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Category Archives: Mother

Places you won’t find me this Summer


This week I am finally able to get into the summer mode.

On Wednesday, my family left for three days for a special trip.

tent

I stayed home.

When I first met Mr. Gaga he would speak fondly of his childhood camping trips with his sister and parents.  I firmly let him know in no uncertain terms that camping would not happen anymore if we chose to marry and have children.

Clearly, I am not equipped mentally or physically, to reside in a nylon facility with a rocky dirt bed, where I could be eaten by a bear at any moment.

I will never understand how such a trip could be enjoyable.

So off Mr. Gaga went this week with his father and my two beautiful safe children.  They were plucked from the safety of their beds and and their home and driven off into the wilderness to sleep in the great outdoors.

They had a blast. They played cards and catch and swam.  They didn’t bathe for four days, ate a lot of junk food and roasted marshmallows on a real campfire like they do in the movies.

I enjoyed my time at home watching Real Housewives with reckless abandon in the air-conditioning.

camping

Camping is not the only summer activity that I refuse to do.  There are several other activities that Americans do regularly under the guise of “summer leisure” that I find absolutely horrific.

For example:

SWIMMING WITH SHARKS:

I’m sorry but if you know full well that people are getting their legs bitten off regularly in waters near you, perhaps it’s time to just sit in your beach chair and read a book.

At what point do you disregard the huge signs letting you know that you are entering into shark-infested waters and just go take a swim?

This is called - don't put one toe in the water. Fly a kite. Read your magazine.  Take a bike ride. Don't be a stupid douchebag...

This is called – don’t put one toe in the water. Fly a kite. Read your magazine. Take a bike ride. Don’t be a stupid douchebag…

You are entering into the sea, where sharks reside and they consider you lunch.

Have you seen Jaws?  You will not beat the system dudes…

When Mr. Gaga first came to the beach on the Connecticut shoreline where I spent all of my summers, he was horrified.

When you grow up swimming in the Long Island sound you don’t realize that it’s not up to par.  Apparently to any individual who associates the beach with the ocean, it’s a huge disappointment.

The water is very still and devoid of surf.  It can be a bit green and murky and filled with seaweed.

“What the fuck is this? A pond?” Mr. Gaga asked incredulously the first time we stepped onto the pebbly sand.

“It’s the Long Island sound.” I shrugged.

“There’s no waves.” he said with disgust.

He’s right.

There’s no waves.

But guess what else there’s not…..

Sharks.

GOING TO HERSHEY PARK:

I fell for this Willy Wonka hoax last summer.  Expecting to be met with the smell of chocolate in the air and riding a tube down a lazy river filled with Hershey’s Special Dark, I was in for a rude awakening.

I couldn't wait for this delightful tour and was so excited to hear that we would receive a fresh off the presses piece of Hershey's chocolate at the end....

I couldn’t wait for this delightful tour and was so excited to hear that we would receive a fresh off the presses piece of Hershey’s chocolate at the end….

Meanwhile – it was all bullshit and the tour was fake with fake chocolate pouring out of fake machines.  We were devastated.  To add insult to injury – at the end of the tour we were promised a delightful chocolate treat.

We were carelessly handed this by a disinterested Hershey tour guide…

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

After that disastrous trip – I vowed I would not do these short little jaunts.  The only time I would take a summer adventure it would have to be good.

But I am just not wowed by any trips that other people seem to find enjoyable, especially…

CRUISES:

I mean I am sure people might miss the news sometimes.  So maybe you might not realize what you are getting yourself into…

But did everyone miss this report?

celebcruise

Or this one?

cruise

Or this one?

royalcaribb

Does this actually appeal to people??

I cannot think of a worse fate than to be stuck out to sea in a huge vessel filled with sick humans.

CRUISESHIP

This seems very unpleasant – yet millions of people continue to go on cruises.

It’s shocking.

GRAND CANYON:

I hear people often mentioning summer adventures involving the Grand Canyon.

I cannot think of something more terrifying.

“Let’s see – what should we do this summer?”

“I know! Let’s drive a goat up winding trails where we can fall to our deaths at any moment and then we can look at a huge dry dusty hole.”

gc

Um…No.

I think I am best suited to just stay put in my beloved Long Island sound.

There’s just nothing like a staycation….

HAPPY SUMMER!!! XOXO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA EVEN THOUGH I’M BORING AND LIKE TO STAY HOME….

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Sea Salt in the Wound


Every year to kick off the summer – one of my oldest friends and I hit the beach with our kids.

We grew up loving the beach together and we expect the same from our children.

We always envision this day to be us sitting in our beach chairs reading magazines and catching up while our children swim, make sand castles and entertain themselves all day.

This is us ...in our dreams.

This is us …in our dreams.

Inevitably as soon as we sit down they are bothering us.

“We are bored – can you dig a hole?” “My eyes have sand in them.” “I got stung by a jellyfish.” “Sam’s not sharing the shovel.” “Can we go crabbing?” “I’m hungry.”

This is what actually ends up happening....

This is what actually ends up happening….

And then just when we think everyone is happy and entertained…..”Can we get an ice cream? Can we get an ice cream? The ice cream man is here – Can we get an ice cream?” repeats endlessly by all four children until we can’t take it anymore and throw cash at them.

Then once they eat their ice cream they come around again peppering us with more requests.

“Can we go to the raft? Will you go to the raft with us? Can we go to the raft by ourselves? When will you come to the raft with us? How old do we have to be to go to the raft alone? When can we go to the raft today?”

It’s fucking endless.

The raft is a floating plastic square out in the middle of the Long Island Sound.  It is a destination that is hard to get to.  The water gets deeper and deeper and colder and colder as one approaches the raft.

I grew up going to this beach and going to the same raft myself.  It can be scary.  The clarity of the water, which isn’t great in Connecticut as it is – goes away completely as you go into deeper waters. I can remember last year  as a child pulling myself on the rope in the dark cold water and having a fleeting thought that a shark could be beneath me and I would never know until it was too late.

“Can’t we just let them all go together?” my friend pleaded with me after the kids asked us to go to the raft for the tenth time.  “The water is so cold – we can’t go with them.”

“No way.” I answered definitively.

After five more requests she was really pressuring me, “My daughter is almost 12 -she will watch them, just let them go so we can relax!” she begged.

So obviously I would never let my 8 and 9-year-old go to the raft alone.

I mean we quit swimming lessons this year because of the naked old men in the locker room.

I could never let them go that far into the ocean alone….

I tried to read my US Weekly and enjoy the sun after saying no 50 times.

“Mom will you come to the raft with us?”

What can I say? I am weak.

I am tired.

And I just want my children to shut the fuck up and leave me alone.

shutup

So we agreed that all of the children would hold onto the rope that went from the shore to the raft the whole time and that they would each have a raft.  I told the eleven-year-old child that she was in charge and directly responsible for any drownings or shark attacks.

All of the children agreed to the terms and off they went into the deep blue sea without any adults.

I watched them intently and made sure that they reached their destination and then I sat back and breathed a sigh of relief.

I saw them hanging out with the other kids on the raft and I was proud of them.  Dare I say it, I was proud of myself.  I mean they should be able to go to the raft.  I have spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars on swimming lessons so that they could survive in deep waters.

There they are - safe and sound.

There they are – safe and sound.

I sat back and read my magazine.

Life was great.

I looked up periodically and noticed after about twenty minutes that they had headed back to shore.

They arrived back to shore alive with no shark bites.

They walked over to us with their boogie boards full of life and independence.

“Great job guys!” I greeted them ecstatically.

“Mom there were kids on the raft that were so bad!” they answered as they reached for their towels.

“Why – what happened?” I asked casually.

“Well they were talking fresh,” the eleven year old reported wisely.

“What were they saying?” me and my friend asked with amusement.

The eleven-year old reached over to whisper in my ear.  I waited for her to say a curse or something benign that would not rattle me.  I mean clearly nothing could rattle me because cursing is a sport that I excel in regularly.

I leaned in happily ready to hear whatever these little raft children said.

Daughter-Whispering-In-Mothers-Ear

She told me quietly what a boy had said loudly on the raft for everyone to hear.

I screamed at the top of my lungs and fell off of my beach chair into the sand.

I blacked out from the horror.

top view of a slim woman is lying on the beach

When the children resuscitated me – I made her repeat herself.

“The boy said, “I’m going to F%*^& that girl in her P*#$&y”

I mean……

Here I am thinking I am letting my children loose into the ocean to survive the world of waves and sharks and tides….

Only to be met with the evils of teenage American sex-crazed children.

So what’s the lesson here?
I’m still not sure.

Is the lesson – let go. You can’t control everything.  Let your children go out into the world.  Let them swim. Let them experience the earth and the ocean and all that encompasses and you cannot possibly control everything that they will encounter…

Or is the lesson – never let them go.  Do not leave their side. Do not let them swim away into the sunset – enjoying and experiencing the world even if it includes un-pleasantries.

I am really not sure.

But for now I think they won’t be going back alone anytime soon.

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Making Mr. Gaga


I am just such a typical narcisstic blogger that I sometimes forget that the stars of this blog  my life – have feelings too.  They are real people.
Mr. Gaga is one of those people – he is a real live person that I am very thankful to have in my life.  So in honor of Father’s Day I am re blogging this post from two years ago – that describes how he came to be “Mr. Gaga.”

Because it’s Father’s Day I had to not ask Mr. Gaga to do anything, I had to not complain about anything in the house.

I had to not be bitchy or snippy.

I had to bite my tongue when he was watching Rocky in the middle of the day for no apparent reason, and I had to smile robotically when he said he had to go to my brother’s house at 2 o’clock in the afternoon “because smoking wings takes hours and we need to start early to have them ready for dinner.”

As a result I am totally mentally drained.

This week I am offering a very short and sweet tale.

Mr. Gaga wasn’t always Mr. Gaga.

He used to have his own hopes and dreams that didn’t include me.

Even after we were dating for a while, he repeatedly attempted to break it off.

“I don’t think we should go out anymore….we have to break up.” he would say.

“No.” I would answer back.

“I am going to go out with other people.” he would plead.

“Yeah, no…..you’re not.” I would calmly answer.

“I don’t like you.” he would say when he was at the end of his rope.

“Yes you do…you love me.” I would answer back.

It wasn't that I was completely insane...it was just that I knew we were meant to be....

It wasn’t that I was completely insane…it was just that I knew we were meant to be….

Finally when nothing he would say would stick he would just throw his hands up and say “Ok fine – forget it.”

I was always making this poor guy do things that he didn’t want to do.

I had visions of romance and love and I would make him to take me to fancy restaurants, buy me fancy gifts, write me fancy letters.

I was 19.

One night around the time that he kept trying to break up with me, I had planned a romantic night in watching movies in my college dorm while all of our friends were out at a bar.

We were about to start the movie, and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

When I came back Mr. Gaga was missing.

window

I looked out the window.

This guy was so determined to get away from me, he jumped out a second story window, landed in some bushes and I could see him running down the street towards the bar.

Thinking quick on my feet I tossed aside my lounge clothes and put on my “Break up shirt.”

*Because Mr. Gaga was frequently breaking up with me, I had special clothes I wore during tumultuous times, called “break-up shirts” that basically allowed me to go out naked, ensuring I would receive much attention from men out at the bar. 

Oh well, I'll just drink this whole bottle of vodka and I am sure someone else in this bar will be happy to watch a movie with me....

Oh well, I’ll just drink this whole bottle of vodka and then I am sure I will find someone else in this bar who will be happy to watch a movie with me….

In the end, no matter what he did, he just couldn’t manage to escape.

He stopped trying after a while, and we were in love.

Then we had kids, and though we still love each other, things can get hectic around here and sometimes I yell at him or act a smidge bitchy.

Also I started a mom blog in which he stars as “Mr. Gaga.”   I mean what more could a guy want?

Sometimes he might secretly dream of jumping out that window, running like the wind into the night and drinking shots and beers until he can’t stand up.

Thankfully, he no longer acts on it.

He’s learned over time that there’s no use trying to escape….he will be Mr. Gaga forever.

THE LESSON HERE IS A LITTLE STALKING NEVER HURT ANYONE AND CAN SOMETIMES PAY OFF! I am a lucky girl.  Happy Father’s Day to Mr. Gaga and all the Dads out there!  CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Nutella and Pepperoni here we come…


The kids have 2 days left of school.

Many mothers dread the end of school but I welcome it.  It means summer is near.  It means that there are days on the horizon that involve a good book on the beach while my children play in the sun and surf.  This is welcome change after we all had a long cold winter spent in some sort of institutionalized situation that involved fluorescent lighting.

After months of torture involving school PTO, horrible weather, spending hours and hours watching wretched baseball and basketball and soccer games, it’s time for some relaxation time!!  There’s a whole lot of bullshit shenanigans that go on during the school year….and I am done.

For example, I am no longer making anyone in this household a lunch.  Any of my longtime reader know how I feel about modern day “Lunch-making.”

When I had little babies if someone had complained to me about making their kids a lunch before they went to school for 8 solid hours, I would have slapped them.  Yet somehow it really sucks making lunches…it’s arduous and horrible.  It’s organic and peanut-free and packed in BPA Free pouches and healthy and perfect. FUCK YOU FAT KIDS AND MICHELLE OBAMA NOW WE CAN’T SEND TWINKIES AND CHIPS.     It’s just very labor-intensive.

ln the old days you could throw a PB&J in a brown sack.

Now some fucking asshole is sending their kid to school with this:

Is that a CAR? Made out of a piece of Wonder bread and a two grapes and a cheese??? Seek counseling.

Is that a CAR?  Or TITS?   I can’t quite figure this out – but it seems to be something made out of a piece of Wonder bread and a two grapes and a cheese??? Seek counseling  crazy lunch making mothers.

When I was complaining recently, a friend mentioned that she never made a lunch for any of her children, that range in age from 12 to 5!

“Mrs. Bell doesn’t make lunch for any of her kids!” I informed my lazy useless children that evening, “So maybe I should stop making lunch for you guys this summer…”

“I can make myself a Nutella sandwich everyday,” Michael said with a shrug.

“Yeah my sandwich will be Nutella with fluff and pepperoni….and I can eat Doritos,” Sam added seriously.

I pictured the dirty kitchen, everything covered with fluff, coupled with the extremely large consumption of red dyes and sugars in the described lunch.

"It's a deal," I said, "I will never make your lunch again."

“It’s a deal,” I said, “I will never make your lunch again.”

Laundry is another whole situation that will get better when school is over.  It’s not enough that everyone in the Gaga household has something to cover their butts and peeps in public.

NO!!!

These motherfuckers need specific items each morning!!!

“Mom can I have underwear?” “Mom can I have socks that match?”

I am just constantly peppered with stupid questions.

So I direct them to the baskets of clean laundry that I haven't folded yet.....

So I direct them to the baskets of clean laundry that I haven’t folded yet…..

On top of it – I am expected to have their baseball and soccer and football and basketball uniforms readily available and clean.

On top of that! Apparently boys wear “cups” that are constantly tossed in with the dirty laundry.  Said “cups” need to be found at a moment’s notice when the child needs to go to his practice or game.  This “cup” locator job is apparently my problem as laundress.

Maybe I should lose all the cups and let them experience life without a cup.

They might keep better track of things…

soccer

Now that all of the sports are done with, the stress of laundry deadlines is gone. I don’t care what people wear in the summer, I don’t care if they match, and better yet it’s flip-flop season so socks won’t be an issue again until September.

The other thing I won’t miss is the homework.

I have stated before that I don’t know how to do the math homework of my 2nd and 4th graders.

Even though I can’t really help them on paper, in theory I can help them by chasing them around telling them to do their homework or they will be huge homeless losers.  I also help them to understand the instructions of their homework and I am also often held responsible by teachers to “check their work.”

During the summer I don’t give a fuck about learning.  It struck me the other day at the book store when I saw a huge selection of workbooks that are available for “good” parents who make their children do math homework over the summer.

mathwork

Do you think that a girl doing a wheelie on her bike surrounded by numbers is going to trick me into becoming a math teacher over the summer?? It’s not.

I am certainly not doing any workbooks over the summer with my children.  If they forget everything they ever learned over the summer – is that my problem? No it’s not.  It’s their teacher’s problem.

I purposely did not become a teacher.

I also purposely live in America.

If I wanted my children to learn and be smart during the summer I would live in China.  I purposely live in America so that we can eat Nutella pepperoni sandwiches and spend the summer being fat and dumb and forgetting everything we ever knew.

I am looking forward to it.

Thank God another school year is over and the summer will start this week!!!!!JUST BECAUSE I CALLED MY WHOLE FAMILY FAT AND DUMB DOESN’T MEAN I AM A BAD MOTHER – CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE BEST MOTHER IN AMERICA!!

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Spirit Week Redux


YET AGAIN OUR HECTIC JUNE SCHEDULE IS DISRUPTED BY SPIRIT WEEK! THIS IS A REPOST FROM LAST YEAR.

June is hectic.

There’s a lot of baseball happening, coupled with end of the year school ceremonies and shows.  In addition, Mr. Gaga’s work schedule gets crazy in June and also my part-time job picks up as it’s a popular time of year for people who need “bras.”

We are just tired and hot and sick of everything – so I was secretly happy when Michael came home in the last week of MAY! and said that his teacher said there wouldn’t be any more homework.

“Why not?” I inquired.

“I don’t know….there’s a Jewish holiday?” he shrugged.

“What? The last day of school is June 19th..” I said looking at the calendar.

Printable-Blank-PDF-June-2014-Calendar

Is there a Jewish holiday that’s 20 days long? This sounds suspiscious….

Could it be that besides being Jewish your teacher is very lazy??”

“Oh well – I guess you won’t have to be stressed about homework during baseball season.” I sighed.

The next day Michael came home from school and ripped open his backpack excitedly to reveal a paper he had received from his teacher.

flier

He proudly put it on the refrigerator talking about how he would be wearing his Mets jersey to “sports day.”

I distractedly looked it over and went on to do something else.

I mean Spirit Week is nothing new.  We all participated in these days growing up so I wasn’t too interested.

This Monday started the week and the kids went off to school with their jerseys on and baseball hats.

They came home with tales of people with all sorts of fancy sports paraphernalia.

That night after dinner and showers, the kids were in their rooms busily preparing outfits for “Crazy clothes day.”  They both picked out mismatched outfits that they planned to wear backwards and Michael found a very funny hat in his closet.  He came out of his room with the outfit on to show me and Sam.

“Very wacky!” I chuckled.

He smiled to reveal the piece de resistance which was a pair of fake rotten teeth.

“Awesome Michael!!” I said, “This is a great outfit!”

Sam was quiet.  I looked over at him and asked what was wrong.  “His outfit is so good and mine is horrible!” he wailed bursting into tears.

Michael and I quickly found another “wacky hat” in the closet and that calmed him down.  Both boys put on their outfits and laughed at each other in the mirror.

It was time to go to bed.

“Wait!” Michael said as he peered at the paper outlining the rules of Spirit Week.

“No hats allowed!”

Screw you PTO!!!

Screw you PTO!!!

Sam threw his hat on the floor and threw himself on his bed in tears again.

“What stupid twat is behind these spirit rules?”  “No worries Sam!!” I said cheerfully while Michael frantically dug in his drawers to find something as exciting and wacky as the hat.

He came up with some shinguards and a headband and glasses that seemed to make Sam happy and the kids went to bed.

The next day they came home and were stressed out about Hawaiian Day.

I knew that neither child had a Hawaiian shirt and so I rummaged through their t-shirt drawers looking for something suitable.

“How about this?”

I held up a “JAWS t-shirt.  “Ugh, Mom – it’s not decade day.”

“I think Hawaiians have to watch out for sharks though…” I said as I pulled out two t-shirts that had surfboards on them. “Hawaiians definitely surf.” I said confidently.

They stared at me skeptically.

I pulled out bathing suits to pair with the t-shirts and Hawaiian leis leftover from Sam’s birthday party.

“Perfect!” I said proudly.

The next afternoon they came storming in.  Sam threw down his backpack with disgust.

“Mom – do you know that all the boys in my class had shirts on today with “Beach trees” and flowers on them?” he asked with exasperation.

“Ok – well since you aren’t Magnum PI- I am sorry that we didn’t have beach tree shirts available.” I answered back.

Does this like the kind of outfit that a 1st grader should have readily available?

Does this like the kind of outfit that a 1st grader should have readily available?

“And…” he continued, “this lei is made out of plastic.” he spat out while he took off his Oriental trading lei that cost 40 cents.

“Yeah…” I answered expectantly.

“Well, me, Michael and one other boy in the whole school had plastic leis!” he yelled.

“What are you talking about?” I asked with confusion.

“Everyone else had REAL leis!” he yelled.

“What’s a real lei look like?” I asked positive that he was very confused.

“They had real Hawaiian necklaces made out of real flowers! And girls had real flowers in their hair too!” he cried.

I stared at him in horror trying to figure out how people got their hands on real Hawaiian leis.

“And grass skirts!” he added.

“Ok Sam! Let’s just concentrate on the next day coming up – what is it?” I asked afraid to look at the evil spirit week flier.

“Oh, it’s decade day!” he said excitedly. “Me and my friends are going to be rappers.”

“Oh ok – from the 80’s- what will you wear?” I asked cheerfully.

He grabbed the ipad and found a picture of LL Cool J and explained that he would need gold chains and a hat.

Michael casually asked what decade the hippies lived in. I answered the 70’s and he matter-of-factly announced he would be a hippie.

This was the fourth night of this stupid ass week and I was at the end of my rope.

I went upstairs and stared at all of my gold chains leftover from the 80’s.  None of them looked like LL COOL J’s.

I thought about if I knew how to make a tie-dyed shirt and would it be ready in time for school tomorrow.

The answer was no.

I couldn’t take this week anymore, I was losing my mind.

I put the kids in the car. A quick trip to the nearest Party City and $40 later and everyone was happy.

The next morning when the kids got ready – I felt confident that there would be no complaints.

Clearly I was the best mother ever.

Their picture is blurred to protect their identity - but please know that there is a leather jacket, two sets of glasses, a peace necklace and a a gold ring and dollar sign necklace involved....

Their picture is blurred to protect their identity – but please know that there is a leather jacket, two sets of glasses, a peace necklace and a gold ring and dollar sign necklace involved….

I casually mentioned how annoying all of this was to my brother.

“Well that’s your fault – Mom would’ve rubbed her cigarette ashes all over my face and told me I was a bum.” he said with disgust.

“A bum? That’s not even a category…..” I answered.

“She would have said “there are bums in all decades and sent me on my way…” he quickly answered.

He was probably right – but like everything else with these children – I was succumbing to this over the top bullshit as a result of what the other parents were doing, creating an environment where my children think it’s normal to have a real fucking lei made out of exotic fresh flowers.

“So….did everyone love your outfits today?” I asked when the boys got home the next day.

“Oh yeah, three people had the exact same outfit as me in my class.” Michael mentioned casually.

“WHAT???” I screeched.  “So everyone is buying costumes at Party City for this?? It’s like Halloween?  No! It’s like a week of Halloween!” I said with disgust.

“What about you Sam?” I asked.

“Well – everyone wanted to wear my gold ring, but there was a kid in my class that wore a full Michael Jackson outfit and he had a red leather jacket and a glove that had sparkles all over it….” he answered with resignation.

I couldn’t wait for this week to be over.

“Ugh – what’s tomorrow?” I asked with disgust as we cleaned up dinner. “I can’t wait for this stupid week to be over, I wish Michael just had spelling homework and I didn’t have to work on full costumes every night like I am the costume designer for a Broadway show.” I complained to Mr. Gaga.

“Why?” he asked lightly.

“Well because apparently gone are the days when you can just wear a backwards shirt and a Mets t-shirt.  This is very intense!” I explained.

“I wish we were Jewish so we could have a 20 day holiday and the kids could just skip school….”

Mr. Gaga rolled his eyes.  “It’s about the kids being excited to go to school.”

“That’s the point of all of this? Are you fucking kidding me?? They stop teaching the children a solid month in advance of the end of the school year and then they think that if they dress up like they are at Woodstock then it will make a difference in their spirits?” I yelled.

Mr. Gaga ignored me as usual.

“Also – tomorrow is pajama day!! Why is it a treat to wear pajamas all day long? It’s slovenly and weird and disgusting.  How could that possibly lift anyone’s spirits?? Only losers that have no job and nothing to live for wear pajamas during the daylight hours??” I was getting very fired up.

Sam and Michael were already upstairs weighing their pajama options and Sam was once again for like the 5th time this week on the verge of tears.

“What now Sam?” I demanded.

“Well it’s just that my friends have pajamas that have different teams like the Giants or Jets on them….”he said quietly while he stared into his pajama drawer.  I picked out a pair of Superman and Mario Brothers and held them up.

“No, Mom those are embarrassing.” he pleaded.

Michael was having the same dilemma in his room.

“Ok well it’s going to be 85 degrees tomorrow, so I don’t know what to tell you.”

“We don’t wear NFL licensed sleepwear during the summer -and I’m not buying you pajamas for this stupid day.” I snipped while pulling out the clothes that they usually wear.

“This is what you should wear tomorrow – because this is what you wear to bed and you shouldn’t be embarrassed about it.” I said tossing the bedclothes on their beds and turned on my heel.

They weren’t happy but they listened to me.

Fuck you pajama day and the horse you rode in on....

Fuck you pajama day and the horse you rode in on….

I don’t know if the kids’ spirits have been lifted or not by all of this hippie and Hawaiian bullshit but all I know is that I can use a break from the pressures of parenting school-age children!!

Onwards and upwards – we are halfway through the 20 day June Hanukkah so that means a mere 10 days left of school!!!

Thanks GOD!!!

DON’T ALL LITTLE BOYS WEAR TIGHTY-WHITIES AND BEATERS TO BED???CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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My bra is still wet….


It takes a lot to make a household run smoothly.  It takes a lot of remembering.

Remembering to launder baseball and soccer uniforms so that they are readily available, remember putting money into your child’s folder for a class gift, remember to pick up a birthday gift for your child’s friend, remember to bring your child to said birthday party.

There has been a lot on my plate lately between the children’s activities and my job.  Also, Mr. Gaga has been busy at work – so it’s a real juggling act to get everything and everyone where they need to be.

This week to add fuel to the fire – it was Sam’s birthday.  Historically birthday party planning really sends me,   anyone who crosses my path,  the household into major upheaval.  

But this year I was totally smart and ready.

I booked a party with our local Double A baseball team.  Sam chose 8 friends to bring to the game and all we had to do was arrive at the 3rd base gate at 6 PM and the team would let Sam throw the first pitch.   I ordered food ahead of time and the organization would bring cupcakes to the kids at their seats during the 2nd inning.

I literally almost had nothing to do…

So obviously I prepared a superstar “METS fan” baseball goodie bag…

baseball party goodie bag

Also – I prepared cupcakes for Sam’s baseball team, The Cubs, for Saturday.

cubs

One of the children that was on his team and going to his party needed gluten free cupcakes – so I prepared those too.  I carefully set aside one cupcake to bring to the birthday party so that he would have one during the game.

When Friday came – I went to work and ran around and squealed home on two wheels to be ready for the kids to arrive at 5 PM so that we could head to the park with plenty of time for Sam’s first pitch.

By 5:20 one child had not arrived.

We anxiously looked at our phones as we waited for this last straggler….

At 5:30 – we decided to leave.  The kid’s dad finally put-putted into the driveway with no sense of urgency.  I was totally stressed out at this point – and basically shoved the kid into the backseat of the car filled with seven year olds.  I should have known it was going to get wild when “late kid” hopped in the car saying “What’s up Mother-Fudgers!”

I peeled out of my driveway and realized that Sam wasn’t in my vehicle. I rolled down the window as Mr. Gaga was locking the front door and yelled out “Shouldn’t I have Sam with me? So he gets there on time?”

“Just go!” Mr. Gaga called.

I peeled out and sped to the park.  I literally drove at ungodly speeds (sorry for any parents that are reading – I am a very good fast driver) and got to a parking lot that was off the property at about five minutes before six o’clock.

“Should I park here? Will I get to the park at 6?” I asked the parking attendant.

She assured me that if I parked quickly and ran for my life I would get there.  I parked the car in the lot and ran through a field and over a small bridge and found myself near the stadium.

I just assumed Mr. Gaga was right behind me so I parked and screamed at the 5 boys that were with me and made them run as fast as possible towards the building..

As we approached the building we realized we were at the opposite side that we needed to be on.  I needed to meet someone named Steve at the 3rd base gate.

Did I mention it was 90 degrees?.

nb stdium

While normal people were leisurely entering the park – we ran by them at warp speeds, dripping with sweat – desperately trying to make it to the gate on time.

When I arrived Steve was waiting for me.

I stumbled up – dripping with sweat, kids in tow.

“Are you the Gaga party?” he asked.

“Yes.” I managed to spit out while catching my breath.

“Ok – is Sam here?”

I stared blankly at him. I looked at my phone. It was 6:00 on the dot.

“He’s with my husband – they are parking the car.” I answered vaguely.

“Ok – he needs to be here by 6:05 or he can’t do the pitch.”

I called Mr. Gaga immediately. “WHERE ARE YOU?!” I screeched.

“I’m at a light.” he answered casually.

“What the fuck does that mean? Where? What light? I told you that Sam should have been in my car?!!”

“Well – I’m at the light.” he answered.

If I could have reached through the phone and murdered him I would have.

“Ok – they are here – just parking,” I lied to Steve after hanging up on Mr. Gaga.

Two minutes passed as I frantically watched car after car drive into the stadium parking lot.

I called back.

“I’m still at this light – I am stuck behind all these cars.” he answered casually.

It was 6:02.

“Are you at the edge of the parking lot?” I asked impatiently.

“Yeah – I guess.” he answered.

parkinglt

“If I run to the edge of the parking lot and back do you think I will make it back in like 3 minutes?” I asked Steve.

Steve shrugged.

I turned on my heel and ran like the wind.

running

I ran to the edge of the property and grabbed Sam and his two friends and we ran as fast as we could back towards Steve.

I was truly dripping with sweat….the kids were stumbling and I kept screaming for them to keep up.  People stared at us as we ran by them as we got closer to Steve. When we crashed through the gate my makeup was running down my face and my bra was filled with pools of sweat.

“We are here!” I squeaked as we rounded the corner right into Steve’s space.

He took one look at me and said “Oh jeez…this is……um…bad.”

sofia

There was no time for apologies about my appearance – I had to get Sam to the pitcher’s mound!!

baseballfield

WE MADE IT!

The whole group of us tumbled on to the field. Steve was going to argue that only the birthday boy could go onto the field but then he took another look at me

sofia

and he just shrugged and let us all on.

I finally breathed a sigh of relief that we had made it and then I gulped when I saw the distance between the pitcher’s mound and the catcher.  Sam was thrilled and he actually threw the ball and it reached homeplate no problem.

As we headed back to our seats I was walking behind Sam and I had a minute to reflect on how old he actually was. For a moment I watched him walk and I felt like he was a teenager – where was my little baby Sam?!

sam

We headed to our seats and happily ate hot dogs and watched the game.  It was the end of the first inning when I realized that the cupcakes would be coming shortly and that in the hurry – I had left the precious gluten-free cupcake in the car.

“You have to go to the car and get the gluten-free cupcake,” I demanded of Mr. Gaga, “I already ran like 5 miles tonight and my bra still has the Pacific Ocean in it.”

I pointed vaguely towards the trees where we had entered into the park – “The car is that way.”

After about twenty minutes I texted Mr. Gaga to see what the hold up was.  The cupcakes arrived for the other children yet there was no sign of Mr. Gaga.

gaga

The gluten-free child stared at me expectantly, “Where’s Mr. Gaga with my cupcake?” he asked sweetly.

“I don’t know sweetheart…I ran from my car all the way around the whole stadium and then all the way out to the edge of the parking lot and back in 5 minutes – but it apparently takes Mr. Gaga 30 minutes to pick up one very small gluten free cupcake.”

He stared at me blankly.

Finally after 45 minutes!! Mr. Gaga returned.

“Where’s the cupcake?” I asked trying to remain calm.  “I couldn’t find your car.” he said with disgust as he sank into his stadium seat.

MDF407_killyyou1

We barely spoke the rest of the night.  Why am I literally!! running around like a maniac to make sure everything is perfect and Mr. Gaga is sabotaging me at every turn?!

I chalked up to him just being a man and he chalked it up to me forgetting the cupcake in the first place.

At the end of the night we dropped of all of the happy children and went home.

I peeled off my sweaty clothes and took a shower and when I went in to kiss Sam goodnight, my heart leaped.

There was my huge, grown-up 8 year-old son.

Holding on to his childhood toy -“bear-y.”

beary

And another great year has flown by……but he’s still my baby.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAM!!! CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE FUNNIEST AND BEST!!!! MOTHER IN AMERICA!!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Am I a Clown? Here to Amuse You?


Sometimes when I blog, I feel as though I am putting my stuff out into the universe and the universe hears me…..

and laughs.

After posting last week about how the PTO at my children’s school can go shit in a hat, I was happy to be able to put the chapter of my life behind me where I help with school activities.

Monday morning I looked at my phone and realized that my new resolve to not help others would have to begin on Tuesday.  I had volunteered to help in Sam’s art class.  Helping in the classroom was definitely different than helping the PTO – but still…

Also – many times I have shown up to help teacher’s that supposedly need help desperately, and they actually don’t need help at all.  After I cut short my time to run errands or do something that I need to so that I can scramble to get to the school, I often find myself standing in the classroom with nothing to do.

I will help kids cut something out or erase something or various other art-related tasks that in the 1980’s we would have completed on our own.  In those days “mothers helping in the classroom” was not invented yet.  Not only did our moms not come to our classroom to help the professional people who were getting paid to teach their children, even when we got home they didn’t help us.

We actually did our work in school and out of school …..by OURSELVES!

Here, children in the 1980's complete their homework surrounded by TAB and second-hand smoke and zero parental involvement.

Here, children in the 1980’s complete their homework surrounded by TAB and second-hand smoke and zero parental involvement.

I digress.

Monday as I was helping a little boy draw a fish, the little girl next to him said to me in a hushed tone of voice,

“Do you know? I actually don’t think that the Boston Tea Party was a tea party?” she looked up from cutting her fish waiting for my reaction.

“Oh really?” I played along.

“It wasn’t a party…it was a war!” she whispered with wide eyes.

“A wart?!” another little boy interjected.

She continued cutting her fish and looked up calmly.

“Well I do have a wart on the bottom of my foot….it used to be white, but now it’s brown.” she said seriously and quickly changing the topic.

All the kids at the table squealed with laughter and even I chuckled a bit.  I reflected on my vow to never help again and thought it wasn’t sooo bad helping at the art class.

When I got home I was met with an email from a very nice mother that just happened to be a member of the PTO requesting my help at the upcoming school fair.

Because she is a very nice woman and she peppered me with lies such as “I know you work well with children,” I suddenly found myself clicking the link that would allow me to volunteer for this fucking nightmare.

I figured even though I cannot face paint and I don’t enjoy spending time with strange children, it would only be 30 minutes…how bad could it be.

This email is to remind you that you are signed up for the following slot on Fun Fair 2015″:

Wed, 05/20/2015 5:30PM – 6:30PM EDT 

— Face Painting Station

To view the SignUpGenius form, go to: 

www.SignUpGenius.com/

“Fuck!” I shrieked to Mr. Gaga when this confirmation email popped up.  “This dumb “Sign-up Genius” tricked me into being the school clown for one hour!”

Mr. Gaga laughed with the universe at my demise.

“So now I blog about how I hate helping the PTO and the next thing I know I am a full blown clown.” I sighed.

I had to accept my fate so I prepared mentally to entertain the children.

"What have I done to deserve this?" I asked Mr. Gaga one more time before I left for the fair.

“What have I done to deserve this?” I asked Mr. Gaga one more time before I left for the fair.

When Sam, Michael and I arrived at the fair- I headed to the face painting table assuming I would be met with brushes and easy picture ideas to choose from.

Instead I found this:

kit

I was totally screwed.  I ripped open the package as an angry and bratty mob of children headed my way.

Sam and Michael, sensing a pending disaster, ran for their lives off to the dunk tank, leaving me in the dust.

“I’ll take that.” the first child said bossily pointing to the witch face on the package.

“Yeah  – no…I can’t do that.”

While she pondered what to get a little boy sat in the chair next to me.  “Can I please have a lizard?” he asked sweetly.

“Um…no,” I said with exasperation, “How about a rock? Just like a very small pebble?” I tried to convince him.

He stared back at me blankly.

“A lightning bolt?” I pleaded.  He agreed and I clumsily drew a jagged line down his cheek.

“Ok – I’ll take this,” the bossy girl was back and this time she was pointing to the vampire picture on the box.

“Fine…sit down.” I conceded and did my best to create bloody fangs on her face.

“Okay can you take my picture so I can see it?” she demanded when I finished.

I obeyed.

She stared at the picture serenely and ran away.

Next up, “Can I have a panda?”  a little girl said patiently waiting while I googled “How to draw a panda face.”

The torture never ended.

“I’ll take Batman…” “I’ll have a NY Giants Football”…..”I’ll have dog.”

The vampire girl then returned when I was about half-way through my shift.

“Did you get any better yet??” she demanded.

“Um…no why?” I answered.

“Well I want you to do it again – but better this time….I figured by now you would be better at this.”

“Well I haven’t attended a cinematic makeup school since you left….so no.” I answered shortly, while the line grew behind her. Still she made me give her a “touch-up.”

This is as good as it gets kid...hit the road and don't come back.

This is as good as it gets kid…hit the road and don’t come back.

Next up a mother wandered over with her son.  She gently nudged him into the chair.

“Go ahead Cayden tell her what you would like.” she said in a sing-song voice.

The boy stared at me silently.

“See the pin he’s wearing?” she said proudly.  I looked at his shirt and I saw that he was wearing a huge circle pinned to his shirt – it was clearly a laminated picture that he had drawn.

“That’s a cat that Cayden drew in art!” the mom said excitedly, “And he would like that exact picture on his cheek!”

What the hell?

Are you fucking kidding me?

I scribbled and smudged on his cheek, sweating bullets while the mother peered over my shoulder beaming with pride.

When I finished there was a huge black blob with ears and a tail on this kid’s cheek and I quickly sent him on his way.

“What time is it?” I asked one of the mothers, as the cat-pin mom had sent me over the edge.

“Oh, it’s 6:30.” a mother answered casually while she waited for me to get started on her child’s face.

“Oh – I have to leave – sorry.”

fizbo running

Sometimes it takes me a few tries before I learn….

The universe has spoken.

And I got the message loud and clear.

I HAVE DONE ENOUGH FOR THESE PEOPLE!!!  HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY! PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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