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How to get a Baseball Scholarship without really trying…


Baseball season is upon us.

Even though it snowed in Connecticut yesterday – the baseball season will start in a couple of weeks and life as we know will be turned upside down.

Parents in Goopville will be beside themselves attempting to make sure that their child, whether he is 5 or 12 is making progress towards the majors.

That is the major focus of baseball for children today.

It is not for them to get exercise or to have fun.

It is to get a scholarship and get drafted.

The parents will tell you otherwise while they get “private baseball tutors” and buy hours in the batting cage.

Don’t get it twisted.

They are all shooting to have the next Derek Jeter.

You baseball moms are lying if you say you don't want to be this mom some day....

You baseball moms are lying if you say you don’t want to be this mom some day….

Mr. Gaga was one of the magic children that actually got a full ride to a Division 1 school for baseball.   He grew up in Queens with parents that were working class people.  In highschool he was throwing a 90 mph ball and he could start at every single position on the field with ease.  He lived in Long Island and he was the leader in hitting of all of Long Island.  He played at Shea Stadium,Yankee Stadium and Fenway.

His parents didn’t pay for a class or a book or a french fry for four solid years of college at an esteemed college in NY.

He got drafted.

This is an interview with his mother on how she got it done…..Please understand that she grew up in Queens and has a thick New York accent.  She was recently horrified when I told her that she spoke just like the Long Island medium, because apparently she doesn’t know that she has an accent.  I picture her during this interview drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette outside on her porch.

LGGG – “So, I am so excited to speak with you for your mothers to learn about the best practices for young children to succeed in baseball… I have had my kids playing baseball since they were five, what age was Mr. Gaga when he started?”

MIL Gaga “He was 12”

LGGG – “How many camps did you put Mr. Gaga in when he was young?”

MIL Gaga “None. When he was on his highschool team there were maybe 5 mandatory camps that he had to participate in so we would pay for those – but that was it, we didn’t have money for fancy camps or trainers.”

LGGG – “So how did he learn how to play baseball?”

MIL Gaga “Well he watched the METS games on television and he would study what they did and then practice their moves. Whatever they did – he would practice.  You know how first basemen will sometimes do spilts (I don’t know what she’s talking about)

LGGG – “yes”

MIL Gaga – ” So he would go outside by himself and practice doing splits.”

Apparently this is what she's talking about....

Apparently this is what she’s talking about….

LGGG – “But how long is a baseball game on television?”

MIL Gaga – “Maybe an hour and a half..”

LGGG – “Today – we are only allowed to let our kids watch T.V. for like 20 minutes a day.”

MIL Gaga – “Oh no -he would watch baseball all day long. I didn’t mind. We lived in a neighborhood where all the kids went to sleep-away camp all summer so he was alone.  He watched baseball all day and then went outside and practiced the moves that he saw them doing.”

LGGG – “Wait – he played alone all summer?”

MIL Gaga – “Oh yeah – he would throw the baseball at the front stoop for hours by himself.”

LGGG – “I thought this interview would be funny but now I am devastated. If my kid played alone all summer I would be beside myself.”

MIL Gaga – “Well – what could I do?”

LGGG – “So did you get him lots of fancy gear? Like did he have the best cleats and gloves?”

MIL Gaga – “No – because the kids that had the best gear and wore like wrist band and head bands were always huge douches – and Mr. Gaga never wanted to be a douche.  Mr. Gaga never had the best cleats or gloves because we couldn’t afford it.  Mr. Gaga wore the same cleats for football and baseball.  There was one coach who’s kid always had the best gear and he didn’t want Mr. Gaga on his team because he didn’t know if he was good -and then Mr. Gaga annihilated this kid while wearing football cleats.”

LGGG – “So did you ever have a problem with coaches – like did you try to get him on the best teams with the best coaches?”

MIL Gaga – “Oh no – it was like school where the teacher was always right.  I would never call the league and request a team or a coach.  I would tell Mr. Gaga – ‘If you get a douche coach then you have to deal with it’ – it was a good lesson for life….In fact one of his coaches was a pedophile.”

LGGG “Oh my God – did you know then?”

MIL Gaga -“No we read about it later in the Daily News – but Mr. Gaga said he was weird….”

LGGG – “So did you actively pursue a college scholarship? Did you think about it when he was playing?”

MIL Gaga – “No – he played baseball to keep busy – and I truly never thought of a scholarship until we knew for sure that he was good.”

LGGG – “Really? Parents today in Goopville are thinking of scholarships when the kids are like seven years old.”

MIL Gaga – “Then they are stupid.”

LGGG – “Did you at least really think about his health and strength and try to feed him with what he needed to be a successful athlete?”

MIL Gaga – “Ha – what do you mean like giving him carbs? We didn’t know about carbs back then…”

LGGG – “No more like did you give him fresh fruit and vegetables?”

MIL Gaga – “I probably went to the can-can sale at Shoprite – We always had a meat and vegetable, but it wasn’t fresh and it wasn’t organic…Just so you know the players coming up now from the Dominican Republic eat rice and beans all day…it doesn’t matter.”

“LGGG- “Did you let him drink sports drinks like Gatorade?”

MIL Gaga – “Oh yeah – he could drink whatever he wanted – I would let him drink Hawaiian Punch all day long by the gallon if he wanted to.”

Poor Mr. Gaga - this could have ended very badly!!

Poor Mr. Gaga – this could have ended very badly!!

LGGG – “Did you do anything in the off season to keep him in shape?”

MIL Gaga “No – he just played outside.  He would throw the ball and try different pitches… Every now and then his father would yell out to him to stop throwing curve balls.  He would yell outside “Stop with the curves man! You’ll blow out your arm!”  That was good that he knew enough to tell him that….but that was all we did.

LGGG – “Well do you have any advice for today’s parents?”

MIL Gaga “Well, my son didn’t have the best cleats and I never gave him the best food….You have to have a real love for the game and you have to practice…that’s it.”

What perfect advice.

Spoken by a true expert.

Let’s all keep these pearls of wisdom in mind this season!!

ball

PLAY BALL!!! CLICK ON THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME FOR THE BEST BASEBALL MOM IN AMERICA!! 

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Sleep and those little slices of death….


Awhile back I started noticing that Mr. Gaga and i had stopped bouncing out of bed in the morning.

We kind of sit up slowly, then swing our legs to get our feet touching the floor.  Then there’s the heaving the body up and out of the bed, and that’s when we notice the stiff neck, the tight back, sometimes stiff legs.

As a chronic hypocondriac I have been known to pepper Mr. Gaga with medical questions quite regularly.  Lately, I found myself pointing to something on my neck or back and asking if he thought it was normal for it to hurt on the daily.

“I think we need a new bed.” I finally said a few weeks ago.

“We aren’t that old, we shouldn’t be this rickety,” I explained.

Mr. Gaga is always terrified of change and has been sleeping on a pillow that resembles a pancake for years because he swears its the only pillow that doesn’t bother his neck.

“Our bed is fine.” he answered decisively.

“No – it’s ten years old and we are getting a new bed. We deserve a bed.” I reasoned.

Off we went and we picked out a luxurious bed that was recommended by friends.  It was extremely firm which would help our backs and necks.

I bought a fresh new crisp down comforter and splurged at Nordstrom on two pillows that really cost more than I care to think about, but that promised to provide amazing lumbar support!!  I hid the pancake pillow in a safe place just in case these million dollar pillows didn’t work out.

We gave our bed to Michael, figuring that for his little body it would be quite perfect.  His two-year old bed with very soft pillow-top luxury went to Sam and Sam’s hand-me down bed that was 8 years old went in the garbage.

Always the fan of POTTERY BARN – the boys were able to pick out the sports bedding of their choice – and we got rid of any lamps or accessories that was deemed “baby-ish.”

Sunday night we were all so excited to go to sleep in our new beds.

I just wanted to feel as though I was in a cloud.  I think that I deserve that.

Seriously - how badly do you want to just jump into this right now??

Seriously – how badly do you want to just jump into this right now??

The next morning we were all cautiously optimistic about our new lives as human beings that slept on proper beds.

None of our backs hurt and we all had a good night’s rest.  To be positive that our lives were changed forever we would need one more night – but we were fairly certain that things were looking up.

“Did you love the pillow? Please say you loved the pillow…it really cost a lot of money…” I begged Mr. Gaga.

“I think it could be good…but I can’t be sure yet..” he said hesitantly.

It would take one more night to be really sure.

But Monday morning something happened that would ruin all of our chances to find out about the joys of sleeping or the luxury of a bed that is suited perfectly for our bodies and our lumbar systems.

During a quiet morning we were completely caught off guard.

The TODAY SHOW was on while we ate our breakfast.  The kids were eating cereal quietly.  Just the sound of their clinking spoons and Matt Lauer were behind me as I made their lunches at the counter.

Suddenly, they were screaming and crying.  I whipped around quickly when I realized they were in distress.

They both had their eyes closed and were screaming “Turn it!! Turn it!!”

I couldn’t understand what was happening.  “What?!” I screamed frantically, but then I looked at the television.  Matt Lauer was gone.

And this fucking bitch was in his place.

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Um…. you’re not Matt Lauer….

Yes, Warner Brothers Pictures decided that it would be a great idea to show a trailer for their movie, Annabelle, that would make a grown adult shit their pants at 7:45 AM.  This movie preview aired when innocent children are eating their cereal minding their own business, waiting for Al Roker to tell them if it will be hot out.

That evening I found myself tortured all night long.

Both children couldn’t sleep, claiming that every time they closed their eyes they saw “that doll.”

Finally, Sam fell asleep after I coached him to think about Halloween candy, the beach, and Santa Claus.

Michael could not be consoled that easily.

“I keep seeing the doll!” he cried.

"It's just a doll...it's fake....just don't think about it..." I said. "Plus you don't have any dolls so you are safe."

“It’s just a doll…it’s fake….just don’t think about it…” I said. “Plus you don’t have any dolls so you are safe.”

He kept calling me to his room, and with tears in his eyes would explain that he couldn’t possibly go to sleep with this image in his head.

Every fifteen minutes I had to press pause on my DVR and go up and reassure him that the movie trailer was fake, the doll was fake and that everything would be okay.

I rubbed his back until it seemed like his breathing slowed.  I slowed down my back rubbing until I stopped my hand and rested it on his shoulder to see if he was asleep. He shot up into a seated position, “Don’t leave!” he begged.

I would go downstairs, and then would find myself back upstairs rubbing his back again shortly.

The torture continued until I decided to just go to bed myself.

I could hear him crying in his room so I invited his huge grown adult body into bed with me and a 3 hour deep REM sleeping Mr. Gaga.

“Now go to sleep,” I whispered as I turned out the light.

I dozed off quickly with his body pressing against my back but was shortly woken up by sobbing.

” Michael! STOP! You are going to wake up your father!” I whispered impatiently, “It’s fine – we are here, now stop this!”

He sniffed and calmed down a bit, and I quickly dozed off again.

Suddenly I was awoken again by my new heavenly bed shaking with Michael’s heaving body.

I am too old for this shit.  I purposely had my children young so I wouldn’t be in my late-30’s and lose sleep from a crying child.

I jumped out of bed and dragged him out by his hands.  I whipped him out of the bed and dragged him to his room – nearly pulling his arm out of the socket.

It was one AM.

“Get in bed!!!” I yelled while simultaneously flipping on every light I could find. “Read some books and get your shit together!” I yelled impatiently.

I frantically reached into his book shelf and whipped a bunch of books on top of this bed.

“I feel like I am going to throw up.” Michael said helplessly while he sat upright in his spanking new Pottery Barn Teen Mets Bed.

I ran to the bathroom and grabbed the wastebasket and threw it next to his bed. “Here.” I said as I turned to go back to my room.

I retreated back to my bed.  I laid down and closed my eyes and just as I started to doze off I heard his sobbing again.

I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

I resolved that I would go to sleep and he would have to figure it out on his own.

The sobs continued and suddenly Mr. Gaga threw our new bedding off of his body and stomped out of our room and into Michael’s bed.

*The bad thing about giving your queen-size bed to your 8 year-old, is that there’s no good reason why you can’t sleep with him when he’s sobbing.

The next morning I stumbled out of bed and woke up the children.  We were all bleary-eyed at the kitchen table eating breakfast silently.  I sipped at my coffee contemplating my day ahead and my night before.

“Do you think that Michael needs psychological help?” I whispered to Mr. Gaga as I made the kids’ lunches.

“No.” he answered shortly.

“I guess Mommy doesn’t like to help children when they are scared…” he announced to the kitchen.

“Yeah – she threw comic books at me.” Michael whimpered.

Mr. Gaga looked at me disapprovingly while I sipped my coffee.

“It’s a fake doll!!” I screamed at everyone defensively.

They all looked back at me with disgust.

Mr. Gaga spoke to Michael and gave him a good luck charm to make him feel safer and the sleep schedule is getting better around here – but I don’t blame myself for not comforting Michael at one o’clock in the morning.

I blame WARNER BROTHERS PICTURES for this travesty.

Children are eating their Pop-tarts   donuts  cake  Cheerios, thinking about all that’s right and wonderful in this world  in the morning before school.  They don’t need to be tortured by some fucking twat doll that comes to life and murders people.

This is not appropriate for the breakfast table you fucking assholes.

This is not appropriate for the breakfast table you fucking assholes.

Now instead of being a well-rested woman that sleeps atop billows of cotton candy….I look like this:

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Does this look like someone with a new bed?? I don’t think so.

I hope your happy, Warner Brothers.

I hope your ticket sales are through the roof.

I told a friend of my plight, to explain my horrendous looks.

“You know it’s based on a true story….from a possessed doll in Connecticut.” she told me gravely.

Holy fucking shit balls.

Holy fucking shit balls.

We are trying to move past this.

We are trying to enjoy our new beds and million dollar pillows.

Pray for us.

DON’T JUDGE ME! I AM TOO OLD TO BE WOKEN UP!!! PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Take me out of this ball game…


Besides it being Father’s Day it is also more importantly the last day of baseball.

It really couldn’t come fast enough.

I came home this afternoon and dumped the kids trophies off in the trophy room and felt like a weight was lifted off of me.

trophies

If you are currently thinking “Wow  – your kids must be amazing 7 and 8-year-old athletes to receive this many trophies!”

The answer to that would be “No – they suck…but this is the amount of trophies and awards that children receive in today’s world of overindulgence excessive accolades.”

I am so tired of 4-5 nights of practice/slash games. I am tired of taco and chicken nugget dinners night after night because we don’t get home until 8 PM. I am tired of stripping down the children and daily scrubbing and washing of baseball pants.

More than once I have woken up in the night in a cold sweat realizing that I forgot to wash the game pants and run down to the basement with a stain stick just in time.

Sam’s league is filled with kindergarteners who shit their pants and don’t know how to run bases and Michael has not played well this season – so sitting in a hot field to witness these games doesn’t interest me much.

With all of that aside – what I am most excited to be rid of as the season comes to a close is the BASEBALL PARENTS!

I think it’s not all that surprising when you come across Dads that are coaching and trying to live vicariously through their sons.

You know the type – the balding guy who coaches all the teams and screams and swears and acts like a complete douchebag.  The guy that makes an example of his own kid because you know…..his kid is the best ….and you know…he’s totally going to the majors.

I have an announcement to make Goopville:

NOBODY IS GOING TO THE MAJORS!!

GET A FUCKING HOLD OF YOURSELVES.

YOU DIDN’T MAKE IT TO A MAJOR LEAGUE TEAM. NEITHER WILL YOUR KID.

ACCEPT IT AND BEHAVE LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN.

These people act like complete maniacs.  They clutch their heads in despair as they watch from the sidelines, they pace back and forth and yell at their kids as thought their lives and futures depend upon their performance on the baseball fields filled with nine year olds.

Several sources (Ad Counsel, etc) have suggested that 1 in 16,000 HS players make the Majors. In most towns less than half of 12 y/o’s make the HS team. That would suggest a number somewhere upwards of 1 out of every 32 thousand kids that play in youth leagues will make the majors!!!

Nobody knows this.  Or nobody wants to believe this.  They have private baseball lessons and have their kids play baseball in the fall and spring and summer.  Some kids are in more than one league so they arrive to their second games tired and winded.

What is the point of all of this? If it’s not to make it to the big leagues than for what?

While I expect crazy dads in the youth sports arena – I was not prepared for all of the crazy baseball moms.

It starts the first week when you get an email from the “TEAM MOM” who is busy organizing the drink assignments.  This is when you get assigned a week when you are in charge of delivering a humongous cooler filled with Gatorade to the team to keep them “hydrated.”

I’m sorry – do we live in Cancun or Connecticut?

Are children so tired and thirsty that they need these huge chemical-ridden beverages?

Are children’s electrolytes that depleted that they need to consume large lemon lime beverages filled with poison?

I don’t believe in sodas and sports drinks and they are banned from my household – but magically just because “TEAM MOM” fails to read or watch DR. OZ – she has arranged things so that my children are suddenly downing flame retardant disguised as a “sports drink” necessary to getting through the game.

Our kids are soft Connecticut kids that are playing spring baseball for an hour.

They don’t deserve a sports drink.

 

If your son looks like this with blood, sweat and tears dripping down his face - then give him a Gatorade...Otherwise water will suffice.

If your son looks like this guy -with blood, sweat and tears dripping down his face – then give him a Gatorade…Otherwise water will suffice.

 

Now after all of the beverages are organized there’s the actual watching of the games.

I usually bring a chair and some magazines to sift through while I pretend to watch the game, but I end up reading the same page over and over again because I am surrounded by mothers that won’t SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Last weekend a monstrous beast that had clearly escaped from the women’s prison mom was shaking the fence while screaming at the children during the game, and then at the end of the game got in a fight with the umpire!

I can’t even think straight with all of the noise these women make and inevitably end up with a blinding headache from all of the chatter.

“Choke up!” “Good swing!” “Shorten up!” “Oh -don’t swing at that!” ” See the ball!” “Bad call!” “Hands Back” “Stay down!” “Nice spot!” “Oh- you gotta hit that!” “Oh – you gotta catch that!””Nice throw!”

It’s never-ending.

I feel like I am sitting next to like 5 Harry Caray’s…..

Literally this is what I have to listen to while I am TRYING TO READ ABOUT TORI SPELLING’S BROKEN HEART!!!

 

 

One of the mothers actually gets a babysitter to stay home with her two young children so that she can pay attention to the game!

I asked her why she would do such a thing.

“Well – when the baby is here – I miss parts of the game.  I am busy watching her and I can’t concentrate on the game,” she explained.

“Well, luckily you are not George Steinbrenner -so it’s really not so imperative that you watch every minute of the game…” I answered smartly.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“What the hell?” I stared at her to see if she was kidding but she clearly wasn’t.  “I can’t believe you act like Annie Savoy from Bull Durham and you don’t even know who George Steinbrenner is….” I said in disbelief.

“What’s Bull Durham?” she asked innocently.

Then I realized.

These bitches don’t really know anything about baseball except what they learned in Goopville!!!

It’s so easy when you I am surrounded by mothers that are giving play by plays and acting as though they know everything there is to know about America’s favorite past-time to feel as though maybe I should care more.

Maybe I should put down the US Weekly and take a little more interest in watching these 9 year olds play baseball.

But probably not.

It’s just a game after all.  Somehow parents across America have lost sight of that and it’s sad.

 

 

 •A good friend of mine used to say, "This is a very simple game. You throw the ball, you catch the ball, you hit the ball. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains." Think about that for a while.


A good friend of mine used to say, “This is a very simple game. You throw the ball, you catch the ball, you hit the ball. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains.” Think about that for a while.

 

And with that all I am worrying about is getting through the last week of school!

Goodbye baseball fields and hello BEACH!!!!!

PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME FOR THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!!  Happy Father’s Day to my dad and to MR. GAGA and to all fathers!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Big Fish in a Kiddie Pool


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

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

This week I wavered back and forth quite a bit.

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

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

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

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

27y62kh

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WHAT??!!

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

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

Ashton

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

burtreynolds2

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is a swimming miracle sent from Jesus.

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

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

 

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

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

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March Madness in Goopville


A while back I asked my readers what to call this homicidal maniac town I live in.  It is a town filled with mothers that are gluten free and wear Lululemon clothes all day for no reason and park in handicapped parking spots to give their children their skiis.  Someone suggested “Goopville” referencing the ramblings of lunatic, Gwenyth Paltrow on her insane blog GOOP….I thought that was perfection.  My town’s new name is Goopville.

Michael has a fall birthday.

Because I chose to send him to kindergarten at age 4 he is often the youngest in his class and on teams.  When I was weighing my decision to send him I thought it would be ok for him to compete with 5-year-olds.  What I hadn’t anticipated was that he would be competing with many 6 year-olds, since most mothers these days hold back their children as long as possible.  This is commonly known as “red-shirting your kindergartener.”

One can always spot these “red-shirters” because they are usually 6 feet tall and the boys have facial hair and the girls have full double “D’s” and their period in the third grade.

This is typical picture from Michael's class...see if you can find the "red-shirter."

This is typical picture from Michael’s class…see if you can find the “red-shirter.”

Michael plays in the YMCA basketball league for 7 and 8 year-olds.  The league relies on parent volunteers as coaches.  While it is generous of anyone to dedicate their time and energy to being a coach, you can imagine how things could get dicey with the wrong candidates.

Last week at Michael’s basketball game there was one of these monstrous red-shirters on the other team.  At first we thought he must be someone’s older brother while the team was warming up but then he took off his sweatshirt to reveal his team shirt and we were horrified.

The kid was at least ten years old.  His head was bigger than mine and Mr. Gaga’s put together and he had a moustache and for some reason not related to his age at all, he had a combover.

Also he may or may not have had a nail in his head...not sure

Also he may or may not have had a nail in his head…not sure

When the game started it was immediately clear that the kid was a nightmare.  He was pushing and shoving all the kids.  At one point, him and Michael both went for the ball and they started wrestling on the floor.  Michael finally got the ball.

“Nail-head’s” coach started walking on the court.  The ref explained to him that he could not be on the court and sent him back to his corner.

After that, “nail-head’s” behavior became more aggressive.

He continued the pushing and shoving and antagonistic behaviors typical of an angry 50 year-old.

guns-dont-kill-happy-gilmore-costume-shirt-screengrab-2

And then…

for no reason relative to the game of basketball…..he punched Michael in the stomach.

The referee had enough finally.

He threw him out of the game.

Like any mentally unstable “red-shirter”…he went to the corner of the gym and cried like a little bitch.

All was right with the world.

For all of two minutes.

Then all of a sudden – he was back in the game.

Why was he back on the court? How could this be??

Oh – because the coach told him to go back in!!!

“Nail-head” was sad- so of course it was time for him to go back in to the game!! Don’t all NBA coaches operate this way?

Even the ref was too nervous to say anything...

Even the ref was too nervous to say anything…

So play resumed.

After a couple of minutes a boy on Michael’s team was wrestling with the “red-shirter” for the ball and accidentally elbowed him in the face.

This time – all of the parents from the other team and the coach came running onto the court and a mob scene ensued.

georgetown-china-fight

The president of the YMCA happened to be there that day and noticed that something had gone horribly wrong on the court.

The other team’s parents and coaches were irate that someone had injured “nail-head” by accident!!!

Our team’s coach was screaming at the other team’s coach and a bunch of parents were there yelling at the ref and both coaches.

The YMCA President came running over to calm the masses and made everyone sit down in the bleachers.  He spoke to everyone about sportsmanship and told all the parents that the games were for the kids and that the basketball league is about children not adults.  He threatened to cancel the game unless everyone could agree to stay seated and watch and enjoy the game.

It's sad when grown-ass people have to listen to some guy talk about sportsmanship....

It’s sad when grown-ass people have to listen to some guy talk about sportsmanship….

The scolded parents agreed to stay still while the game ended.

And of course – just in case you were thinking there was hope for humanity at the end of the game when it was time to line up and shake hands – “Nail Head” punched everyone’s hand!!

Now Mr Gaga wanted me to mention that I actually wasn’t at the game (as usual) and that he gave me the first-hand account of what happened, because he just knew it was blog-worthy.

And even though I tell these types of cautionary tales week after week – I am amazed every time when I notice children acting like barbarians.  Every time parents act like stupid fucking morons I am shocked.

I will just never stop being shocked by modern-day parents’ bad behaviors.  The fact that parents today would sit by and watch their slow adult  3rd grader be violent and inappropriate and say nothing is disturbing on many levels.

What will happen to athletes if they are allowed to act like savage beasts and nobody ever puts them in their place?

Well ask Lance….

lance

Or Oscar…

oscarp

or this guy….

oj

or Mike….

tyson

Just sayin….

This won’t end well for all those “nail-heads” out there.

I DON’T KNOW WHEN PARENTS WILL STOP ACTING LIKE HUGE DOUCHEBAGS…BUT UNTIL THEN I WILL BE BUSY BRINGING YOU ALL OF THE LIVE REPORTING…PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO BE SURE THAT I REMAIN IN THE RUNNING FOR THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!!!

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News that I already knew…because I’m a genius


I remember my parents watching the evening news and I had no clue what Dan Rather was talking about.  The news was filled with news about foreign countries, wars, and legitimate domestic concerns.

At some point in recent years there’s very little separating TMZ from the Nightly News and its a bit disconcerting.  (Not that I’m complaining because I would pick TMZ over real news any day.)  But still!!!

This week there were a few news items that got top billing that just simply should not be news.

#1 – It’s cold outside.

Really?? History has proven and any Farmer’s Almanac will continue to show that in the “winter” months it gets all “wintery” and cold air blows around and makes the air feel cold.  And then people go out into the cold air and they exclaim “It’s so cold!”

Every. day.

Actually what I hear most often is  “I can’t believe how cold it is!!”

Why? Why can’t you believe it? WE LIVE IN NEW ENGLAND!! NOT BRAZIL OR ANY PLACE THAT WOULD MAKE YOU NOT BELIEVE IN COLD WEATHER!

When will this stop being news?

Every news report I heard this week prefaced the weather info with “It’s not actually a “Polar Vortex” but it sure feels like it!! It’s very, very cold!!”

No shit.

ecards

#2 – Justin Beiber makes bad choices:

Why the hell do we build people up and scream their name and go crazy for them and then the minute they make a mistake we tear them to shreds?

He’s a kid whose mother sold him down the YouTube River.  He’s had too much fame and money too soon in life and he’s bound to make some bad choices given the lack of parenting and guidance.

When I was a little bit younger than him I actually dated a guy that had a canary yellow Trans AM that was so loud and sparkled so bright yellow.  I thought I was the coolest guidette ever in that car.  If someone offered me a yellow Lamborghini for free you bet your freaking ass I would have hopped in that car so fast and floored it.

Who of you can honestly say that you wouldn’t do the same??

A fucking loser who wishes he was Justin Beiber instead of a DJ in HARTFORD CT,  announced on the radio it was National “Dislike Justin Beiber on Facebook” day.  Really??

I am so not down with making ourselves feel better by tearing down young heart-throbs.

I’m a Belieber.

You should be too.

#3 – Soda is bad.

You know I have been shocked by America’s disregard for healthy beverage choices in Disney World.  But in general I just cannot believe that people down “diet brown liquids” with no regard for their health and safety.

photo

This is not news.

It’s upsetting to me that Americans find this information to be late-breaking news.

Attention fat Americans: drinking diet soda is a death wish!!!!

#4 -Sesame Street characters are not making healthy choices:

This was all over the news this week – the Sesame Street characters are going to have to make better choices.

Somebody decided that it was the Sesame Street characters who were making our American children fat and stupid.

So while everyone was focusing their energies on how inappropriate Spongebob is, and how annoying Caillou is – I guess we forgot to take a closer look at our pals on the old Sesame Street.

Here we have Oscar the Grouch.  He is perpetually rude to people, generally unpleasant, eats actual garbage and lives in a garbage can.

Nobody minds this filthy asshole - but Spongebob who is nice and lives in an immaculate delightful pineapple - gets a bad rap.

Nobody minds this filthy motherfucker – but Spongebob who is nice and lives in an immaculate delightful pineapple – gets a bad rap.

Then we have Ernie and Bert who basically are the most lethargic gay people who could ever meet.  They lie around watching birds or playing chess all day, and then spend the rest of the day chatting in bed. They literally don’t do any work or anything productive…..ever.

No wonder Ernie is a little hefty, (Bert must be genetically blessed.)

Also, it would be nice if someone would tell this lazy piece of shit that horizontal stripes are not his friend.

Here Ernie spends the day pretending that he cannot hear Bert speaking because he stuck a piece of fruit in his ear.  This is not a good lesson for children.

Here Ernie spends the day pretending that he cannot hear Bert speaking because he stuck a piece of fruit in his ear. This is clearly not a good lesson for children.

And in a press release Sesame Street stated that in the new programming focused on modeling healthy behaviors for children Bert and Ernie jump rope and munch apples and carrots, and Cookie Monster has his namesake treat once a week, not every day.”

Oh you mean Cookie Monster is going to eat one cookie a week?? OK well that’s called a “Blue guy that eats a cookie once a week” – not a “Cookie Monster” by any stretch.

Maybe he can be called a “Recovering Cookie Addict Guy” or “The Monster formally known as Cookie.”

How did this asshole get away with this compulsive vile behavior for so long in the first place?  To add insult to injury he talks in ebonics and says things like "ME LOVE COOKIES."

How did this asshole get away with this compulsive vile behavior for so long in the first place? To add insult to injury he talks in ebonics and says things like “ME LOVE COOKIES.”

I will admit – even I am surprised that it took us this long to complain about the bad Sesame behaviors.  I think that we were snowed by how cute Elmo is that we overlooked some of these very unhealthy characters.

Thank God, the Sesame people realized the error of their ways.

In closing – I am hoping for some news next week that actually is surprising and news-worthy.

Don’t tell me the winter is cold or that Cookie Monster is a fat asshole.

These are not news items.

It’s common knowledge.

WAKE UP AMERICA!!!

SODA IS BAD AND EVIL!! CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!! XO, lady goo goo gaga

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Putting the cart before the rest of us….


Well, well, well….

Remember when I posted the following, (after I went to Disney World) and many of you blasted me with hate emails????

Well, I hate to say it, but by the size of the humans that were walking around, zipping around on motorized carts, in Disney World, …. Everywhere we went we were met with hoards of overweight people with Mickey Mouse ears on and fanny packs strapped onto their motorized carts.

This is a very common scene...tremendously large humans with Mickey Mouse ears on with huge sodas....
This is a very common scene…tremendously large humans with Mickey Mouse ears on with huge sodas….These people only left their carts so they could get a good seat for the parade.

“I’m sorry did I miss the episode of the Mickey Mouse Club when Mickey announced he loved fat people and soda?” I asked Mr. Gaga. “I don’t get it.” I said to Mr. Gaga as we were making our way through the crowds of obese people.

“Well they are fat because they drink soda and the fact that they are so fat and lazy that they can’t walk doesn’t help,” he pointed out. I looked around and realized at the moment that about half of the people in the park were driving carts and half were walking. “Oh my God!” I exclaimed, “I thought everyone was injured!” Mr. Gaga stared at me like I was an idiot.

When I looked a little closer I realized nobody even had a band-aid on, let alone anything that indicated a real injury!!
When I looked a little closer I realized nobody even had a band-aid on, let alone anything that indicated a real injury!!

After a few days in the Magic Kingdom we made our way to Epcot Center. “Hey did you notice there aren’t any motorized carts here?” Mr. Gaga pointed out. “Oh yeah…I wonder why?” I said as I looked over the map of the Epcot. “Oh!! I bet we will see them in “America!”

After enjoying music, culture and food in Japan, France, Italy and Mexico I was afraid to see what “America” had to offer.

“It’s just going to be big enormous people laying on couches everywhere eating McDonalds and drinking huge sodas.” I said to Mr. Gaga as we made our way.

“Or enormous children playing video games,” Mr. Gaga offered.

We were pleasantly surprised that neither of those features were the focus of the America showcase in Epcot.

Thank God….it would be totally embarrassing if the world found out the truth about us.

It’s best to keep this little soda problem a secret between you, me, Mickey Mouse and Mayor Bloomberg.

Well it looks like even OLD MICKEY MOUSE HIMSELF recognized that these motorized carters were imposters!!

Pretending that they can’t walk so they can zip to the front of every line!!!!!

The jig is up motorized cart people.

The jig is up.

Disney World issued a statement this week that they would modify the rules that allowed everyone who is in a motorized cart to just zip in front of the 500 people who have waited in the hot sweaty lines for 2 hours.

While it is important to allow special needs children to get in front of the line – because clearly it is a priority for them – it is NOT a priority for people who abuse the system.

Funny enough – we chose this week to go to the BIG E – which is basically a the ultimate in New England fairs.  It’s much dirtier than Disney, and much less rides and much trashier food.

Also – there’s no mouse – so they make do with whatever white trash mascot they can think of.  Here – the kids begged me to play a game where they would win – what appears to be a banana that is a Rastafarian??

banana

Also – this fair is pretty big – but not nearly as big as Disney, so there aren’t as many motorized carts.

But I did take some time to actually observe the motorized carters when I saw them.

I noticed one couple had filled the basket in front of their cart with cigarettes, lighters and fried doughs.

The irony was not lost on me.

The main point of this fair is to eat ungodly things that no human should ever eat –

I kicked it off with fried pickles….

pickle

Remember when I blogged about Mr. Gaga’s Irish tendencies??

Well Mr. Gaga took it one step further by ordering this…..

balls

This is called “fried shephard’s pie” …smothered with gravy….
Yes. It’s true.

So then it was time to feed the kids.

Usual requests include burgers and pizza.

“I want one of those.” Michael said pointing to a food stand.

“Are you sure? You have never had one…..you might not like it.”

“I want one.” he said positively.

“Ok.” I answered hesitantly.

It was my first time too and it was fucking delicious.

dog

While we were on a roll with the white trash foods – I took a gamble and decided we should try one of the Big E specialties.

It’s called the Craz-E burger.

If you guessed that this was a bacon cheeseburger placed gently in between two glazed doughnuts, then you would be correct....

If you guessed that this was a bacon cheeseburger placed gently in between two glazed doughnuts, then you would be correct….

I have to say – it was pretty good!!

Now does anyone know where I can buy a motorized cart??

SORRY EVERYONE!!  BUT FAIR IS FAIR!! PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW SO I CAN BE THE NUMBER ONE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!!!

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