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Category Archives: motherhood is exhausting

Joy to the Girls


My young pregnant and somewhat newly married cousin was upset with her husband on Christmas Eve.

“What’s wrong?” her mother asked.

“Well I was upset because I like wrapped everything and Bob didn’t help me.” she answered indignantly.

laughing

When we all stopped laughing we broke the news to her.

He will never help during the holidays….It will only get much worse.” we warned her.

She stared back at us with unbelieving eyes.

She will have to learn the hard way.  She will soon learn that Christmas time is a treacherous time that can almost end in divorce if you are not careful.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her just how bad it will be.  You will not only be upset that you will wrap every single gift yourself.

How do you think those gifts will even get to your house? Do you think that your husband will go get them?  Do you think he will give one ounce of thought towards gifts for his flesh and blood children? Or his family?

No he won’t.

I personally thought of each and every gift that would be given and I personally went to purchase each item.  When I couldn’t find what I needed  I would search online and buy items at night while Mr. Gaga and the children slept with sugar plums dancing in their heads.

I only asked Mr. Gaga to do one thing.

Michael had asked Santa for a very expensive Lego Set.  I had ordered it right after Thanksgiving because I am very efficient.

I noticed that the package had arrived one day when I got home from work.  I discreetly asked Mr. Gaga to hide the box somewhere so the kids wouldn’t find it.

“When you hide the box – will you just peek in to make sure it’s the right Legos for Michael?” I asked, as I wasn’t entirely sure that I had gotten the right set.  The kids are obsessed with all Star Wars related Legos – and Michael had requested an Ewok Village, and I wasn’t entirely sure I had gotten the right item.

When Mr. Gaga came up from the basement later – he assured me that the Legos in the box were the right ones.

Fast forward to December 23rd.

My back was broken while I wrapped the 50th gift.  Mr. Gaga was watching television in the kitchen enjoying his life.

I opened up the box that the LEGOS came in.  I pulled out the box that was supposed to be an Ewok Village.

This was in the box....I see no Ewoks here.

This was in the box….I see no Ewoks here.

I thought my head would explode.

I entered into the room where my enemy was seated watching television oblivious to the pressures and demands of the holiday season.

“I am going to murder you right now – so be prepared.” I announced holding the wrong Legos in my hand and a box cutter in the other.

Mr. Gaga glanced up at me – unafraid.

“I ASKED YOU TO DO ONE THING!!!” I screamed.  “ONE THING!!”

“AND BECAUSE I TRUSTED YOU TO DO ONE THING!! YOU HAVE ONCE AGAIN RUINED CHRISTMAS!!!!”

When I shoved the Rancor Pit LEGOS into Mr. Gaga’s face and demanded an explanation, he answered, “I never heard him say he wanted the Ewok Village,” with not a care in the world.

“You didn’t??” I asked incredulously. “Well – since you pay no attention to what’s going on around here – it’s in FUCKING WRITING to SANTA!!”

I ran upstairs and found Michael’s letter to Santa and came down with it and threw it at Mr. Gaga hysterically.

He read the letter serenely.

He looked up and shrugged.

“Well – I never knew he wanted that.” he said as he tossed the letter onto the kitchen table.

“I am going to fucking kill you.” I screeched. “I can’t trust you to do anything!!!”

I think at this point he started fighting back and telling me about all of the stuff that he does, but I had blacked out from anger and went to upstairs.

I was beside myself.

How could I fix this?

The next day was Christmas Eve and when I googled the “Ewok Village” I found out it was $250.00

I couldn’t just go out the next day and shell out that much money on an extra gift! And plus – would I even find it?

Then I thought of a great solution!

The one thing that I hated most during the holiday season – might actually save me.

The one being that could actually help me right now – was NOT my husband.

It was in fact …….

 

THE ELF.

Who would think this fucking asshole would save the day??

Who would think this fucking asshole would save the day??

I wrote in my most elf-like handwriting a elf-ish note about a mix-up in Santa’s workshop – and would Michael please forgive the elf for mixing things up….

He accepted the mix up – Thank you JESUS!!

I decided to speak to Mr. Gaga the next day – because otherwise Christmas would be completely destroyed.  I have to remember for next year – that he LITERALLY cannot do ONE thing related to Christmas or everything will be ruined and we will get divorced.

And it’s not just me.  It’s women across the land.

Men just don’t seem to engage in the holiday hustle bustle.

Why would they??? We do EVERYTHING for them!!

Are they assholes?

Or are we?

I work in a retail environment and if I had a dime for every woman throughout December bought herself something and told me she was putting the item into her own stocking…..

We have even given up on the men actually buying OUR gifts!!

One year I gave Mr. Gaga no direction and thought “If he loves me then he must pay attention to what I enjoy and like and he will get me something that I really deserve and love.”

Guess what he put in my stocking that year!

Just guess!

I will give you a hint….

It’s large enough to fill most of the stocking…..

It’s orange……

It rhymes with “Boda”

 

WHAT. THE. FUCK?

“WHAT. THE. FUCK?”

We almost got divorced that year.

“But you really like orange soda!” Mr. Gaga said as his defense.

“I can buy my own soda – you fucking asshole!” I screeched as I threw the soda out the window and buried my head under a blanket and cried.

I cancelled stockings after that in order to save my sanity and my marriage.

And now I have learned that hints and suggestions are for the best.

And now my heart soars that he even picked up the hint.

Gift cards are welcome here.

(Preferably to places that I frequent.)

And thank God Mr. Gaga actually realizes that after 19 years of togetherness.

I was showered with gift certificates, the kids were showered with various games and toys, Michael was showered with the WRONG LEGOS and all is right with the world.

FA LA LA LA LA.  Until next year…..

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Well played


When Sam and Michael were younger and I wasn’t working, time seemed to stand still.

If they woke up early, as they usually did, I would sometimes hope it was dinnertime and it would only be 9 am.

I was not really ever the type of person that enjoyed children. I didn’t really ever envision myself staying home all day with babies and toddlers and playing with them.

But I did it.

I would care for them and play with them and by the time Mr. Gaga would get home I was practically catatonic. I always used to recite my favorite scene from Overboard when he got home….he usually didn’t think it was too funny.

I don't belong here. I feel it. Don't you think I feel it? I can't do any of these vile things and I wouldn't want to! My life is like death! My children are the spawn of hell and you're the devil. Oh, God..

I don’t belong here. I feel it.
Don’t you think I feel it?
I can’t do any of these vile things
and I wouldn’t want to!
My life is like death!
My children are the spawn of hell
and you’re the devil.
Oh, God..

I really meant it.  I would stare at him and say over and over again “I feel it!! Don’t you think I feel it?”

Just for my own entertainment really.

But the next morning I would start anew all of the pleasures of being home with small children.

I did everything I could possibly think of to entertain them and myself.  I would do anything to get out of the house and speak to adults…I would have gone to a hanging.

I joined horrendous playgroups, mom groups, playdates and activities. I took them to classes at the library and at an art studio, we would go to the farm and the park, music classes and gymnastics.

When those activities were over I would spend hours on end on the floor in their rooms doing puzzles, coloring, and playing restaurant. I would read them books and do flashcards to learn the alphabet.

I would play Thomas the Train and matchbox cars and Lightening McQueen, I would build buildings out of blocks and forts out of blankets and chairs. We would play marching band and we would sing Wiggles songs and the theme song from the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

When it was nice out we would spend hours playing outside. I would take them for walks and pull them in their wagon. I would push them on the swings and chase them up and down the driveway and play hide and seek. I would watch them ride their tricycles and push their bubble mowers. I remember being utterly exhausted, sitting on the driveway in a patch of sunlight doing chalk drawings over and over again. When that got too boring we would blow bubbles and try to catch them. We would collect rocks and pinecones while exploring.

When it was hot out I would fill up baby pools and set up sprinklers and watch them splash in the water.

The other day was the first day that it was warm enough to play outside without a jacket. The kids drew a four-square court and invited Mr. Gaga to play while I prepared dinner.

I went outside to ask Mr. Gaga to light the grill.

“Mom, please play four square with us!” Michael pleaded.

It was nice out and I was in no rush to make dinner.

“Ok – I will play a couple of rounds – but then I have to get dinner ready.” I agreed.

So there we were in the front yard on the driveway having a family friendly game of foursquare.

 

Whenever we all play an outdoor game together Mr. Gaga sings "As long as we got each other..." very loudly which was the song playing during the Hogan Family's football game...

Whenever we all play an outdoor game together Mr. Gaga sings “As long as we got each other…” very loudly which was the song playing during the Hogan Family’s football game…

 

The game went well – we all headed inside and we sat down to dinner shortly thereafter.

A few minutes into dinner Michael said, “You know Mom – tonight when you played foursquare with us……..”

“Yes lovebug…” I replied.

“That was the only time you ever played with us.” he finished his statement and continued to eat his chicken.

 

 

 

I nearly choked.

I looked over at both kids while they calmly ate their dinner.

“Do you people even know that I spend 6 solid years of my life home playing with you and taking you places and doing everything for you?” I spat out.

“No…I don’t remember that.” Michael said confidently before biting into his roll.

“Oookaaay….well I did. I took you to the library, and the farm and the daycare at the gym science museum…….and I read to you and played with you outside practically every day of your life!”  “I took you for bike rides and walks and took you to every park in town a million times!” I said with desperation looking at both children for a flicker of recognition or acknowledgement.

Sam calmly looked up from his dinner and said “Well…you don’t do any of that now.” and took a bite of chicken.

And what could I say to that.

He was right.

Before this little foursquare outing I hadn’t really “played” with them in about a year.

I dropped my fork and sat back in my chair – speechless.

All those torturous hours and endless days of playing with my children……for nothing.

I thought back to all of the other mothers I spent time with and spoke to that made me want to gouge out my eyeballs…all for the sake of my children.  All of the horrible playdates I sat through, all of the horrific toddler classes at the library surrounded by snot-nosed children sitting on the filthy floor, the hours spent chasing them around the park.

And to think they don’t remember one thing I ever did with them.

So I did what any woman in her right mind would do…

 

theresa

theresa2

 

Just kidding …I only did that in my mind.  

But it’s a tough pill to swallow.

All that time and effort and I could have totally ignored them and watched tv and read US Weekly all day for the same results.

Then it dawned on me.  This is why I have two children.  So they can play with each other!! My mother never played with me!!

These jerks are trying to get me down and lay a guilt trip on me and I have learned a valuable lesson.

Now that I know they suffer from severe memory loss…..

I will never play with my kids again.

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What I learned in 2013….


It’s time for my annual year in review.

I am lucky to have this blog so I can go back and see what happened in my life throughout the year and see what mattered to all of you. Here is the blow by blow recap:

JANUARY 2013 – In the beginning of 2013 we started preparing for Michael’s first holy communion and I was met with the ugly truth behind the Catholic church’s planning for date selection. I almost got killed during the “Sign-up for Communion date” meeting – but I got the date I wanted so it worked out….

These women ended up not getting the date they wanted because they had to be rushed to the emergency room..The cross above their heads is a symbol of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Jesus died on the cross for us. On nights like this one, I am sure he’s wondering if that was a bad move….

These women ended up not getting the date they wanted because they had to be rushed to the emergency room..The cross above their heads is a symbol of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Jesus died on the cross for us. On nights like this one, I am sure he’s wondering if that was a bad move….

2 – In February, just when I was starting to doubt Jesus and his almighty powers, I was saved and all was made right in the universe when Kim Kardashian was impregnated by Kanye West.

I still find it shocking that Kim wants to be wrapped up with this narcissistic asshole but I guess she will eventually figure this out the hard way…..

I wrote her a very special letter to warn her about what she could expect…

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3 – In February we were met with yet another Northeast weather disaster.  This particular catastrophe was a BLIZZARD!  Per usual people lost their fucking marbles while they attempted to prepare for 3 FEET of SNOW!!!

By the time I got to the local grocery store this was what the banana stand was like …just so you can see how insane people behave during inclement weather…..

banana

I know that bread and milk were sold out – but now you are all going to live off of bananas? And who’s the wise guy that just left behind a plantain and a box of firecrackers???

4 – In March, everyone was all abuzz about the book “Leaning In” which detailed how women of today could totally focus on their career and succeed!! I found that I was much better at “leaning out.”

This was the last time I "leaned in" for something. I was trying to listen to the weather report to be sure I heard correctly that my kids would have their 10th day off from school due to snow.

This was the last time I “leaned in” for something. I was trying to listen to the weather report to be sure I heard correctly that my kids would have their 10th day off from school due to snow.

5 – In April we went to Disney World.  Boy, was I in for a real education on American behaviors.  I relayed my astonishment regarding the HUGE BEVERAGES that were served in Disney World and the HUGE HUMAN BEINGS that were zipping around on carts.

Some of you got pissed about that…..

Sorry! I just report as I see it fat people!

mickeyfam

Look how this guy balances his massive soda with a broken hand!! These injured people are so determined!!!

6 – In May, we finally had Michael’s communion after much hard work. (see above)

It went well except for when I lost all of my photos to document my good holy works, thank Jesus I still had my pic of the holy cross made out of pepperoni…

What more could Jesus want from me?? I mean if this cured meat cross doesn't secure my place in heaven then I give up....

What more could Jesus want from me?? I mean if this cured meat cross doesn’t secure my place in heaven then I give up….

7 – As the summer approached I may or may not have bumped up my drinking and bumped down my parenting…

If the kids found me like this in the morning they just made their way to camp on their own...it's called building independance in children....They will thank me one day.

If the kids found me like this in the morning they just made their way to camp on their own…it’s called building independence in children….They will thank me one day.

8 – Toward the end of the summer, we started to get ready for back-to-school, which is when I once again noticed how offensive the Pottery Barn Kids catalogue was…..

In the classic Pottery Barn style which aims to make us feel badly about our homes, bedding, and lives….the PB Kids version, now aims to make us feel bad about our kids lunches and what we put them in……

This blog went VIRAL!! It was my hit of the year – and I know it’s because we all feel the same angst about lunch making in America.

Really?? It's not enough that this lunch consists of yuca chips and cherry tomatoes? If my mother ever put a note in my lunch that said I was a "kind person" I would kill her.

Really?? It’s not enough that this lunch consists of yuca chips and cherry tomatoes? If my mother ever put a note in my lunch that said I was a “kind person” I would kill her.

9 – In the fall one of my good friends had a baby.  I went to visit her and noticed that sometimes new mothers go a little crazy when it comes to first baby nursery decor.  Many of you were VERY ANGRY about my commentary…but many of you were VERY LAUGHING at how fucking stupid it all is….This is why I LOVE MY READERS!!!

Please note the newborn size tiara's on the shelf...I believe that tiara was placed on the baby's head as it was crowning to be sure that she knew immediately that she was a princess....

Please note the newborn size tiara’s on the shelf…I believe that tiara was placed on the baby’s head as it was crowning to be sure that she knew immediately that she was a princess….

10- Finally in December, while I juggled all that I had to do I realized that this ELF ON THE SHELF was really putting things over the edge for me.  I wrote an open letter to the clever Elf creators…..

You guys think you and your elves are just so damn cute....All I see here are three twats with double chins....

You guys think you and your elves are just so damn cute….All I see here are three twats with double chins….

Everyone loved this…This was my number 2 post of the year!!( only second to Pottery Barn lunch post.) What does that tell me??

That mothers in America are tired!!  We don’t have time for stupid bullshit like daisy sandwiches and Elf games!! We are smart, busy people that value our time and energy!!!

In closing, it has been a great year for Lady Goo Goo Gaga, and I hope to continue learning and growing and sharing my stories.

Thank you all for reading every week!! And for CLICKING ON THE BANNER BELOW!!!!

Happy New Year!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Final sign that childhood is dead, Mothers take over recess….


The first time I had an inkling that modern-day parenting had gone haywire was when I took my son to a playground for the first time.

I distinctly remember like it was yesterday my toddler making his way up and around the playground apparatus. I raced around on the ground around the jungle gym trying to anticipate his next move so that I could be there to catch him if he fell or hurdled his body off in the wrong direction. I was exhausted, running circles around this thing trying to avoid his untimely death.

After about ten minutes, I thought “This is really tiring – how do people do this?”

I looked around and noticed that there were several mothers actually on the playground with their kids.

I was the only mom on the ground.

Huge women were plunging through tunnels, going down the slide and talking into the speaker piece on ground level, requesting cheeseburgers and coffees from their child on the other side.

This mom was having WAY too much fun.....

This mom was having WAY too much fun…..

I held my toddler and stared at these women with my mouth open in shock and awe. Not one child was playing with another child, every child had a huge adult counterpart to play with. It was as though I was living a creepy Alice in Wonderland type nightmare. It was insane.

I think this mom crushed her child to death on the way down....

I think this mom crushed her child to death on the way down….

I spent many years at said playground.

You too Jennifer Garner?? Really??

You too Jennifer Garner?? Really??

If you take notice you will find at playgrounds all across America, there are inevitably mothers on the equipment posing as playmates for their young children.

I have been guilty of it myself.  When the kids would ask me to play with them – I have been known to order a dirty martini over the microphone or take a couple swings on a tire swing.

But as my children are older, I have come to realize that this playground play is exactly where the trouble starts.  We are setting these kids up for disaster by not letting them learn to PLAY ALONE!!!

These poor kids didn't have a mom to play with so they didn't know what to say or do.  They just quietly pretended they were taking showers.....

These poor neglected kids didn’t have a mom to play with so they didn’t know what to say into the microphone.  With nobody ordering lattes on the other end – they didn’t know what to do so they just quietly pretended they were taking showers…..

My third grader has had some recent difficulty navigating the social scene during recess.

He sits at an assigned seat at lunch at his institutionalized lunch table eating prison food (if he buys) and then he files out the door (like a prisoner) to recess. Here he searches for kids who he knows from lunch or class to play with.

However, it seems that “play” doesn’t come easily for a generation of kids used to ordering french fries from their mother on the playground for 5 years.

While some kids play games or sports, he tells me about the group of kids that are cub scouts that go off and talk about their “secret Cub Scout stuff.”  It seems that kids seem to pair off with specific agendas and cannot be swayed to do something else or play with someone else.

My son was friends with these kids in kindergarten that ended up being in a  weird cub scout cult in 3rd grade and he is not now, nor will ever be a cub scout.

As you can imagine Mr. Gaga is not about to wear some weird pinned shirt with “nut hugger shorts” so Cub Scouts is not part of the acceptable Gaga activity list.

This leaves Michael at a loss of what to do during recess, as the “supercool cub scout kids” won’t let him play with them because they are busy talking about secret “cub scout stuff.”

Initially he thought that he should join the cub scouts and that would solve his problems – but we quickly put the kibosh on that…

If this is what it takes to have friends at recess - then sadly he will playing alone for the rest of his life....

If this is what it takes to have friends at recess – then sadly Michael will playing alone for the rest of his life….

“I don’t know – maybe it will be fine, I mean what did you do during recess in 3rd grade?” I asked Mr. Gaga.
“I don’t know – played kickball…” he answered. “What did you do?”

“Well…..I don’t remember……I remember one time we were at recess and this girl who had like 6 older brothers and sisters told us there was no such thing as Santa Claus and then one time a kid was swinging and he jumped off the swing in the air and broke his arm, and I also I remember that there was a clear glue that was oozing out of the bricks on the school building – and we used to pretend it was gum. We would run up to the wall and say “Oh…it’s gum!” and run away.”

He stared at me with disgust. “Well, I think it’s safe to say where he gets his recess troubles…”

He could be right.

We have helped guide him with ideas and suggested other kids to play with.  It is sad to imagine him drifting alone on the playground, I desperately want him to be happy during the mere 20 minutes of freedom that he has during his long days as a prisoner of “core curriculum training.”

While I have not been happy about his recess struggles, I chalk it up to being a fact of life, and something that he has to figure out.

While Mr. Gaga and I are able to rationally sit down and discuss things and get to the root of our troubles (my poor recess skills as a child and our mutual disdain for the cubscouts) – the rest of this town can’t seem to get it together.( What else is new?)

You remember how I live in a town filled with people who don’t cut their children’s hair, who throw out their dining room sets to make room for play, and tell their two-year-olds that Santa doesn’t exist?

It seems Michael is not the only child having social difficulty during recess.

In the latest act of helicopter parenting – parents have complained about recess enough that the principal of an elementary school in town has sent out a request for parent volunteers for recess.

You heard correctly.

Parent volunteers will be on hand during recess everyday – to guide children at play and help them decide who and what to play with.

I can’t believe that parents have once again decided to interfere and become involved with yet another arena that has nothing to do with them to protect their children.

No matter what troubles Michael might be having – the last thing I want is some bored stupid twat mother telling him what to do!!!

At what point will this generation of children be allowed to play or interact on their own? Isn’t enough that you went down the slide with them until they were 8 years old? Will anyone ever cut the cord??

I'll never let little Hunter swing alone....Never!

I’ll never let little Hunter swing alone….Never!

It is shocking and disappointing to think that one day this new policy might be in place at my children’s school as well.

Although it disgusts me and I find it beyond offensive to imagine children being herded into groups and told who to play with by some bored housewife….

I will have no choice but to volunteer to be sure that I am getting a chance to “help my kids play.”

Let’s hope that this policy doesn’t become the norm.

Believe me when I tell you….the last thing any of you want is for me to be a parent volunteer at your kid’s recess….

Go back over there and kick every single kid in the balls and tell them their mothers are fat whores....

They said you couldn’t play with them? Go back over there and kick every single kid in the balls and tell them their mothers are fat whores….

 

Linking up to Mama Kat’s Writer’s workshop for the topic of “RECESS”……

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JUST WHEN I THINK I MIGHT RUN OUT OF MATERIAL THE PARENTS OF TODAY SAVE THE DAY!! PLEASE CLICK THE LINK BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Christmas Tree Take 2


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

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

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

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

He has strict instructions to:

1- Take children to Christmas tree farm

2 – Pick out a Christmas tree

3 – Tie tree to vehicle

4 – Get back into the vehicle and return home

Do you think he can do it???

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

IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE….FOR MY HUSBAND

(reposted from 12/2011)

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

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

Also – I have had to let some things go.

Some activities I simply cannot do.

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

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

We spend the day at the farm tailgating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Gaga and my tree were NOT HOME YET.

Do you understand what I am telling you?

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

…….it was not FUCKING HOME.

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

I wanted to kick everything and murder my husband.

I trudged into the cold, dark house.

I turned on the lights.

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

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

The morning newspaper was strewn about.

The sink was filled with dirty dishes and……

wait for it……

the dishwasher needed to be emptied.

I went ballistic.

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

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

What’s the big deal? Why are you crying? Are you crying about coming home to raw chicken on the counter and a messy house or is it because I am an idiot?

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

Love in the Pumpkin Patch


The first fall I was living in Connecticut after living as a newlywed in New York for a little while, I thought it would be so fun and whimsical to spend a fall day at a pumpkin patch with Mr. Gaga.

The first mistake I made was to wear a cool outfit that I would wear to go somewhere in NYC – which of course included a pointy-toed boot with a spike heel.  I kept sinking into the muddy patch and could barely stand up straight – let alone bend over and pick up a pumpkin.

To add insult to injury, when I wasn’t twisting my ankle, or tripping on pumpkin vines, I was narrowly avoiding small children that were running around me in circles.  While I was trying very hard to be cute and romantic, there were 50 children around that I narrowly avoided crushing or poking their eye out with my stiletto.

Mr. Gaga was annoyed with me, “Why would you wear this outfit to go pumpkin-picking?” he grumbled between clenched teeth as he held me up by my elbow, helping me to not commit involuntary manslaughter on all of the children in the patch.

“Ugh – why are these children here – ruining our romantic time in the pumpkin patch?” I screamed as loud as I could thought to myself.

I remember sweating to death as the sun beat down on us while we waited in line to pay for our pumpkins and apple fritters, swatting at yellow jackets that swarmed around the whole facility.

It was not exactly what I had in mind, and Mr. Gaga swore he would never go again.

While I thought I was being cute and sexy at the pumpkin patch, Mr. Gaga wasn’t impressed.

I have since learned what is appropriate attire for “pumpkin patch day” – and have grown accustomed to going with children, sweating to death, and becoming completely filthy and exhausted from the whole ordeal.  All to come home with a couple of pumpkins to put on our front steps.

Today my best friends, A and L were in town and all of our husbands were doing something to entertain themselves, as usual, so we decided to try out a new place that offered a corn maze, and other activities outside of just pumpkin-picking.

“What should we wear?” I asked L.

“Well – A’s husband said that since it poured rain last night the whole place will be muddy.  We better wear our rain boots.”*

*Rain or shine – we will use any excuse to wear our rainboots. Let me just say that outside of the UGG – this whole “wear hideous rainboots as a fashion statement” trend is the best thing to happen to mothers since the double stroller. 

So off I went thrilled to move my foot out of a flip-flop directly into a rainboot – and excited for a fun day.

We were running late and when we arrived I parked the car quickly and we all got out of the car.  I had parked very close to the car next to me and I noticed there was a young couple sitting in the car, buckling their seatbelts getting ready to leave.

It was a tight squeeze -I saw the young woman watching me as I pushed the kids along in between the two cars. I was tempted to knock on the window and say “Enjoy your romantic Sundays, because once you get knocked up, it’s over honey.” but I thought better of it.

I thought back to when Mr. Gaga and I were young and those days of coming to the pumpkin patch with no kids.  I had a flashback to how I felt when I was a young newlywed enjoying a fall day with nothing to worry about except how I looked.  I looked at the actual pumpkin patch when we arrived and thought of how ridiculous I was to wear heels!!

Now – my looks are clearly the last priority as I arrived with a shirt, jeans and rainboots on what was shaping up to be a beautiful, HOT, SUNNY, DRY day….

When we arrived the kids had a blast just hanging out on huge haystacks for like a half hour!

Then off we went to the “corn pit.” As Michael explained later to my husband, “It was like a “corn box,” like a sandbox has sand in it – it was like that….except instead of sand, it was corn.”

Weird right?

It was corn-effing-tastic.

L is in the midst of building a house right now – and we all agreed that she would speak to her husband about adding a “corn-box.” to the backyard landscaping plan.

We spent hours rolling around in the corn….

It was magical.

There was something very relaxing about all of this corn….we took off our rainboots and dipped our feet in and pretended we were at the spa….(we don’t get out much.)

Of course – my children have to turn everything into the “Jersey Shore,” so while everyone was enjoying the huge tires filled with corn in the corn-pit – I overheard my kids saying “Let’s pretend to be in hot tubs.”

By this time – we were hot and sunburned from the glorious afternoon and realized how absurd it was that we were wearing big heavy rainboots in the dusty dry fields.

A found one puddle in the whole place and we all felt obligated to step in it.

Before we knew it – we had spent most of our day in the cornpit – and we hadn’t even gotten a pumpkin or gone through the maze.

“Do we really have to go in there?” A begged, “We will never get out!”

The kids insisted – so armed with maps we headed in.  We were supposed to find clues along the way to solve some sort of mystery.

Fast forward 30 minutes – the clue charts were thrown in the corn and we were frantically running in circles looking for the light of day.

It was very clear that we were not good at mazes.

We kept grabbing the map from each other and just staring at it blankly.  We would then look up and say “Um, go that way…..”

As I followed L, contemplating how many of our heads could use her Gucci diaper bag as a pillow if we had to spend the night in the corn, I heard her say to one of the kids, “Don’t worry…a helicopter will find us.”

Finally A led us out to safety and we went to the pumpkin patch to finally pick out some pumpkins.

It was a great day, a great way to kick off fall.

We ambled up to our cars, pulling wagons heavy with pumpkins.  As I approached my car I saw a note on my windshield.

Remember that couple from the morning?

The ones in the car parked closely next to mine?

They left me a note.

Let’s just say that it seems like someone skipped their anger management class today……and lets just say that that someone frantically used their dunkin donuts bag as a piece of paper to be sure she could get me a message……

To think I was going to warn them about what it will be like to have kids!!!

I guess they will have to just find out on their own….

and you know what they say….

KARMA IS A BITCH!!!!!

HAPPY AUTUMN TO ALL – EVEN THOSE MISERABLE HUMAN BEINGS THAT LEAVE NASTY NOTES ON CARS BECAUSE CHILDREN TAPPED INTO THEIR SHITTY TOYOTA COROLLA……

PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW!!

xo, Ladygoogoogaga

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

A small retraction and more tales from the beach….


As a rule, I never really take back anything that I say.

For example, if I say Mr. Gaga is being a jerk at Christmas-time, no matter what he says – I won’t retract.

If I talk about how fat children in America are, and you all email me and message me to say that your children are svelte and Olympian-like, I won’t retract.

Now I have been blessed with a free delivery of Lunch Box Love Notes, which I first noticed (and made fun of) in my Pottery Barn Kids Catalogue.

In case you missed it – these are notes that Pottery Barn sells that you can put into your child’s bento box filled with daisy shaped sandwiches lunch box  – to tell him how awesome he is.

The woman behind this madness was kind enough to contact me to say that she thought my post was funny and she sent me some complimentary notes.

I am NOT RETRACTING…but……..

I might possibly use this note if we were having a rough patch with schoolwork….

That’s actually cute and I have to say that I could totally see my boys reading and laughing at this note:

So – I while I will NOT RETRACT my original sentiments regarding the Pottery Barn Kids Catalogue…I will say …I just might end up using these little notes.  I was thinking if any other mothers were at lunch and saw my kids pulling out these little love notes….they will possibly think I am the best mother in the world!!  Wouldn’t that be perfect??

Well played Judi, inventor of Lunch Box Love notes….well played.

Because of you, my children might inadvertently think I love them during their lunch period.

Good work.

In other news – yesterday was one of those beach days that dreams are made of.  I felt my youth as I hopped on a jet-ski with one of my best friends from growing up at the beach.  We screamed and laughed so hard as we fell off over and over again doing power-slides.  When we made our way off the beach at 5 o’clock we headed up to the house to shower and get ready for the night.  We spent the night back on the beach eating, drinking, dancing with a reggae band and ignoring our children.

Today was a different day.

First of all I woke up and could barely get out of bed.  Apparently, when you are old and weathered, going on a jet-ski for an hour is bad for you.

I had some work to do in the morning and then met my kids on the beach.  From the minute I got there until when we left they whined, complained and cried.  This behavior goes against my “Beach Rules.”

It reminded me of a post from last summer – that I thought I would reblog.  Just in case you think my life is all about reading US Weekly and riding Jet-ski’s ……..think again:

Originally Posted on August 14, 2011 by Lady Googoogaga

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…..at which point I thought I heard cheering.

Yes.

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.

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.

DON’T FORGET TO CLICK ON THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME FOR THE FUNNIEST AND MOST “PATIENT” MOTHER IN THE WORLD!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

Linking to Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop

Waiting for the other shoe to drop….


Wednesday morning I quickly open my eyeballs when I hear the sound of the phone ringing.  I look at the clock. It is 7 am.

A phone call at 7 am can never be good.

Unfortunately, a long time ago, I dropped one of my cordless phones down the toilet – and never replaced it.   Now, when I need to answer the phone downstairs either I have to run for my life or miss it.

I jumped out of bed and ran for my life.

It was my best friend’s mother – who has been quite the bearer of bad news lately.  My stomach turned as I reached for the phone.

“Hi, Lady – when are you working this week – I want to meet up with you….”

I breathed a sigh of relief.  A work-related question is manageable.  Not ideal at the crack of dawn – but ok. 

The kids came meandering into the kitchen (a full half-hour before their alarms were set to go off) and I started their breakfast while I made small-talk with BF’s mom.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

It was now 7:15.

WTF?

I hung up abruptly and started to go towards the door, with my kids on my heels.  They were yelling that they wanted to answer the door – while my mind raced through all the possible scenarios that could go down when I answered the door. 

I yelled “I will answer it!!” as I approached the door – and as a final act of desperation – my son grabbed the back of my tank-top to try to pull me back away from the doorknob.  The straps of my shirt went askew and my boobs started to pop out.  I grabbed my boobs and looked up at the semi-circle of glass at the top of the door to see …..my brother!!!

I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. 

I just finished blogging about how this poor guy saw my boob last week !!

He was dropping something off before work.  It was now 7:20 am.

The day progressed.  I had plans to meet for a playdate at a park with a preschool friend of Sam’s, and then hit the grocery store and then be back to grab Michael off of the bus by 2:00.

It was a nice day – so park time went a little longer than planned and then I raced to the store, (which was Stew Leonard’s so it wasn’t very easy to do.)   I grabbed a piece of pizza for Sam to eat in the car on the way home and made it home with 20 minutes to spare. I shoved some cold cuts in my mouth and put the groceries away.

I was about to go pick up Michael from the bus and bring him directly to CCD when the phone rang.  It was the nurse calling to say that Michael had been in a scuffle during recess that caused him to hit his head on the ground and resulting in a huge egg on his temple.

Great.

As I spoke to her I opened my email quickly, I had 5 minutes until the bus would arrive. 

This is what I saw:

FROM: FIRST GRADE TEACHER (9:30 am)

RE: MICHAEL’S SHOES


Hi  Mrs. Gaga,

Michael’ s shoes are starting to wear down in the front and he said he’s tripping over it.  Do you have extra shoes or boots at home that you could bring for him?
I could also cut the piece of the shoe that is hanging off (but it is quite large and is the part that covers his toes).
I might just use some packaging tape for now..
Let me know what you think!
Thanks!
 
Needless to say this email was being read as Michael’s bus was turning the corner.   The email was sent in the morning and I had never checked my email! So now my son had to walk around with duct tape shoes all day!!  

Now because I haven't checked my email and spent my time picking out prepared foods at Stew Leonard's all day - My child has to walk around like a homeless person....Mr. Gaga is going to kill me.

 
I essentially hung up on the nurse and fainted from the shame of the situation. I ran out to the bus.   I could not imagine that I was so oblivious – such  a bad mother that I missed this.  That his shoes that I bought a mere 4 MONTHS ago from NORDSTROM were so destroyed that teachers send me special messages begging for replacement shoes!! 
 
I am not a complete derelict – it’s not like I got him crappy shoes from the 5 and dime!!   I mean I’m not trying to be cheap – but I would like to get a mere 6 months out of a pair of sneakers – so I really hadn’t paid much attention to his shoes. 
 
The irony was not lost on me that this was happening a week after I essentially abandoned my family for two weeks to work in Manhattan.  So maybe I am just not as on top of things as I should be……but still.  I think I would notice if my kid’s shoes were falling apart.
 
When Michael came off the bus I was shocked.
 
This is what his shoe looked like:
 
 

I mean I'm not saying I send my kids to school in Louboutins but this is ridiculous.....

 

The teacher had decided against the duct tape for some reason – so Michael just walked around with a huge airplane wing hanging off the side of this shoe.

I have never been so mortified.  His teacher must think I am insane, but I swear the shoes were normal when he left in the morning…..

I must master this whole working while simultaneously caring for others thing…..It’s really not as easy as it looks…..

First she made me wear broken shoes, then she stopped bathing me .....now she doesn't feed me. Things haven't been the same since she went to NY for work....

PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME….WHAT?  I WENT BACK TO NORDSTROM AND GOT THE KID SOME NEW SHOES……JUST CLICK IT……XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

Making my bed and sleeping in it….


This past week I finished a project that had me coming home Wednesday night from NYC at 1:30 am.  I turned off my son’s alarm in hopes we could all sleep in, miss the bus, and I could bring him to school late. (How much really gets done in the first 2 hours of first grade anyways?)

So – of course – Sam came into my room at 6:30 am.

“Mom.” 

If I play dead maybe he will leave. 

“Mom!!” he said louder.

“Hhmmp.” I grumbled.

“Mom – I can see your butt crack and your underwear.”

Somebody make him stop talking!!!

“Mom, do you know there’s something you can buy that goes on under your shirt…..it covers your butt and your belly.”

“Hmmm, Hmmm.” I answered.

“and even if you reach high up for something on a high shelf…..your belly and butt still don’t show…….you should buy it.”

So while I was gone – he has seen extensive infomercials…….I’m up.  Today is going to be horrible.

You know your muffin-top is out of control when your 4-year-old tells you to buy a “trendy-top wrap.” Note the photo to the far-left where the woman is “reaching for something on a high shelf.”

So that day was rough.  I was so tired I felt sick.  The feeling was very familiar – like a feeling I had long ago in a past life…..

When did I feel this bad before??

Oh right, it was the time I spent 4 years straight either pregnant and/or breastfeeding a newborn.  That was the kind of tired that nobody can explain to you.  It was just sleep deprivation to the core of your soul that takes years to recover from.  That period of time did irreparable damage to my body and soul.

What I learned this week is that I’m too old for this shit.

I think that little 4-year stint really did a number on me – and now I NEED SLEEP.

When I was done breastfeeding my second child, close to 5 years ago!!!  I told Mr. Gaga I would never wake up in the night again.  I explained to him that I had done my duties and now I needed to sleep.  He kind of agreed or ignored me or something – but what he didn’t realize (I didn’t realize it either to be honest) is that at that moment – something in my brain and my eardrums clicked off. 

I never woke up in the night again.

I cannot be woken up.

It’s a problem.

A few months into this new development, I remember coming downstairs to see a glaring Mr. Gaga.

“Aren’t mothers supposed to have some sort of maternal instincts that make them want to help their kids?” he asked with disgust.

“Um yeah – why?” I asked with trepidation.

“Well last night Sam called for you like 30 times, and you never came.  Then he gave up and started calling for Dora to save him….don’t you think that’s a problem?”

“What? I had no idea!! I didn’t hear him!!” I protested.

That was like 4 years ago – and things have not gotten better.

When we have stayed at my parents’ house overnight I share a room with Sam (who has night terrors and screams bloody murder every night.)  Needless to say I sleep right through all of his shenanigans.  

My father who is in his 60’s, exhausted, and sleeps on another floor of the house with his door shut – will come running in from his room in the middle of the night.

“LADY!! LADY!!” he will yell at me to wake up.

“What???”

“Sam has been screaming and crying for like 15 minutes!!! Don’t you hear him??”

I think we all know the answer to that question.

The icing on the cake was when we went away last year with my brother and his wife and daughter.  One of the nights we didn’t have enough room; so Mr. Gaga and I slept on the couches in the living room and the kids slept on an air-mattress right in front of the couch.

Like an inch away.

So the next morning, I heard rustling in the kitchen.  I hopped up, stretched and made my way to the coffee.  The kids were eating with my brother and his family.

My brother looked at me with disgust when I sat down at the table.

“What?” I asked.

“You are a horrible mother.” he said with disdain.

I am used to these kind of negative remarks from him, so I wasn’t too fazed.

“Why now?” I asked with boredom perusing the morning paper.

“Well – when Sam screamed at the top of his lungs for 20 minutes right next to your face and you didn’t wake up – I decided to come out and help him.”

“Oh thanks.” I said.

“Yeah – great – except that when I  leaned down to tuck him into his blankets, I realized that your tank top was askew and your entire boob was out.”

I choked on my coffee and spit it out with laughter.

“Oh, sorry about that.”

Let’s face it – nobody wants to wake up for someone else’s kid in the first place – and on top of that – nobody wants to see their sister’s boob.

To add insult to injury it’s not like my boobs are like Pamela Anderson’s!  As I have mentioned before – my children have deformed my body from top to bottom – but my boobs have taken the greatest hit.

I am pretty sure this is what my brother saw – except I have a lighter skin-tone and I wasn’t holding that stick…..Also – my wife beater was from the Old Navy, not her fancy cow one….

Alas, this whole motherhood situation is exhausting, and apparently I cannot survive without a solid night’s sleep anymore.  It will take me three weeks to recover from that week in New York.

I keep realizing new ways in which I am old…….and tired.

Will we ever not be tired again? Or is this the end of the road?

Will we wake up at 50 and like Oprah say “I feel great – I’ve never felt better!”?

I have a sneaking suspicion….that only happens to Oprah.

I know you probably don’t want to vote for someone who flashes her brother and ignores her children’s cries for help – but I am helping everyone around me to develop strong coping mechanisms!!!  Please click the banner below!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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