RSS Feed

Category Archives: mommy

Scary Party and Scary Lunch

So – remember when my friend Martha had a party in her backyard and all hell broke loose?

And remember when we went to the party that was not a “traditional American” party?

Well – let’s say I have learned a little bit about birthday parties – and I have spent a small fortune on bouncing facilities, carousels, clowns, face painters, etc…..

So, I took a risk and hosted a Halloween party for Michael on Saturday!

I was a little concerned about hosting 16 kids in costume (9 of which came toting a light saber – which usually is a recipe for disaster.)  But I learned from Martha – and I only planned one structured activity.

So a good bulk of the party the kids were left to run wild – chasing each other with their weapons…..They loved it!!

Mr. Gaga and I even dressed up, we had a fog machine and a bloody hand like Martha had suggested and scary decorations.

I even made an amazing graveyard cake! 

I know what you are thinking....Don't worry I already started the ball rolling to appear on the next season of Cake Boss.....

There were no fights.

There were no tears.

I mean if this keeps up – I might have to end this blog….what is this world coming to??

And in other “Mother of the Year” news – I went to Michael’s school on Friday to have lunch with him for his birthday.  I have to say a couple of things about this……

(You didn’t think this was going to be all about happy children and good kids’ parties and being a good mom did you??)

Ok  – first of all, there is a new phenomenon where the children of today want their mother to be with them all the time.  

Can you believe this horse shit?

I understand it’s not the 1970’s anymore – when mother’s were not even watching us ……so involved.

However- if my mother even put one toe into my school cafeteria – I would have hidden under the table so fast or pretended I went blind like Mary from Little House on the Prairie.

(That show led me to believe that you could go completely blind at any minute for no good reason – so I would often stare straight ahead and pretend I went blind.)

This was me in 1985 - whenever my mother popped into the cafeteria to see how my day was going and bring me McDonald's.....

Not this generation. 

As a mother – this new attitude of loving your mother is great – because Michael was sooo excited to see me – his eyes lit up and he patted the seat next to him to show me where to sit…. ( my heart soared.)

It was ‘picture day” – so he looked especially cute with his hair gelled in his Ralph Lauren “handsome shirt,” waiting anxiously for my arrival.

I brought him McDonald’s in a Halloween Happy Meal container and I think he might have been as happy to see me as the food.


I would have kept in character of a blind girl and felt around with my hands and snatched that Happy Meal and ran away.

But anyways – it was nice to sit and eat with my son and chat.  So when there was a lull in the conversation I took a second to look around at the surroundings and the other children.

I was so confused.

Wait a second……Did I get my dates mixed up? Is this “picture day” or is this “try out for the role of orphan in the production of “Annie?”

Some of the girls in Michael's class were practicing poses for their school picture....

I slowly started peering around table by table and assessing the situation.  I could not believe my eyes.   You know how I am not a fan of the latest craze of letting your kids go to school looking like heroin addicts with snarled hair, well that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Let me be clear – I live in an AFFLUENT TOWN. 

One child I know of that lives in a home that is approximately 6000 square feet and has live-in domestic help, had shorts on that looked like pajamas and a shirt that didn’t match.

What goes on in people’s homes in the morning? As I returned my attention back to the table I was at, I looked at the boy directly to the left of me.

I am not kidding you when I say that this was what this 7-year-old boy was wearing……

I had to stop myself from staring in horror openly.  God, my eyes……it would actually be good to be Mary in this cafeteria.

What the hell goes on????

Do people just not give a shit anymore??

At the very least could you give the kid something seasonally appropriate?

(It was 60 degrees and torrential downpours on Friday.)

I will say that whenever I get involved with the kids’ activities/school I get more glimpses of the bizarre world that we live in.

Is this just my town or is this a new phenomenon of parents everywhere?  Parents that are too tired, overwhelmed, old?? to care about minor things like combing their children’s hair or putting an outfit on their 7-year-old son – that is not his baby sister’s summer clothes…….

Either way – there’s one great thing about this…..

My kids look like freaking rock stars.

Oh and P.S. – I am keeping this all light and cute because if I stop and think about the fact that I have a 6-year-old!!!! I will cry… please click on the banner below to vote for me!!! Thanks so much! xoxox, Lady Goo Goo Gaga


Mommy Tip #2 – Tantrums are not just for Toddlers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He burst into tears.

I peered at him over the top of my book. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At this point – Sam hopped out of the water.

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

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

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

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


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

The beach was silent.

 A seagull flew by. 

The crabs made their way back to sea. 

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

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

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

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

Thank God I had just read a blog called Things I Can’t Say, in which the mom blogger, Shell, suggested getting Mike’s Hard Strawberry Lemonade, and I had some chilled waiting for me.  The promise of malt liquor was the only thing pushing me through the motions of showers, dinner and bedtime routines.

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



Linking to Sunday Funday with Carri Ann and Pour You Heart Out


Beach Mode

We are on vacation – which means that LADY GOO GOO GAGA is no longer interested in parenting or caring for her children.  Her top priorities are eating food, drinking wine, and reading US Weekly on the beach.

As a result, my children now eat a steady rotation of CARS 2 cereal, Fluffernutters, and hot dogs.  (Add in an ice cream from the ice cream man and that about rounds out the daily meal.)  As I have mentioned before, I am Italian and I take food very seriously – so this meal plan is a clear indication of how “checked out” I actually am.

The other day on the beach I was attempting to read my book, The Hunger Games Trilogy, and ignoring my children.  I was rudely interrupted  by mothers screaming from the boardwalk that my children were spitting water at each other – and apparently getting their saliva on others in the process.  I had to put my book down and get up and walk to the boardwalk.  On my way, a mother – (from what do you know – my hometown!!! They follow me everywhere) says…

“Your children are spitting at each other…and getting water on everyone.”

You know what? It’s the effing beach….so I don’t care if someone got a little spit on them – we just swam in the Long Island Sound all day.  Do you really think a little water and saliva from a 4-year-old is going to make or break the germ situation?  Why did I just have to put down my beach book to deal with this bullshit? I AM ON VACATION.

This isn't me - but we are thinking the same thing - "I don't know where my kids are - and I don't care."

This isn’t me, it is Britney Spears – but we are thinking the same thing – “I don’t know where my kids are – and I don’t care.”

All parenting is on hiatus.  Oh – what’s that?  One more episode of Spongebob Squarepants?? Sure. Sounds awesome.  Let me just have another glass of wine.

Oh, what did you say?  Your brother just catapulted you out of the hammock and you hit your head on the metal pole? Oh – that’s sad for you – here’s an ice cream sandwich.

What? I can’t hear you over the sound from the blender making Miami Vices!  You want to go climb on the rocks by the beach and pee on them instead of going to the bathroom?   Sounds great!!!

Poor kids – hopefully the slight relief of helicopter parenting will benefit them – maybe one day they will say – “Remember when we were little and we would go on vacation to the beach – and Mommy never watched us or talked to us and let us do whatever we wanted? Good times…”




This week I took my kids for haircuts at a “kids haircuts” place.  It’s ridiculous to pay $18 for a buzz cut!! But they love going, so once in a while I will take them.  The reason why they love it so much is because they can play video games and listen to weird songs about haircuts sung by creepy animated scissors and hairspray cans. 

When I went to the counter to pay I noticed a sign that said:


I said to the girl at the counter, “Just out of curiosity, why do you charge for this?”

She said that her staff was wasting a lot of time and running late a lot because of unexpected “snags” in their schedule, when parents would bring kids with rat’s nests on top of their heads.

“But how often does that really happen?” I scoffed.

She raised her eyebrows, “Enough for me to have to make a new policy and put that sign up.”

I wouldn’t let it go.

“But what do parents say? Are they annoyed or at least embarrassed if they have to pay the fee?”

“No – they don’t care, as long as they don’t have to deal with it, they say that they don’t brush their daughter’s hair for weeks, because they cry and they don’t like it.”

So let me get this straight, you let your kid walk around looking like Amy Winehouse so that she doesn’t have to experience the unpleasant feeling of a tangle.  What the hell is happening to this world??  Since when do kids rule our world? Comb your daughter’s hair for god sakes!!! Or don’t have kids!!

And this is not a white-trash, “my mother is a prostitute and doesn’t wake up in time to comb my hair” situation.  This salon is in a well-to-do town where ½ the moms are home with their kids and just can’t be bothered to groom their children.  I have seen this phenomenon far too much since we started preschool, and thanks to Justin Beiber, even boys come in to school or to the bus stop looking like heroine addicts. 

There is a 2nd grade boy at our bus stop who has hair that looks like this.......

 That would be the day that my father would let my brother walk around with long hair with big matted tangle balls hanging out of it, while my mother watched Days of Our Lives and talked on the phone.   If he ever came home after a long day of work and saw his son looking like one of the ratty ass kids I see all the time….he would commit my mother to a mental hospital.

Now – some of you are going to say “Oh – she has boys – she doesn’t know how hard it is to have girls.”

AM a girl. I had nappy frizzy hair to my butt and my mother put “No more tangles” spray in every night – and sat there and combed that shit out.  I hated it and I cried.  Nobody cared. 

And we are not doing these girls any favors by not letting them experience the discomfort of a snarl in their hair.  IT IS LIFE!!! Unless you want your next hair cut to be a “Brittney Spears meltdown”….Deal with it.

And moms -if you can’t handle your child’s slight discomfort from a comb in their hair…exactly what can we look forward to seeing at the bus stop when they get their periods?

If you click on the banner below – I will so appreciate it!!  Just a click counts as a vote for LADY GOO GOO GAGA!! THANK YOU!!!!

This post has been linked up with Adventures in Mommyhood for:

Off the Deep End

We spend a lot of time at the beach in the summer.  Up until last year I never sat down once when I was there.  I would lug chairs, towels, lotions, toys, swim diapers, etc. and then I would run around, covered in sand and sweat, chasing two little boys all day.  I would dig holes, take rocks and sand out of mouths, and most importantly prevent drowning.  It’s exhausting.  I’m tired.

These kids need to learn how to fend for themselves, and SWIM – so I can sit in a chair and read US Weekly, and look up occasionally……Is that too much to ask?

We sent both kids to about 5 or 6 costly sessions of lessons in hopes that they would learn to swim at an early age.  My husband and I did “Rock, Paper, Scissors,” to see who would get in a bathing suit and splash around during the “Parent and Me” lessons, and we were out about $500 before we realized we were getting nowhere fast.  If they both got tossed in a pool they would sink like a bag of rocks.

Last summer, Michael finally could stay afloat and do the doggy paddle.  When we went away this spring, he jumped right into the pool, no problem.   I was busy putting SPF on Sam with my back to the pool and Sam started laughing and said nonchalantly, “Look at Michael….he’s drowning.”

What do you know – he was fully drowning.

Into the pool I went to save him with my clothes on.

“This is bullshit!” I screamed at my husband shortly after I saved our child’s life, as he leisurely arrived at the pool, while I stood drenched in my clothes.  While I was putting sunscreen on the kids, blowing up inflatables until I passed out, saving people’s lives and getting the beginning of a sunburn because I spent a half hour taking care of the kids instead of protecting myself from the sun, my husband “had to go to the bathroom.” Please note all that occurred during the time that he spent on one trip to the bathroom.

“Why? What happened?” he said incredulously holding a beer and a copy of Men’s Health.

“Michael drowned!” I screamed.

“Really? I thought he could swim…”

“Well apparently he forgot.” I said with disgust.

Michael was listening to the conversation – floating on a tube in the pool, completely recovered from the traumatic event.  He said casually, “Mom, you should be a lifeguard.”

“I don’t want to be a lifeguard! You guys have to swim!!” I yelled hysterically.

So fast-forward to May, time to pull out the big guns.  There is a swimming school 20 minutes from us that operates a very intense and expensive program.  For over $400 for 2 kids, every night for 2 weeks, they promise you 2 swimming children. 

I signed up for lessons that started at 6:30 for Sam and 7:30 for Michael.  Insane? YES!!!!

I thought – “OK – it will be a rough 2 weeks and it will be worth it.”

First off – this place is in a huge glass building and parents are not allowed inside during lessons.  We are allowed to watch from outside through patches of condensation on the glass to see if we are getting our money’s worth.  Well of course, lessons started 2 weeks ago when it literally RAINED EVERY SINGLE NIGHT.  So there I am each night drenched, miserable, with one child hanging on me telling me they are cold, staring at the clock waiting for the lessons to be over.  One night it was thundering and lightening, and my husband tried to come in the building and they made him go wait in his car!! SWIMMING NAZIS!

Also, because its 20 minutes away, by the time we took showers and got home each night, it was a little before 9.  To say the kids were tired is a huge understatement.  We haven’t been to the bus stop in 2 weeks, and everyone was on edge, and could very easily be reduced to tears at any moment.

Oh – and wait, don’t let me forget the best part! Sam started each morning when he woke up by opening his eyes and bursting into tears, saying “I don’t want to go to swimming tonight!”  He actually cried throughout 7 out of 10 lessons.  I would peek in and see him with his hands on the edge of the pool practicing his kicking just hysterically crying.  There I am, out $450, plus hundreds more on gas, exhausted and this kid is inconsolable.

More than once I thought I had made a huge mistake all in the name of sitting down on the beach, but we trudged along.

One morning I was at the end of my rope, and Sam was doing his morning routine. 

“I hate swimming!” he screamed, “I am never going to swim! NEVER!!” he yelled through tears.

I lost it.

“You ARE going to swim!!!” I yelled, “And not only that you had better be Michael Phelps when this is over!” I screamed in his face.

He just looked at me blankly for a couple of seconds and then started crying again. 

Friday was our last night – thank you Jesus.  Parents were actually invited in!  Do you know that both kids calmly walked down this long diving board, waved to me, jumped into 9 feet of water, popped up and swam to their teacher!!

It was a MIRACLE!!!!   It’s not Olympic worthy – but if I can even read the “Stars – they are just like Us” page of US Weekly I’m going to be one happy girl.

If you love your weekly Goo Goo Gaga – please vote for me by clicking on the banner below!! Thanks 😉


Reposted for Adventures in Mommyhood

Baby mama (not)

Baby mama (not)

Even though I have been waiting almost 6 years for this…now that I am not going to have any children in the 3 and under category,  I feel a little bit like a slacker. 

I know – you think I am crazy – but I feel like maybe my life isn’t as torturous as it once was, and maybe I am not allowed to complain anymore.  I mean when I see Moms lugging strollers and diaper bags into the library or the store, with bags under the eyes, it seems like a million years ago that I was in their position.  But what I would like to know is – can I still say I’m tired? Because I really am!!   I truly don’t remember the last time I wasn’t tired. 

When I am out and about in town, I wear my sunglasses at all times to not make eye contact with people I don’t like, to hide the fact that I look like a bag of shit and have had chronic dark circles for 5 years. My sunglasses of choice have been an old pair of black Pradas that are the perfect shape to cover a good portion of my face and are really dark – so nobody can see my eyeballs.  They have been sat on, dropped, thrown in the sandbox, etc.  I can barely see out of them because of all the scratches.  It’s borderline insane that I wear them, if you look at me when I’m wearing them – you will just see crazy scratch marks all over both lenses.  When people ask about the situation I just say – “I know its horrible – I just haven’t had a minute to get new glasses.”  Which is true – but what now – do I have to throw them out?  What’s my excuse why I can’t do something so simple as get a new pair of sunglasses?

"Oh hi - I'm just here to pick up my son from preschool."

Even this past Christmas – I was arguing with my brother, who just had a baby, about where we would meet in the morning to open gifts. 

“I’m not lugging my kids – taking them in and out of all of their seats and straps and carrying them into your house in the freezing cold – only to get back in the car to go to NY like an hour later.” I argued.

“What are you talking about? They are grown men! The get in and out of their booster seats by themselves and walk to the door!” he replied.

“Oh right…..Damn it!!”

Also – can I still look like shit? Or do I need to start getting my act together?  For a long time after I had S – people would ask me how old he was and I would say the wrong age.  For example, if he was 7 months I would say 3 months – so people would think I looked good for having a 3 month old.  Or my favorite was when S was 6 MONTHS OLD!  and someone asked me when I was due.  I said “Next week!” And they were like – “Oh you look so good!”

How long can I call this “baby weight?”  I think when the last child is age 4, we have officially left the “baby-weight” stage and moved into the category of “Fat person.” 

Aside from the fact that I am morbidly obese – I also think that I have to try to look a little more presentable in the wardrobe department.  When I grab a shirt (from the pile of clothes in my room that I never seem to have time to put away) if there’s something on it, I don’t think I can say “Oh….the baby must have spit up on me!” when someone notices anymore. 

In general, I have pretty much let myself go.  I used to do weekly waxing appointments for lip,chin, brows, etc. color my hair every 2 weeks, cut every 8, manicure every week.  Now the best way I can describe my maintenance schedule is by showing you the picture below of my facial hair as of last week before I finally couldn’t take it anymore and waxed it.

If I don’t have babies keeping me up all night, who am I to have this kind of moustache? Or gray roots showing?  What’s my excuse to have my feet and toenails look like my grandfather’s?

For a long time having two baby boys 18 months apart, was something that got me off the hook.  I wore my weathered, ragged look like a badge of honor.   I was such a good mother – that I only could put all my energy towards raising these babies and had no time for frivolous matters like waxing my beard or putting together a matching outfit.   I mean how does Betty Draper do it?

I guess having these kids grow up has some disadvantages.  What’s next?  I’m expected to have a clean house?

10 things I love about you…

This post is written for a writing prompt from Mama Kat at Mama’s Losin It; in honor of my son S turning 4 next week! I cannot believe how fast this went!

So here goes – 10 thing I love about you…..

1 – Your infectious laugh – It started when you were just 10 months old, you laughed in a restaurant and the whole restaurant stopped talking and started laughing with you!

2 – Your “Jersey Shore –like” tendencies – like your affinity to wearing wife-beaters and the perfect tan that you were magically born with. The fact that when you were 2 years old you requested “sausage and coffee” for your birthday breakfast and that you pretty much refused to wear anything besides velour Puma track suits for a solid year.

Here you are at age 2 - Sauce stain and all.....

 3 – Your dance moves – Your fist pumping (see #2) and booty shaking brings a smile to my face every time.

4 – Your love for your mama – That you would rather be home with me all day doing nothing, than pretty much any other activity I bring to the table, secretly warms my heart.

5 – Your charm – Everywhere you go – you manage to have a following – (usually females!)

6 – Your ability to know every lyric of every song that you have ever heard – (Even if it’s S&M by Rihanna – and thank God those are your initials and I could tell you that it was a song about you……)

7 – Your love for music by all artists – that you know all the lyrics to the Beastie Boys songs  and also have a Bruce Springsteen poster up in your room.  That when people ask you who your favorite singer is you say “The Boss.”

This is "The Boss" Halloween costume I had to make on the fly when you were 2 - because you refused to wear your $50 Lightening McQueen costume

 8 – Your adoration for your big brother. That you ask me all day when he is going to be home and that your face lights up when you see him every time.

9 – Your inability to say  the right words.   Like when you tell me you are only going into the water up to your “nickels,” and that only “goyls” like Justin “Beaver.”

10 – Your honesty – When I told you that I would probably cry when you turned 4 because you aren’t my baby anymore – You said “OK – but not at the party because people will think that’s annoying.”

Happy Birthday to my baby boy!!

%d bloggers like this: