some reading. I’m sorry there’s no mention here of waving a scarf around with a woman straight out of 1971…

Just as I got the scarf back in Sam’s hand, she switched motions.

“Ok everyone! Watch what I do and then you do it!”

She got down on her knees while waving the scarf back and forth to the beat of the music.

“Now watch me!!”

She made two loud barking noises and got down on all fours clutching the scarf in her hand.

“Now roll over like a good doggy!” she cried.

I am sure my jaw actually had dropped at this point, as I stared in horror while she rolled around on the floor waving her scarf in the air.

“What’s that guy doing Mom??” Sam asked a little too loudly.

I didn’t answer him, as I was trying my very best to not laugh.

“That guy is crazy!!” he squealed with laughter.

By the time the teacher had started her second doggy roll, I was contemplating if I should bother telling Sam that the teacher was a not a “guy” just a very butch “girl,” and also did I actually have to pretend I was a dog?

I noticed that Sam had left the circle and was approaching the door. I ran over to him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m getting my coat,” he said incredulously.  He was so wise beyond his years, he absolutely without a shadow of a doubt knew at the ripe age of 2, that it was time to go.

I beamed with pride like the Kindermusik moms.

“Good idea.”

I followed him out the door and we were off.

In 3 weeks, he will walk out the door and leave me behind.  My heart will be broken.

But as I always say now, when there’s any sort of traumatic event in the Gaga household……

This could be good material for my blog.


A small retraction and more tales from the beach….

As a rule, I never really take back anything that I say.

For example, if I say Mr. Gaga is being a jerk at Christmas-time, no matter what he says – I won’t retract.

If I talk about how fat children in America are, and you all email me and message me to say that your children are svelte and Olympian-like, I won’t retract.

Now I have been blessed with a free delivery of Lunch Box Love Notes, which I first noticed (and made fun of) in my Pottery Barn Kids Catalogue.

In case you missed it – these are notes that Pottery Barn sells that you can put into your child’s bento box filled with daisy shaped sandwiches lunch box  – to tell him how awesome he is.

The woman behind this madness was kind enough to contact me to say that she thought my post was funny and she sent me some complimentary notes.


I might possibly use this note if we were having a rough patch with schoolwork….

That’s actually cute and I have to say that I could totally see my boys reading and laughing at this note:

So – I while I will NOT RETRACT my original sentiments regarding the Pottery Barn Kids Catalogue…I will say …I just might end up using these little notes.  I was thinking if any other mothers were at lunch and saw my kids pulling out these little love notes….they will possibly think I am the best mother in the world!!  Wouldn’t that be perfect??

Well played Judi, inventor of Lunch Box Love notes….well played.

Because of you, my children might inadvertently think I love them during their lunch period.

Good work.

In other news – yesterday was one of those beach days that dreams are made of.  I felt my youth as I hopped on a jet-ski with one of my best friends from growing up at the beach.  We screamed and laughed so hard as we fell off over and over again doing power-slides.  When we made our way off the beach at 5 o’clock we headed up to the house to shower and get ready for the night.  We spent the night back on the beach eating, drinking, dancing with a reggae band and ignoring our children.

Today was a different day.

First of all I woke up and could barely get out of bed.  Apparently, when you are old and weathered, going on a jet-ski for an hour is bad for you.

I had some work to do in the morning and then met my kids on the beach.  From the minute I got there until when we left they whined, complained and cried.  This behavior goes against my “Beach Rules.”

It reminded me of a post from last summer – that I thought I would reblog.  Just in case you think my life is all about reading US Weekly and riding Jet-ski’s ……..think again:

Originally Posted on August 14, 2011 by Lady Googoogaga

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He burst into tears.

I peered at him over the top of my book.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At this point – Sam hopped out of the water.

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

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

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

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


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

The beach was silent.

A seagull flew by.

The crabs made their way back to sea.

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

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

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

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

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


Linking to Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop

%d bloggers like this: