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Monthly Archives: November 2012

Christmas Tree Take 2

So this December I am thankfully not working as much as I was last year at this time.

I am working enough that it is still difficult to squeeze in all the holiday cheer.  I am taking the kids to see Santa tonight and they are going on the North Pole Express Friday night.

Saturday I am working – so I thought I would give Mr. Gaga another chance to get a Christmas tree without me.

Last year we almost filed for divorce around this time – so it’s serious.

He has strict instructions to:

1- Take children to Christmas tree farm

2 – Pick out a Christmas tree

3 – Tie tree to vehicle

4 – Get back into the vehicle and return home

Do you think he can do it???

Let’s revisit what happened last year………..


(reposted from 12/2011)

So because I have been working more than usual and can barely get my chores done, when Christmas decorating, baking, cards, shopping, wrapping, etc is added to the mix ……forget it.

I have thrown my hands up in the air – and started to delegate a lot to Mr. Gaga.

Also – I have had to let some things go.

Some activities I simply cannot do.

The parent volunteer sign-up sheet for my preschooler’s class went right in the garbage – along with the order forms and catalogues for the pie and wrapping paper fundraiser. (sorry PTO – maybe next year ….but let’s be honest….probably not)

Traditionally, we go cut down our tree the same day as my parents, cousins, aunts and uncles, brother, etc.

We spend the day at the farm tailgating.

This is Mr. Gaga at the Christmas tree tailgate party, contemplating which tree to get.....

This is Mr. Gaga at the Christmas tree tailgate party, contemplating which tree to get…..

Let me be clear in case you find this an odd tradition – my husband would tailgate at funerals if they let him.   Any excuse to start an open fire and stand around it for hours on end talking, drinking and eating…..

This year – I just couldn’t find a day that worked – so I gave up and told Mr. Gaga to go without me last Saturday morning.  I told him to go early and come home in the afternoon, that way he could put the tree up – and start dinner.  I would get home around 7, we could eat dinner and then trim the tree as a family.

Mind you – this was at the end of a long 50 hour work week for me and Sunday would be the start of another one – so we really only had this small window of time to decorate the tree and have some family time.

Do you know when I got home at 7:15 PM…… hungry and tired, looking forward to dinner and a glass of wine and Christmas cheer……..

Mr. Gaga and my tree were NOT HOME YET.

Do you understand what I am telling you?

Not only was the tree not UP WITH LIGHTS ON IT…..

…….it was not FUCKING HOME.

Do you know at the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life” when George Bailey comes home and wants to kill everyone – and he kicks all the presents and says “Janie will you stop playing that lousy piano?” and then he goes up the stairs and wants to throw the piece of the banister on the floor…..that was me.

I wanted to kick everything and murder my husband.

I trudged into the cold, dark house.

I turned on the lights.

The chicken I had put out that morning to defrost (that should now have been in a fajita) was on the counter sitting limply in a defrosted pile.

The morning coffee cups and breakfast dishes were on the counter.

The morning newspaper was strewn about.

The sink was filled with dirty dishes and……

wait for it……

the dishwasher needed to be emptied.

I went ballistic.

Instead of calling and yelling at Mr. Welch – I called Mr. Gaga and told him he was a motherfucker…..then I went out into town looking for a bridge to jump from……

I slammed all the pots and pans and started making dinner.
I swore out loud for twenty minutes calling my husband every bad name I could think of.
And then I did what George Bailey would do in my position.
I cried.
When my husband came home Sam was asleep already – which further sent me into a tirade.
I informed Mr. Gaga – that because he chose to stand around looking at a fire pit and eating sausage and peppers for 14 hours – now Christmas was destroyed.
Poor Michael still had hope – so after I cooked and ate dinner by myself – because NOBODY WAS HUNGRY BECAUSE THEIR FATHER GAVE THEM HOT DOGS ALL DAY…..
I tried to put the lights up with Mr. Gaga while not speaking to him and simultaneously sending him hateful vibes through the pine needles.

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?

Michael waited patiently to hang the ornaments, snuggled on the couch in his PJ’s.  When we finally finished putting up the lights, and were ready to hang ornaments, I looked over at him and he was fast asleep.
This broke my heart.  I reminded Mr. Gaga once more that the kids will never be 4 1/2 and 6 again – and they couldn’t decorate the tree this year because of him and that he single-handedly destroyed Christmas for all of us.
I finished decorating the tree by myself until midnight…..crying.
Is this just a horrible Christmas tale or what?
This seems to always happen to me!
I am so frantically trying to create happy memories for myself and my kids every year, and every year it ends in disaster.
I am determined to have Christmas cheer!!!!
I am Clark Griswold.
“You’re doing too much – just stay home and empty the dishwasher and decorate the tree. Nobody’s husband is doing everything with the kids, cooking chicken, and emptying the dishwasher….forget it.” my BF lectured me.
“So you are saying this is all my fault for going to work?” I yelled.
“No – I am saying that you have created chaos by working all these hours – so just don’t get mad when nothing gets done.  It’s just not going to get done until you get home and do it yourself.”
What a horrible answer.
Sadly – she’s probably right.
All I know is that I can’t do it all alone – and I especially can’t do it all alone at Christmas-time.
I think Mr. Gaga got the message. He has been helping much more and I eventually started speaking to him on Tuesday…….
Tis the Season!!!!
Please click on the banner below to give me a vote for funniest mom in America:) Thanks!! XOXOXO LADY GOO GOO GAGA

A Run, a Casserole and some other dramatics….

A couple of years ago when we signed up Michael for a running program, we quickly realized that our 3-year-old would likely become the next Michael Johnson.

At the end of this program when he was participating in the local 5k road race, we realized as we walked towards the starting line-up that one of us would have to actually run with the kid.

We couldn’t very well let a small child run through the streets by himself.

We stared at each other with our cigarettes hanging out of our mouths and like any intelligent, forward-thinking adults, we played “Rock, paper, scissors” to see who would run with him.

I lost and I could barely jog a mile.  After that – I realized that we needed to put out the cigarettes and at least be able to run a mile for god sakes.

The following Thanksgiving I ran the Manchester Road Race which is 4.7 miles in 49 minutes.   I had come a long way.  This race is very fun, but it is a huge endeavor with 15,000 runners and 35000 spectators!!

Last year, I just didn’t feel like the headache of all of that.  I couldn’t deal with the waking up at 6:30 am and finding somewhere to park, standing in the freezing cold waiting to start and then after the race, heading back to your car and sitting in traffic for hours.

I decided to just do a 5k on my own in my neighborhood, so I could feel good about exercising but not waste too much time.  I casually mentioned this to a few people and it snowballed.

This was the group of 43 runners at my house at 9 am this Thanksgiving.

I had to organize maps, and registration forms and serve bagels, fruits and snacks, drinks and coffee for everyone, as well as be sure to have medals and trophies ready….

Mr. Gaga’s sister helped me tremendously with all of the little crafty details. The night before we realized we had nothing to give the runners-up or the children that were participating.  She ran to the store and created the most amazing gold medals ever!!!!  Pin that you Pinteresters…..

From what I understand in my extremely Jewish neighborhood – these chocolates wrapped in gold foil are called “Gelt.” But in my household we call it “5K bling.”

I gave strict instructions to my sister-in-law and Mr. Gaga about registration, times, waivers, playing Rocky music and Chariots of Fire….etc. and it was a great success!!

By 11 am I had to wrap it up and completely switch gears.  I had to be ready for 26 people to arrive at 12:30 for Thanksgiving dinner.

So as soon as I got inside I started running around like a maniac, throwing kids into showers, basting turkeys, lighting candles, etc.

I am capable of getting a lot done, but two things have to happen in order for me to do what needs to be done.

#1 – I need to delegate.

#2  – I need to yell at everyone.

There’s usually a lot of dramatics leading up to any big event.

I am not being mean, I just yell.  I am dramatic. This is how I grew up.

We raise our voices.

We swear.

My brother and I would walk into my house and call “MA!!” as loud as we could until she answered. We all yell at each other all the time and think nothing of it.

My in-laws aren’t like this.  They are very even-keeled and quiet people.  There’s no yelling.  There’s actually no voice inflection at all.  They don’t rush. They don’t show emotion.  To give you an idea, while I was running around like a maniac my father-in-law actually sat at the kitchen table playing some sort of “Vegas slots” game on the Ipad.

I just continued doing what I had to do, yelling at the kids to get dressed, and yelling at Mr. Gaga to get in the shower.

Then I yelled at my Dad because he forgot the gravy boats that I told him I wanted to borrow, and then he yelled back at me “You know what….your mother was saying something about that, but I wasn’t listening…. I have too much going on to find goddamned gravy boats…I’ll just go buy some %&#$ing gravy boats if you need them so badly.”  (See –  this is how we talk.)

Where are the $#%ing gravy boats you   mother$%#ers????

Then later I took a minute to take a picture of the kids for Thanksgiving to capture all of the love and thankfulness and they wouldn’t sit still. Obviously, in order to get a good picture of this important day, I told them I would “beat them senseless and lock them in their room for the rest of the day if they didn’t smile.”

Apparently that was the last straw.  When I looked at my in-laws, they were aghast.

“Why don’t you have some wine?” my sister-in-law suggested with horror.

“What? How else do you get children to sit still and smile??” I asked.

My in-laws think that I should just host 43 people in the morning and 26 people for dinner and not raise my voice once??

Ok, I think I can just pour the gravy straight from my pockets and that should work, Mr. Gaga. Oh and have I told you how handsome you are today, Mr. Gaga?? And how much I enjoy watching your father play on his Ipad while I make 45 turkeys? I am so thankful.

SIDENOTE: I have to give them props because even though they are horrified by me and think I am crazy, they were extremely helpful with cleaning, setting up, entertaining the children all while searching for the best “Black Friday” deals on their ipads.

Everyone was responsible for bringing a side or a dessert which was life-saving.

Last year – I had leftovers at my aunt’s house and tasted the most amazing green bean casserole in the world, so I hunted her down for the recipe and asked my cousin Emily to make it this year.

Now let me be clear on a few things.  Just so you can know how important it is for you all to make this recipe next year.

A – Growing up we never had green bean casserole.

B – I think all casseroles are vile and disgusting as a rule.

C – I don’t really like green beans all that much.

D – I think green bean casserole actually looks utterly repulsive.


I don’t know what genius came up with this but they deserve an award…

Oh hello, heaven in a dish…..

This dish is AMAZING.

It is made WITHOUT cans of weird condensed “soups.”




So imagine what happened when my phone rang at 11:45 from my aunt (WHO LIVES ONE HOUR AWAY) saying that “Emily is missing and she didn’t make the green bean casserole, but send us the recipe and we will try to make it.” (Did I mention arrival time was 12:30?)

“Um…I don’t think you will have time to make it….and where is she?” I answered.

“We don’t know…she’s not answering her phone, she went out last night and now she’s not communicating with us.  There’s a guy that she’s been hanging out with and maybe that’s why…we are just so upset…..” my aunt said, almost in tears, “Maybe she ran away with him….I just don’t know.”

Meanwhile, smoke was coming out of my ears.

“Oh yes – it’s just so sad that your daughter drank too much last night and is sleeping it off somewhere and won’t answer her phone….but more importantly WHO IS MAKING THE GODDAMNED GREEN BEAN CASSEROLE????”

“I am hosting 70 people today, and these $#@ers can’t even cook one @#@%$ing $##@ing casserole one day a year??!! THEY ARE DISINVITED FROM NOW ON!! THANKSGIVING IS RUINED!!!” I screamed to anyone who came through the kitchen as I chopped and cleaned and organized with my dreams of a glorious green bean casserole up in smoke.

At one point my calm, cool and collected sister-in-law said quietly, “Is there anything I can do?” and I stared at her and said “No- I just have to send death threats to my cousin and pour water in the water glasses,” and she didn’t even bat an eyelash.

I sent this:

It worked.

Thank God – they all arrived with tons of green bean casserole!!

At 2 PM.

There was no new boyfriend or scheme to elope….Emily’s car and phone had died simultaneously…so she was running late.

 We hugged and laughed when they arrived.

All was well.

Dramatics run in the family.



Raising Justin Beiber

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

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

But this was the kicker.

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

Apparently his magical charms work on small children too.

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

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

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

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

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

“No why?”

“Because I love photo-shoots.”


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

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

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

Oh. …..not what I was expecting.

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


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

“Shoot.” Mr Gaga said with disinterest.

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

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

He was devastated.

Back to concentrating on kindergarten.

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

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

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


And then….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Gaga shrugged as we got into the car.

As we buckled in, I looked at him.

“I want a new video camera for Christmas.”


Unwanted Hair and House guests

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know?” I demanded.

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

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

They both shrugged and looked out the window.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First I soaked him with Lysol…..

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

I had to quickly and discreetly release him…..

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

Thank goodness the frog leaves tomorrow.

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



What I Learned…..and Ate (Storm Sandy Edition)

So after Mr. Gaga stacked the wood in a neat pile that he claimed would blow in a direction away from the house, we waited for Storm Sandy.

First thing we did Monday morning is eat a big breakfast, so we had sustenance to last through the next few days of cold, wet powerless torture.  I made pumpkin bread and eggs and sausage.

I took out meat to make burgers thinking that we could use the grill to make dinner since we wouldn’t be able to use the stove.   I had extra so we made a bunch of meatballs.  By lunch we still had power so we had delicious meatball grinders. (That’s what Connecticut people call heroes or subs.)

I told the kids to watch all the television they could stand because it could be weeks before they would watch T.V. again.

Then Mr. Gaga and I milled around the house looking out the window and waiting.  Nothing really ever happened by us, except for some wind and rain. At one point, Helen Hunt Mr. Gaga was looking out the window and said “Ooohh, there goes that tree branch.”

To distract ourselves, we snacked on Kettle Salt and Black Pepper chips which are the best chips you will ever eat, by the way, and stared incessantly at the news broadcasts.

By dinner-time there was still power and it was raining too hard to grill, so Mr. Gaga decided to steam the burgers with a technique he learned on Man vs. Food.   I don’t really know what he did but it was definitely one of the best burgers I have ever had in my life.

By Tuesday morning we had not lost power and we were in the clear.  The kids’ school had no power though so they were home until Thursday morning.  During that time we were lucky enough to enjoy Halloween, as last year it had been cancelled in our town.

We had friends showering and eating lunch during the day, that had lost power.  I made my amazing Stromboli breads and tuna sandwiches with my secret recipe of tuna with capers.  That night my brother brought over a vat of Paella soup that was the bomb which we ate with tons of bread and cheese and Reese’s peanut butter cups.

Thursday, my in-laws arrived from New York to move in with me due to their lack of power.  I cooked a huge pasta dinner and the next day we went out to lunch and ate amazing Lobster Grilled Cheese sandwiches from a local restaurant.  If you don’t believe me about their buttery deliciousness, just know that Oprah once sent Gayle across the country tasting sandwiches and this was one of her top picks!!

All of the food was washed down with heavy doses of wine and

Oh hello, I love you.

The gluttony continued right through today.

It is totally out of control.

This morning when Mr. Gaga came across my thong in the bed, he suggested we start laying off the Halloween candy.

But I cannot complain.

We have power and food and cars and gas.  I have been trying to keep things in perspective.  Ok – so I am fatter than ever and I have been cooking and cleaning and entertaining for a week straight.

Who cares?

In an effort to keep my negative thoughts to a minimum I aim to become very zen.

When “Whiney” showed up to the bus stop on Thursday with his usual Amy Winehouse hair and the shortest high water sweatpants I ever seen in my life I was so disgusted.

The old me would have thought, “Really? Whiney’s Mom, you had three days at home, you couldn’t pull out a pair of pants that fit and slap some water or gel on this kid’s head?  There are real people who would love to have access to a hair brush and water, and who are really wearing pants like that because there is a real flood, not just because they are a lazy asshole that doesn’t help their child get dressed for school.”

But I didn’t think any of that. I thought “I am so lucky to be able to walk to this bus stop on dry streets with my family, and who cares if I weigh 250 pounds overate a little bit, and I have to spend every morning with Whiney and his mother…..Life is good.

Normally, when 8-year-old boys arrive at the bus stop looking like this I get infuriated….but not this week. This picture might slightly exaggerate how short his pants are but the hair is almost an exact match.

And when you spend hours and days on end with people in your house, things start to wear on you.  Normally when the people who live in the Gaga household chew with their mouth open like barbarians, or breathe loudly through their nose, I want to murder them.  I can usually stare at the offender enough that he will get the message from my silent angry eyeballs, so I don’t have to say anything at all.

This week when the loud chewing and nose breathing was enough to send me to the mental institution.  I didn’t say anything and I even tried to limit my angry eyeballs.  Of course, don’t forget that I live with 3 boys, so the offenses are endless.  The filthy socks and hats thrown about, the pee misfires dripping off of toilet seats, the yelling and wrestling, etc. are a lot to take when everyone is stuck home for days on end.

I am really only here for like a day….I just needed a break from the bad table manners, nose whistling, and farts….

I realize that all of this is trivial and stupid.  I even felt that blogging about my life that’s filled with blessings and power and water, is almost disrespectful and ridiculous.

So I am trying to be better.  I am trying to be more positive and less hostile and unforgiving to nose-breathers and high-water pants wearers.

Not to worry – I am sure I will fail at this after a few weeks.

I really doubt I will be able to completely rid myself of all negative thoughts and ideas….

But if I succeed, this blog will be filled with love and peace and good will…..

So let’s hope I fail……

because who the hell wants to read about that shit??



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