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Category Archives: Mom car

Be careful what you wish for…


When Sam went off to kindergarten, I cried as I walked back home.  Mr. Gaga and I sat on the front steps enjoying a few sips of morning coffee, and then off he went to work.  I stepped into the kitchen, wiped my tears, put my coffee cup in the sink and looked around.

We had spent the past two days frantically shopping and unpacking from vacation.  Mr. Gaga had been nice enough to make a big “back-to-school breakfast” for the kids, and the remaining pans with greasy bacon and crusted eggs were on the stove top.  The dishwasher was full and needed emptying, there were Legos all over the floor, a stack of papers that needed to be filled out and returned to school was scattered all over the kitchen island, cups and breakfast plates littered the counters.

The place was a shit hole.

I stared at the dishwasher and the weight of it coupled with the deafening silence of the house was too much to bear.

I turned on my heel and went up to my bedroom to get ready for work. (Although it would be nice to have time to myself – I knew it would be best for my mental health to be working that day.) If I had nowhere to be – I I would have surely dissolved into a hysterical mess on the floor in front of the dishwasher.

I had dreamt of this day for 7 years.  As soon as Michael’s head was crowning in the delivery room I was thinking about the day I could ditch him and have some “me” time.

I had wished many times for a day that I would be all alone and could drink my coffee in peace, and watch whatever morning program I wanted.  As I got ready for work I decided to turn on the television in my bedroom and watch Kelly Ripa.

After a couple of minutes I had to call my BF.

“Um – I have been waiting to watch Kelly for 7 years and today is the day – and it sucks.” I said sinking into a depression.

“Oh, yeah – it’s horrible, there’s some football player on it now….it’s not good,” she answered matter-of-factly.

So – all this time I have been watching morning cartoons, and I finally get to watch and there’s some weird football player instead of Regis?

Well, thank God I had somewhere to be – so I couldn’t get too upset.

As I made my way out the door to go to work – I remembered the filthy house.  As I shut the door behind me – I thought, “I’ll clean it up later, I’ll just tell Mr. Gaga that I was busy with…..too busy with….that I ….that I what??

Oh shit.

A newfound sense of dread crept through me as I drove to work pondering this little dilemma.  It seems that when those kids got on that bus to full-day school they took with them a long list of excuses that I will no longer be able to use.

Will I ever be able to say I’m tired again?

” Tired from what?” people will ask.

What will my answer be?

“Tired from walking 3 inches to the bus stop twice a day?”

“Tired from pouring cereal in two separate bowls in the morning?”

And what about Mr. Gaga? He’s never going to let me be “tired” again!!! In the past I could always block any romantic overtures with complaints of exhaustion so that I could watch my shows and relax at night.

I could bark out things like “I just breastfed your son all day, get away from me!” or “Don’t come near me I have been cleaning up vomit all day.”

Now what will I say? I better think of something or the Gaga household is going to be a lot more romantic than its been in approximately 7 years.

This should make your feet feel better after all that walking back and forth to the bus-stop ….now get upstairs!

Speaking of which – I would kill for a day of pampering at the spa.   But if I don’t clean or accomplish anything and take some “me” time, it will probably not look good.  I will just have to tell Mr. Gaga (and anyone else who asks) that I spend a lot of time volunteering at the kids’ classrooms.

Meanwhile, Mr. Gaga will think my toes are curled in the throes of ecstasy, but I will really just be hiding my pedicure.

If all of a sudden I start to look put together and well-groomed – it will be a signal that I have too much time on my hands.

Hmmm, I will have to wear a fake moustache when he’s around or he will totally know something is up!

“My day was sooo boring, I volunteered at the school and then I was going to clean the whole house from top to bottom but I forgot I promised a friend I would volunteer with her at a soup kitchen today……”   “What? Oh, I know I keep meaning to wax my moustache but I haven’t had a minute!!!”

And then what? Is Mr. Gaga going to expect me to shave my legs on a regular basis?  I can’t really think of a reason why they wouldn’t be shaved… now that I have ALL DAY!!!

What will be next? Will I be expected to wear matching bra and underwear sets?  Will I have to throw out my maternity underwear once and for all?

Speaking of underwear, what reason will there be for people in the Gaga household to not have clean underwear anymore?  I certainly can no longer say I haven’t had a chance to do laundry…..

At one point this past holiday season, Mr. Gaga pointed out that he wore a pair of dirty underwear inside-out in an act of sheer desperation, because I had neglected the laundry for so long.

I don’t think that’s going to fly anymore.

Let’s face it. There’s no household chore I will be able to get out of.  I’ve been known to leave the house in the morning without emptying the dishwasher.  I would be out and about all day running errands and entertaining the children, and then I would watch Mr. Gaga do it at night while I made dinner.

“Sorry – I couldn’t get to it in between the library, the park, the playdate, and music class!” I would say.

And speaking of Mr. Gaga coming home from work….there have many days that I have met him in the driveway as he got out of his car.  Citing horrible children that were torturing me, I would leave frantically in search of a minute’s peace.  I would go anywhere to get away from the beasts and leave him to deal with them for an hour or two.

After I am home alone all day – I don’t think Mr. Gaga will like coming home to this anymore…..

Oh, and my car.  For the past 7 years, Mr. Gaga and any other responsible adult would be horrified upon entering my vehicle.  It is basically filled with pounds and pounds of beach sand from May to September, along with crushed goldfish, munchkin pieces, exploded Capri Sun containers, and used straws.

Now when someone sits in the back seat and leaves with sandy french fries on their ass, who can I blame?

Myself???  Oh the horror.

I guess the need for fast food will be out the window anyhow.  What reason will there be for no dinner? Could I say I just didn’t feel like it? Could I say that I spent the day watching television programs and forgot to plan for supper?

I don’t think so.

Oh how I love this new host with Kelly!! I can worry about dinner later…..

It seems to me I have my work cut out for me more than ever before.  Will it ever end??

Sigh.

WELL YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY…BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR!!  RIGHT NOW I WISH FOR YOU TO CLICK THE BANNER BELOW….IT’S THE LEAST YOU CAN DO…

XO LADYGOOGOOGAGA

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Terrified by the Dashboard Lights


Where did I leave off ?……Oh right…I did a kind act for my child and was rewarded with my “mom car” blowing up. 

The “check engine” light is flashing, a dinging noise is chiming repeatedly and another symbol is lit up on the dashboard which (a quick perusal of my car manual tells me) means essentially “Run for your life!”

So what did I do?

I drove home.  I was so close – I had to do it.

I arrived home without the car blowing up.

I was near hyperventilation.  The kids were still crying about Superman.

The “mom car” had to go in the shop for repairs.  This hellish week of back-to-school and my husband’s crazy schedule, we couldn’t have only one car. My husband borrowed someone’s car and let me use his.

It was glorious.

His car is nothing fancy.   But for starters, it’s a car and it’s not red.  It’s pretty fast and it has a leather interior and heated seats.

He watched me as I was getting acclimated, adjusting the seat and changing the mirrors.  I looked up at the rearview mirror and remembered that I can possibly get some tanning done in this vehicle.  I started thinking I should just keep this as my car.

“Look you even have a skylight in here!! It’s not fair!” I said pouting.

He looked at me with disgust.

“Ok – at least get the lingo right – It’s a sunroof.”

“Oh right – apparently my “mom car” is making me stupid……I am keeping this for my car now, you can have mine.”  I said matter-of-factly.

I think he didn’t really take me seriously the first day.  But by the end of the 10- day period of time that my car was in the shop, I had a new lease on life and there was absolutely no way I was giving him his car back. 

I can feel my youth in his car.  I am lower to the ground than I have been in 6 years.  It’s not depressing and sad like my “mom-car.”   I don’t chug along dropping kids off at school or going to the store. 

I zip.

I zip to the store in my sporty little car.  I open the skylight and crank up the music. I don’t have room for more than 3 kids and a stroller can’t even fit in the trunk if I tried.

It’s wonderful.

Not to mention that I have paid my dues in the offensive automobile department.  My father gifted me with my first car which was a powder blue Chrysler Holiday.   It was mortifying and ruined my life for a short period until I totaled it on purpose  in a horrible accident – (but everyone was ok thank goodness.)

I actually couldn’t even find a picture of this ridiculous hunk of shit – but this is the closest image I could find – just to give you an idea of what my Dad thought would be appropriate for his daughter to drive to a New England prep school where all the children drove BMW’s.

Picture this in powder blue....

After that I used my father’s Ford Taurus station wagon to get around for a while until he replaced my “Holiday” with a Mercury Topaz from the 80’s. 

This is what it looked like - but don't worry I tinted the windows and got some bitchin' hubcaps to spif it up....

After that I spent a few years driving a red Ford Escort, and then finally got a little sporty car that I liked. 

Guess what happened when I paid off that car and was loving life?

I had a baby and spent the next 6 years rocking a “mom-car.”

One day when we were fist-pumping (through the sunroof!!!) to the music, with the wind from the open window blowing my hair – Michael asked “Mommy when are you getting your car back?”

I turned down the radio – “This is my car.” I answered.

“No it’s not!” he said. I stopped at a light and looked back at both kids.

“Yes it is – and do you seen how clean and luxurious it is?  Do you see how it seems as if the person who owns this car has no children?” I asked.

They both nodded their heads “yes.”

“Ok – it’s going to stay that way. No more eating in the car.  No more leaving Lego guys and itty-bitty GI Joe guns and loose crayons in the car.  I want this car to always seem like there are never any kids in it….Got it?”

They agreed to this. 

By the time my car came back from the shop – my husband had resigned himself to driving the “mom-car” full-time.

Next step – making the full swap of the cars.  Out came the shop-vac and garbage bags and my husband went to work cleaning out the “mom-car.” 

It didn’t go well.

“This is disgusting, how could you live like this?” he said several times throughout the day.

“This car has been with me for some rough years!!  Children have grown up in it!  They have eaten and barfed and pooped in it!   Your car is so nice because you only had children in it like twice.  Drive a mile in my mom-car shoes and then we will talk, and I am sorry I didn’t have time to “Armor-all” the car – because I was busy BREASTFEEDING!!!”

Whenever I need to defend myself – I usually try to work in the breastfeeding and then I automatically win the argument.  Even though I haven’t breastfed in 3 1/2 years – it actually is still effective!!

Finally I took my lipglosses and sunglasses and any other essentials and gave him his cologne and EZ PASS and we were swapped!  I felt such a weight off of my shoulders.

And really it is for the best.  If I don’t nip this in the bud right now – I could end up in one of those things for the rest of my life! I could be bringing them to college in a van!! I could be picking them up and 32 friends from the movies!!

That wouldn’t be good for my mental health.

If this "mom car" thing continues - this will be me picking up my kids when they are on a date .....and then nobody will be happy.

Why should I drive a “mom car?”  Haven’t I done enough?  

It’s not enough that I am permanently fat and unpleasant?

I have to wake up everyday and get into some sort of red mini-van that’s filled with smashed up goldfish, sand, and toys?

 I don’t have a dog. 

I don’t have 4 children.  

Why am I driving this thing again?

Oh right …..I’m not.

It was hurting my feelings – and I feel much better now.

I know it’s a bit of a pain – but if you have a minute please vote for me as one of PARENTS MAGAZINE’S FUNNIEST MOM BLOGS!!

AND IF YOU CAN’T DO THAT YOU CAN VOTE FOR ME AS ONE OF THE TOP  MOMMY BLOGS….I AM VERY POPULAR:)

Linking to Shell at Things I Can’t Say and Boobies, Babies and a Blog and

Seven Clown Circus

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