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Bad juju gaga


It has been hectic around here….plus it was a full moon this week.

Last weekend we went to the city for Michael’s birthday. We came back Monday and had an insane week.

I had a lot of stuff going on that was work related and it was weighing heavily on me.

I had to make a few tough and risky decisions and it was stressing me out.  Additionally, I took on a couple of jobs that were last-minute, so I was tired and run-ragged.

Remember when I said I did something that was like selling bras for a living??  What happens is that I have to deal with PEOPLE regularly.

If you have read this blog at all – you probably know that interacting with people regularly might be bad for my mental health.  If there’s a full moon….then my patience is really tried.  Women go berserk.

During the full moon, I spend a lot of time biting my tongue and attempting to respond appropriately to their mentally deranged rants.

Midweek, I worked in a setting where their was a woman who was shadowing a manager all day.

I didn’t interact with her much as we were both busy throughout the day.  A couple of times we crossed paths and she asked me about my day, I would just shrug and say “It’s fine…people are nuts…but whatever…” and go about my business.”

At the end of the day, we were standing near each other working and she stopped and said, “I feel like you are having a really bad day.”

I stopped to think about it…”No, not really.” I answered.

“Well, I have to tell you …. I am a psychic medium, and I can feel an extreme amount of negative energy coming from you.”

I just stared at her thinking of an appropriate response.

“Um…okay……so you can feel what I’m feeling?” I asked with trepidation.

“Yes, I’m an empath.” she answered matter-of-factly.

YOU are a negative judgy bitch......

YOU are a negative judgy bitch……

“Um…well…okay…I’m probably a little negative but I am not having a bad day….You are probably just feeling like “my stuff” I answered sheepishly.

But in my head I was thinking …

Who the fuck says such a thing to someone they just met? I’m sorry -but I don’t recall signing up for the Psychic Friends Network and by the way your hair is very frizzy and you should be using some Moroccan oil for that shit…and you are rude and I hate you.”

She stared at me and smiled and said…

“I can hear your thoughts.”

My jaw dropped and I basically just ran away from her.

I told a coworker about what just happened and I was on the verge of hyperventilation and she came over to us and interrupted our conversation.

My coworker asked “Can you see dead people?”

“Oh yes,” she said calmly, “They are all around us talking to me right now – and I have to tune them out.”

I turned to her and said nicely:

“I’m very stressed out by what you said….it’s like freaking me out…”

She said “No, don’t freak out….just work on ….”  She paused here and said…

“Excuse me, I have to just take a few steps back away from you, because I can feel all of your negative energy and it’s really making me feel like I am actually going to throw up….”

aniston

Can you believe this??

Just because you see dead people doesn’t mean you can going around being RUDE!! to people!!  Unless you are the LONG ISLAND MEDIUM you need to just keep your mouth shut!!  Nobody asked for your psychic reading!!

I left shortly after that and when I got home I got busy with kids’ stuff and by 9 o’clock Mr. Gaga and I asked each other about our day.

“My day was ok – except for the part when a psychic witch told me that my bad energy was making her feel like she was going to barf….”

“Oh that’s too bad, ” Mr. Gaga answered while helping clean the kitchen.

“Wait…what? Did you hear me? That REALLY happened!”

“Oh, I’m sure it did.” he answered not fazed.

Do you know why he’s not fazed? Because this type of shit only happens to me!!!

I had too much other stuff to worry about, to let this maniac ruin my life but that whole interaction, coupled with my work stress rattled me a bit.

I really couldn’t shake it.

I tried to catch myself when I was having a negative thought and imagine a rainbow or a really expensive shoe…..but it didn’t seem natural.

I guess Sam is psychic as well and even though I was working very hard to shoot magical positive light beams out from my body, he could feel all my stress and tension.

He took it upon himself to make me a book to cheer me up.

I remember growing up – there were standard pictures I would draw for my parents that I thought would make them happy.

For my mother I would draw flowers, hearts and birds.

For my dad I would draw sailboats and the beach.

Here was page one of Sam’s book:

pg1

“Um – that’s nice Sam.” I said – (trying not to be negative.)

“Oh yeah – that page is for Daddy – it’s a ninja turtle, a NY Giants sign and a little bottle of beer.” he said as he turned to page 2:

“Here’s your page.”

At first I was being negative and I thought that was a picture of "tan mom" from New Jersey - but then he clarified that it was in fact Madonna.

At first I was being negative and I thought that was a picture of “tan mom” from New Jersey – but then he clarified that it was in fact Madonna.

And then another page for Mr. Gaga:

A huge beer? I thought this was my book???

A huge beer? I thought this was my book???

And then a gigantic glass of wine…..

pg3

The next page said “The End.” and I think he perfectly summed things up.

While this story may be troubling to some, and some might find it upsetting that a child thinks that the key to cheering up his mother is through alcohol and 80’s pop stars…..

For me it was just what I needed to feel a little less negative.

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(Don’t worry – it will just be temporary – I will be back to calling small children douchebags by next week.)

STAY TUNED TO HEAR ABOUT WHAT GREAT PARENTS MR. GAGA AND I ARE….I WILL POST SOME PICS FROM MICHAEL’S BIRTHDAY PARTY THAT ENDED WITH SEVERAL CHILDREN CRYING….IN THE MEANTIME CLICK THE BANNER BELOW PLEASE!!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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LINKING TO THE DAILY PROMPT AT WORDPRESS RE: TOPIC

“HARSH CRITICISM”

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My kids are screwed and other lessons learned at art class….


I volunteer occasionally at my children’s art class at school.

It’s a nice way to interact with the kids and put in some volunteering time painlessly.

This week when I arrived for to help Sam’s kindergarten class, I was introduced by the art teacher to her new student teacher.

Right off the bat, she shook my hand and said “I feel so blessed to be able to be a student teacher here.”

I nodded and smiled.   I thought that was a strange thing for a college student to say to a parent.  After thinking about it for a while I realized that this generation of individuals are the first to grow up with a heavy dose of social media.

Maybe they have seen people my age talk about being “blessed” so much – that she thinks that’s how we talk??!!!  Her exposure to people my age is probably mostly on Facebook, and research would show that the probably most used phrase would be “I’m blessed.”

Interesting.

So she gathers the children on the rug to read them a book.  The book is about the artist Grandma Moses.  The book is probably meant for a middle schooler.  There are little to no pictures.  She is droning on and on about Grandma Moses’ life.

I look around the rug at the 5-year-olds.  They are snapping.  They are whispering in each other’s ears.  Some have crawled away and are hiding under the tables.

She keeps reading.  I am not a teacher – but this seems like a bad idea.

When things are almost completely at riot-level, she decides to take out a poster of one of Grandma Moses’ paintings.

The kids pay attention for a minute.

She asks the group “What do you see in this picture?”

A little girl’s hand shoots up, she is up on her knees waving for the teacher’s attention.

The student teacher calls on her, “Yes, what do you see?” she asks with a smile.

The little girl speaks slowly and deliberately, “I see…9 babies.”

grandma moses

Um…I’m no art expert…but I don’t even see one baby….let alone 9.

“Okay,” the student teacher responded slowly (completely disregarding that the answer was 100 percent wrong.)

“How about anything else? Does anyone see anything else besides 9 babies?”

The children seemed encouraged by the acceptance of wrong answers and several hands shot up.

“OH! I know!!” one little boy said with his hand up.

“Yes?” the student teacher said expectantly.

He spoke while seriously focusing on the picture.

By this time all the other children had passed out from boredom....

By this time all the other children had passed out from boredom….

“I see….90 people.”

At this point the art teacher decided to interrupt what was shaping up to be the worst art lesson in the history of teaching.

“Children, there are not 90 people in the picture…what else do you see?” she asked.

The same little boy who had seen 90 people raised his hand again.

“Yes?” the student teacher asked.

“I meant to say I see 100 people.” he said matter-of-factly.

At this point the teacher decided to point out the trees and buildings.

She also started to speak about the point where the sky met the ground.  She told the children that it was called a horizon.

The art teacher jumped in.  She mentioned that the class had learned about horizontal lines the week before and that maybe if the student teacher wrote on the board the words “horizontal” and “horizon” then the kids would notice something.
And this was my favorite part of the lesson.

Better than the teacher talking in Facebook status updates.

Better than children saying they see 100 people in a picture of 3 people.

The student teacher went to the board and wrote the letter “h.”

She then turned to the art teacher and said, “How do you spell ‘horizon’?”

I took this as my cue to head home and participate in something worthwhile like

cleaning the house,   making dinner,   waxing my moustache,   reading US Weekly pretty much anything else besides being in that classroom.

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PLEASE – PLEASE VOTE FOR ME ON THE BANNER BELOW – I AM NOW #81-!!!!  BEHIND 80 PEOPLE THAT ARE NOWHERE NEAR AS FUNNY AS ME….I’M JUST SAYIN…..IT’S AN INJUSTICE

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“No pain, no gain” and other things that assholes say…..


I overheard a conversation the other day between a mother and a pregnant woman.  The pregnant woman was talking about her birthing plan and how she intended to have a natural childbirth.

“I don’t need an epidural….I can handle pain.”

It would be highly inappropriate to get up from my park bench, throw my coffee to the ground and slap a pregnant woman across the face…..so….thanks God I have this here little blog.

I don’t really care if people choose to live a natural life, although  I don’t understand why people want to be in pain for no apparent reason.  I don’t understand why women today want everyone to think they are like the “Incredible Hulk.”

What I find most troubling is when people feel compelled to shout from the rooftops their misguided plans for childbirth and motherhood.

What I would like to say to her and to all woman who have NOT GIVEN BIRTH YET and make IDIOTIC ANNOUNCEMENTS about topics they KNOW NOTHING ABOUT……is this:

Do you know that when you say something like “I can handle pain” how absurd you sound to all humans with ears; let alone those of us who have actually pushed children out of our bodies vaginally?

First of all, unless someone has ever stuck something that is sharp and on fire into your birth canal…..let’s not make any definitive statements about your pain threshold.

I suppose you believe that you will be the one woman in the history of mankind who will not think it hurts.  You are going to be the one human being since the Earth was created that is going to say…”Eh…it wasn’t so bad.”

So, stick this inside your hoo-ha and see what you think.....If that doesn't bother you then you should be in good shape.....

Second of all, when you say phrases like “I can handle,” and “I am not going to,” there are a couple of things that are happening as a result. 

#1 – You are making definitive statements in public which you might regret someday when you are actually a mother.  Why not say things like “I would like to ….” or “I hope to…” 

Then when you are completely 100 percent wrong, you won’t feel like such an ass-hat and you might not have to go spiraling into a deep depression.

#2 – You are implying that your friend and quite frankly all woman who have given birth before you and have chosen pain management of some kind are weak, stupid individuals who have a low tolerance for pain. 

Let’s face it, by the sound of your condescending tone….I am going to go out on a limb and say that you think that we really can’t make any proper decisions at all as mothers, and this is our first bad choice. 

This is why women cannot get along. 

There are too many of your kind; women who (by the way actually know nothing about motherhood) make vastly inaccurate and improper judgements based on something you saw on the internet or something you saw in a flier from a midwife. 

I know that you think you have all of the answers to being the perfect mother because you totally have been taking a prenatal vitamin once a day and have not eaten any tunafish sandwiches for life 6 months, but you don’t.

#3 – You are setting yourself up for a major disaster. It is people like yourself that think you are going to have the perfect childbirth with no pain, just joy and bliss, that are the most let down when things don’t go according to plan. 

What if when you are rolling around on your birthing ball, dying of the pain, you decide that you’re actually not Lou Ferrigno?

And by the way is this the image you want for yourself? It is not very feminine....what happened to the good old days when women were delicate flowers?? Yikes.....

What if you change your mind and actually request an epidural (which happens ALL THE TIME TO YOU KNOW-IT-ALL HIPPIES)

What if you actually realize that sometimes when someone takes a butcher knife and slices you open to let a human being out of your uterus, that it actually fucking hurts like a motherfucker…..then what?

Will you consider yourself a failure? Probably. 

Will you tell us that you failed?

Probably not. 

You will probably tell us that the birthing process was amazing…. that you and your hubby are so blessed!!

And so begins the spiral of deception that so many mothers find themselves in.  You will pretend to everyone that life is great, that motherhood is wonderful and amazing. 

That you aren’t tired, that childbirth doesn’t hurt, that Bella and Brayden sleep through the night and never have a tantrum, and eat asparagus, and go on the potty, and can speak Japanese when they are 2, and can read when they are 3, etc. etc……..it’s endless the lies that you will tell us and yourself…..

Why?

For what purpose?

Nobody cares.

And by the way – nobody cares about any of it – but especially how you handle pain during what is essentially a medical procedure.

Maybe I should start just walking around telling people about how I manage my pain.

“Yesterday I had a migraine and I didn’t take anything to make myself feel better!!!””

“I had to get stitches the other day and I didn’t let the nurse use any numbing cream!”

“I had a cavity filled the other day and I refused Novocaine!!”

“I’m awesome!! ”

“Pain is awesome!!”

I am pretty sure people would tell me I am a stupid asshole.

Also – what possible difference does this make in the scheme of things? 

I know plenty of mothers that make announcements about how they didn’t have an epidural, or they make their own baby food, or they only use organic laundry detergent…then they drop that baby like a hot potato to go to work, the gym, and “Moms Night Out.”

The baby doesn’t give two shits about your epidural lady…I hate to break it to you.

What matters is that you do your best as a parent.  There are a lot of rough days ahead, days that you will doubt yourself, doubt your decisions, doubt your abilities as a mother.

There are days that you might cry not once, not twice…….too many times to count.

Oh and by the way – even though you think you know everything – you actually might not even know why you are crying. 

Things actually can get that bad.

But on those days when you are covered in vomit, and changing your 10th diaper of the day, and you are so tired you can’t even speak, and you haven’t had a shower in days, and you want to murder your husband, and your boobs hurt, maybe you will find comfort in thinking back on that glorious day when you pushed a baby out of your vagina and felt every ounce of pain.

PLEASE SHARE THIS ON FACEBOOK IF YOU ENJOYED THIS WEEK’S POST!!  I THINK IT WOULD BE SO NICE TO LET WOMEN WHO ARE EXPECTING IN ON WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT…..I PERSONALLY THINK THAT TORCH PICTURE SAYS IT ALL !!!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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

What I learned….


In February of 2011 I began this little anonymous blog, as a way to vent and tell stories of my experience as a mother.

I have so loved having you all read, comment, laugh and commiserate. I look forward to much more blogging in 2012 and thank you all for your support!!

2011 was a good year for me.  I finally started to feel like I could think about doing something for myself – something besides wiping a butt or emptying a dishwasher.  (Like start a blog!!)

If I had to pick one word for 2011 it would be “blog,”  because in the beginning of the year I didn’t even really know what a blog was, and now I have my mom blog and I also have a beauty blog, and blogging has become a huge part of my life!

If I had to pick one word for 2012 it will be “Tweet.”  From what I understand this is something I am supposed to be doing already, but as usual I am behind the eight-ball with technology – so I am going to figure it out and become a tweet-aholic.

Today I want to just review the year for those of you who might have missed some important stories….with the
TOP TEN THINGS I LEARNED THIS YEAR…..(and one for good luck)

#1 – In February I started this blog and learned about other cultures at a Chinese child’s birthday party. This is where I was told to take off my shoes and wear the mother’s filthy slippers throughout the party.

#2 – In March, I came to the realization that my neighbor “Fran Drescher” is an utterly repulsive idiot.  I am so thankful that she moved across the country so I no longer have to be subjected to her filth or her children’s theater productions.

#3 – In April, I was an idiot and drove 19 hours in the car to Georgia, I learned that this is not necessarily a good idea.  As if it’s not bad enough being stuck in a vehicle for long periods of time,  I definitely learned that when one gets out of the car for short breaks, the Cracker Barrel is not the place to go.

#4 – In May, in honor of Mother’s Day I reviewed the ways “This is not my mother’s motherhood.”  Most of this list revolves around the fact that modern-day motherhood is wretched and torturous and my mother enjoyed leisure time watching the Days of Our Lives program and smoking cigarettes.

#5 – In June, school ended so I no longer had to look at or listen to Steven Keaton at the bus stop, and I figured out a way for my son to get the final revenge of the school year.  This school – year I learned that I must wear sunglasses rain or shine to avoid eye contact with any and all humans at said bus stop.

Imagine waking up every morning and having to watch this guy pretend he's going to take the bus to kindergarten.

#6 – In July, I learned that Bingo is very annoying, I will never win and it is not good for my mental health. If I continue to attend the yearly beach bingo I could possibly flip tables like Theresa Guidice.

Teresa Guidice flipping a table

#7 – In August, I learned that too much sun coupled with late nights spent watching Spongebob while his mother drinks wine, can actually turn a 5-year-old into the devil.  I got a lot of comments on this one – I think you all could relate to this story – especially when everyone on the beach clapped when we left….

#8 – In September, I was provoked by a moron in my “Moms Club” who decided to tell her 2-year-old there’s no such thing as Santa.  I learned that there is a level of horrible parenting that I was not aware of – Oooohh how I hate that woman and her husband.  In 2012 – stay tuned for more idiotic requests and questions from people who apparently can’t solve simple matters without sending out a mass email to 800 mothers.

#9 – In October, I escaped from Hell on Earth Connecticut and I learned it is not necessarily all it’s cracked up to be.  Although we had a great trip – it did take us until about Halloween to recover from the trip – and that was about the time that we had a storm that destroyed Connecticut life as we knew it.

#10 – In November, my hair turned into a Brillo pad and I learned how to survive without power for 10 days!!!!!  It took us until last week to recover from this fucking piece of shit storm and the piece of shit utilities company that we have here in lovely Connecticut.

This is me waiting for my husband to hook up the generator.....

#11  – In December, I learned that some people in this household do not value Christmas traditions and schedules as much as I do…..and Mr. Gaga asked that I also say I learned that he is funnier than me……(which of course is not true.)

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?

Happy New Year!! Please start off the new year in a positive direction and vote for me was one of the Top Mommy Blogs!! XOXOXO LADY GOO GOO GAGA

Linking to pour your heart out!!

Even our Snowmen are Guidos


I am back – hope everyone had a Merry Christmas!!

The dust is settling here and I am coming out of an antipasto-induced coma and assessing how best to  return things I don’t like,

 throw the Nerf Guns in the garbage without the kids noticing, 

put things away.

I have spent a good part of the past two months complaining about how filthy my house is, how I step on little tiny LEGO pieces all over my house, and how I have to clean everything myself because my husband is too busy tailgating

Somehow – nobody cares.

None of you have offered to clean for me.

Nobody sent a cleaning service over.

Sigh.

Now coupled with my usual troubles of keeping a semi-clean house – I have to deal with scraps of wrapping paper, MORE toys everywhere, and the tree.

Well – somebody finally came to my rescue!!!  Just in time for pine needle season!!

Bissell.

I love you Bissell.

They sent me the BISSELL Perfect Sweep Turbo to help me pick up LEGOS!!! and anything else that needs a quick sweep. 

A major part of my problem is that I don’t want to go to the closet and get out my huge vacuum, so instead I just watch the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills surrounded by filth.

But now I have this Perfect Sweep Turbo- I have no excuse not to use it – this is like a modern-day dustbuster.

Mr. Gaga always says we need a dustbuster – now we just grab it from the porch and vacuum everything up – no plugging in.  And it is great at picking up those little annoying LEGOS! 

With the Perfect Sweep Turbo you can see exactly what you’re sweeping up and can easily pull it out of the container.  I mean it when I tell you –  I LOVE THIS PRODUCT. (Which you all probably already have because you are good at housekeeping.)

And now – as I tried to get organized and put things away – I got around to opening Michael’s backpack which was jam-packed with papers that I hadn’t had time to look at.

In the pile was a book that he had been working on throughout December at school.  This project entailed him writing and illustrating a book about a snowman.

When I was growing up I just wanted to listen to Cyndi Lauper or Madonna in the car and my parents would be listening to Imus or the WDRC 106.9 the Oldies station.

Mr. Gaga and I are NOT like that. WE ARE VERY COOL HIP PARENTS.  We listen to “top 40” and pop music and we know who Nicki Minaj is and are known to have dance parties with the kids.  We pretty much listen to everything – except gangsta rap.

So of course, Michael would think nothing of creating a story about a snowman that comes to life and starts to sing and dance.  I’m also sure it would seem perfectly logical for him to sing “I’m Sexy and I Know it.”

This is Michael's snowman on his way home from the Shish Lounge in West Hartford.....

So he was quite taken aback when his teacher made him change his story – because “That is not an appropriate word for a first-grader.”

He changed it to "I'm Coldy and I know it...."

Ummm….does that also mean it’s not appropriate for my kids to rip their clothes off and dance to that song in their underwear, gyrating their hips like they are Chippendales dancers?

Darn it.

I guess I will have to add to my better parenting New Year’s Resolution list – #43 – NO STRIP SHOWS TO “I’M SEXY AND I KNOW IT.”

Linking to http://www.thingicantsay.com

PLEASE CLICK ON THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE FUNNIEST MOM EVER!!!  ALTHOUGH MY CHILDREN LISTEN TO INAPPROPRIATE LYRICS, AT LEAST I’M FUNNY……..

Nobody Tells You…..


So I figured since last week I talked shit about Jesus – and you were all down with that – this week nobody would mind if I discussed another taboo topic, which is my period.

ALERT – DAD AND MR. GAGA IF YOU ARE READING THIS ….

CEASE AND DESIST – AND TUNE BACK IN NEXT WEEK. 

Anyways – this is all I want to say.  There are a lot of things that happened to my body since I got pregnant.  Many of these “subtle” transformations I had been told might happen (permanently increased foot size, saggy boobs.)  Other changes….. not so much, (permanently increased finger size??? and permanently increased period size???)

As I had to excuse myself at work this week, two times in the course of two hours – to change a tampon, I thought,

“This is so disgusting – people probably think I have diarrhea.  How come nobody warns you about this?” 

That was after the tampon machine ate my quarter that I had borrowed from someone!!  (Oh – and try asking someone casually for a quarter by the way.)

“For what?”

“Oh…um…. a gumball from the um ….gumball machine…….”

Someone (my doctor, my mother, other people’s mothers, anyone?????) should really say “Oh just so you know – after you have kids – your period will pour out of you like the Niagara Falls!!”

Well nobody told me – so the first time I woke up with my period after having my son – I looked at my husband and I thought someone had murdered him. It was pretty much like the scene from The Godfather when the guy wakes up with a horse head in his bed.

For those of you who have not gotten pregnant yet – right now when you get your period – it is not a big deal.  

You can put a little Q-tip-size tampon in and still do fun activities like the girl below – with no worries!!!

Just in case you were wondering – I am here to tell you that upon giving birth, your boyfriend will no longer play airplane with you like that. 

Number one – he will never be able to lift you with just his legs again.

Number two – If he stuck both of his feet on your abdomen like that when you were menstruating you would both be drenched in blood.

I too, used to use a “slender” tampon for “light days.” 

After childbirth you will never have a “light day” again (literally and figuratively of course.) 

The flow is not the only supersized aspect of the equation, by the way.  Every symptom seems to get worse with age.  The few days before my period – I used to get mild cravings and a little bitchy.

Let’s just say I am now known to eat everything in the entire house and be a little teensy bit more irritable and psychotic.  Let’s also say that my stomach can now bloat to the size it was when a human being was living in it. 

This is the shirt I usually wear on the days I am bloated - this way I avoid all those pesky questions about if I am pregnant or not.....

And of course all of these leaking tampons of course leads to a drawer filled with destroyed  underwear.

One time my husband and I went to see a comedian and he said after he first got married he went to the bathroom sink and saw something soaking in it. 

He took it out and held it up – and called to his wife,

“Why are you soaking the pillowcase?”

She said, “I’m not – those are my period underwear.”

I laughed so hard I cried. 

Then I thought about how I used to have tons of matching sets of bras and underwear that were gorgeous from Victoria’s Secret that were not stained from breast milk and periods.

Then I cried some more.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Thank God that I am here to inform people of what horrors are to come upon giving birth……Please vote for me by clicking the banner below as a token of appreciation!! XO Lady Goo Goo Gaga

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