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When it Rains it Pours….

Sunday the coffeepot was broken.  My father-in-law had stayed over Saturday night, and left to his own devices Sunday early in the morning, he had somehow ripped the entire top off of the device.

Coffee could be made but it had grounds in it.  I added “Get new coffeepot” to my to-do list.

Tuesday there was talk of a hurricane, and for us a lot of rain.  We have been around this torture-chamber they call Connecticut, long enough to know, that when the forecast shows little graphics of sideways rain – chances are we are totally screwed.

In particular, our basement has been known to have a flood or two, so we are usually on high alert when there are  big rainstorms.  There is a little pit in the basement that sometimes fills with water, (we call it the “pit of doom”) and a sump pump chugs the water out when water comes in.

At 4 AM Tuesday, Mr. Gaga woke up to the sound of torrential downpours and when downstairs to check out the precarious situation.  The sump pump was blown.

When the rain woke me around 6:30, I wandered downstairs to find that Mr. Gaga had transformed into a “human sump pump.”  He was using the wet-vac to suck up the water as it filled up the “pit of doom” and then dumping it out in the sink.

Over and over again, ultimately until an emergency worker could come replace the pump.  It was extremely muggy and musty which didn’t help matters.

Mr. Gaga was dripping with sweat, shirtless and late for work.

There wasn’t much I could do to help except poor coffee filled with grounds for him.

Finally the rain tapered off and someone installed a new pump.

I had a bunch of soaking wet towels that we had used to dry up the floor, plus my regular mountain of dirty clothes to contend with.  When I threw my first load of clean wet towels into the dryer, the machine started to smoke and make weird noises.  It wasn’t drying the clothes or turning.  It was broken.

I stared at the pile of clothing and could already smell the mold and mildew that would shortly start to grow.

The sump pump situation would cost a couple thousand dollars, and I needed a new coffeepot and now a dryer.

This was shaping up to be an annoying and expensive week.

I peeled out and headed to Sears to buy a dryer.  Between the basement status, soccer and baseball, there was a very small window of time that I could live without a dryer.  Meanwhile, it was my day off and I had a lot more important things planned for that day!

My plans were foiled and I headed into Sears disgruntled.

I stormed over to the dryer section.  I saw that they ranged from $900 to $400.

“I just want dry clothes, sir.” I demanded of a nearby Sears employee, “I need a dryer that will dry clothes and that can be delivered tomorrow.”

Let me show you some different options!

Let me show you some different options!

“No dude. Just get me the cheapest dryer you have and make sure it can be drying my clothes by tomorrow.” I cut him off.

We quickly established that there was a Whirlpool dryer for $400.  “I’ll take it.”

“Ok, ma’am,” and he started to drone on about Whirlpool and the features of this dryer compared to others.


“Ok – whatever,” I cut him off.

He started to type up my order.

“So how long will this machine last?” I asked impatiently.

It depends on how you take care of it!

It depends on how you take care of it!

“Hmmm…ok well I am going to take shin guards and peep cups and a million towels and throw them into the dryer in the morning and then I am going to walk away..How does that sound?”

Ma'am get the cheapest one we have...

Ma’am get the cheapest one we have…Do you want a warranty protection plan for $200.

“What do you think?” I asked sarcastically.

He laughed and started my order. I stood there while he processed my order for what seemed like an hour. I wandered the aisles for a minute and quickly grabbed a coffeepot.

“Can you add this too…my life is horrible.” I asked shoving the coffeepot box in front of him.

This is a great coffeepot - would you like to buy a warranty for this?

This is a great coffeepot – would you like to buy a warranty for this?  It could break and we always recommend getting the warranty for an extra $80 a year!


Finally I left with my coffeepot in tow, with the promise of a new dryer the next day arriving between 9-12.  I had to just pray that it came on the early side because I was supposed to go to work.

The next morning, I felt better about my life.  Even though I was out thousands of dollars, at least things would be working.

I went to go make coffee in my new pot.



How am I supposed to live like this!!!

I was trapped home waiting for my dryer.

The kids went off to school and I wandered around the house grumpily.  I was wearing a bra and wife-beater, but I threw on another wife beater so to not be too scantily clad when the dryer arrived.  My hair was in a bun and I had no makeup on.  I was too tired from not having caffeine to get up the energy to get dressed properly.

I decided to make dinner – since I would be going to work late and coming home late.  I poured oil in some pans and started frying up pork cutlets.  The doorbell rang. Excitedly, I answered the door expecting my dryer.

I had forgotten that I had scheduled a chimney cleaning weeks ago.

“We are here to clean your chimney.” a man said at the door.

“Ugh – ok – but I don’t even know why I scheduled this…is it really necessary?” I answered with disgust.

He started droning on about the importance of chimney cleaning and basically told me the whole house would be burnt to a crisp if I didn’t let him in.

“Fine – apparently this is Mary Poppins – I don’t even know what you are talking about – just do it I guess,” I said as I let him in and went back to making dinner.

After about a half an hour, Burt the chimney sweep returned. “’am, I just want to speak to you about a few things.” I had taken a break to read a magazine while dinner was cooking.  Now this guy was interrupting a great US Weekly article to talk to me about some chimney bullshit.  I was in no mood.

“I went onto your roof and you have a big problem….he started to talk about chimneys and flues and I think he might have even said “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” ……but I wasn’t at all interested in anything he was saying….”


I took some pictures to show you….You have a huge hole in your chimney”


And also apparently someone at some point tried to fix this with what appears to be rubber cement…..

I had to schmooze this guy as he started writing up an estimate that would surely be thousands.  I was really regretting my appearance and my choice of tank-top apparel.

The original estimate was $650.  I tried to flirt and offered him some cutlets….in the end he agreed to do it for $500.

I said I would call him later and shut the door behind him, anxiously awaiting my dryer.

I texted Mr. Gaga to give him an update on yet another household expense.

He knows me well

He knows me well……

Finally the doorbell rang again.  A man wearing a t-shirt that was supposed to look like a tuxedo was on my front steps. There was a big truck that said something like “We love tuxedos and dryers” on it in my driveway.

“I am here with your dryer.” he said matter-of-factly.

“But why isn’t it a Sears truck? I didn’t order the dryer from “We love Tuxedos and Dryers” – Do you have identification?” I asked nervously.

“No.” he answered impatiently, “Do you want the dryer?”

I needed that fucking dryer.

“But what if you kill me?” I asked him point-blank.

He wasn’t amused.

“Do you want to reschedule the delivery?” he asked starting to walk back to the truck.

“NO!!! I need to dry towels!!!” I shrieked.

Earlier I had tried to open the hatch to the basement and I couldn’t get the latch open.  This tuxedoed man was going to have to come into the basement and open it for me in order to get the old dryer out and the new one in.

“At least if he kills me – they will say on the news that I was simply trying to have dry non-moldy clothes for my family,” I thought staring at his tuxedo shirt.

“Ok – come in.” I gambled. I was at the end of my rope.

As I stood behind him in the basement, I realized things could get pretty dicey so I snapped some pics for evidence before my murder.


And then later when he asked me to sign for the new dryer – I snapped a quick pic of his shirt instead of signing.

“Ma’am what are you doing?” he asked.

“Nothing! I hit a button my phone!” I said as to not anger this tuxedo wearing maniac.


Finally all of the transactions were complete.

I went to work and when I came home I just wanted to relax and calm down and not have to think or worry about all of the pressures of home ownership.

“Remember when I said that I only want to drink on the weekends?” I asked Mr. Gaga when he came home.

“Yeah – I changed my mind.”


This is a new week and I have coffee, a coffeepot, a dryer, a dry basement and a chimney that hasn’t exploded or caught fire yet….

Life is good.




Upscale Cuts

I hate when programs change that have been working just fine – but apparently WordPress has done something so that I can no longer upload pictures.  So after I went from computer to computer and nothing worked, I had a complete nervous breakdown and smashed every computer to bits  called wordpress headquarters with a bomb threat  told Mr. Gaga I wanted a divorce

realized the problem wouldn’t be resolved tonight – I am just hoping that you can click on the links for pictures or …….

Use your imagination????


Anyways – when you shirk your parental duties from the last day of school until the first day of school, things can really get dicey.

I really meant to go out and do things that I needed to do.

It was just that each time I was going to head out and run some errands to get school supplies or clothes, or bring the child to necessary doctor appointments, I never was able to make it because it was just so…..


On the day before school started I finally decided to make a to-do list and start getting organized.

On the top of the list was to get haircuts for both boys.  Their hair had grown out into bleached shaggy haircuts appropriate for beach bums but not really for school.

And you know how I feel about parents who don’t get their children’s hairs cut.

“No!” both boys moaned.  “We don’t want hair cuts! We are growing out our hair…”

“Not on my watch you aren’t.” I stood firm.

Sam would not be easily swayed – as he is obsessed with his hair and his tan.  He spends hours looking at himself in the mirror combing his hair into different styles and his tan is a top priority and he is possibly the tannest 7 year-old you will ever lay eyes on.

I thought that I should actually show you so you can understand how tan he is, so I went into his room before bed and had him just pull down his shorts a tiny bit to show the line between white and almost black skin.  Just when Sam was peeling down his shorts and I was about to click the camera – Mr. Gaga came into the room and accused me of being a child pornographer and it got very weird and uncomfortable so I found an old picture of him playing on the beach that kind of shows what I am talking about…

This is Sam playing on the beach.....

This is Sam playing on the beach…..

I recently had seen a very young cool acquaintance and he had longer hair on the top and shaved on the sides with stars and crazy designs.  I had asked him where he got his hair done and he gave me the address where his cousin worked, a barber that was very talented at hair design.

This is what his hair looks like…..


I knew that Sam had wanted to have lines in the side of his hair during the World Cup like many of the soccer players, so I lured him into agreeing to a haircut by telling him I would bring him to this hair salon where the barber knew how to create a line on the side of his head.

Normally we go to a kid’s haircutting place where the stylists in no uncertain terms could not be trusted to do anything but a buzz cut.

This is what that place looks like…….


He excitedly agreed to go first thing Tuesday morning and Michael indifferently said he would come too.

Come to find out the salon didn’t take appointments.

I planned on going first thing when the door opened at 9:30 in the morning and then proceeding with the 500 other places I needed to go after that.

The place was about twenty minutes away and my acquaintance had said when he told me the address that it was behind the “7-11.”  That didn’t make sense to me – but what do you know it was in a little building behind the “7-11” and it was called “Upscale Cutz.”

That little “z” in “cuts” should have been a warning.  But I was determined to get these kids a cool haircut and I paid the grammatically incorrect sign no mind.

When we entered the door we had clearly traveled into a new uncharted territory.

The place was filled with men and teenage boys.  There was a movie playing on a tv screen on the wall and there were a bunch of kids playing video games.   I stood just inside the door with both boys next to me.  I kept my sunglasses on and stared at everyone from behind the safety of the dark lenses.  They stared back at me.

This was clearly not “Snip-Its.”

We had crossed over completely into the world of the “barber shop.”

This is what that looked like…


“Can I help you?” said the one barber while he was buzzing someone’s head.  He was an extremely large man with quite possibly the largest camoflague shorts on I have ever seen and his feet where in what I refer to in my household as “shower shoes.”

“Um…they need haircuts.” I said gesturing to the two boys.

“Ok – well all of these people are before you.” he said nodding his head towards the 15 men that were already waiting.  “It’s going to be awhile.”

I watched as he shaved the guy’s head and did some quick math and thought he would be able to be done quick enough and it would be worth it to have a cool back to school haircut.

It was 9:30 – even if we were out by like 10:30 or 11:00, I could still get everything done that I needed to.

We made ourselves as comfortable as we could while sitting on a folding chairs and waited and watched the show.

I soon realized that there were in fact even more people than I had originally calculated, and they apparently didn’t even want their hair cut.  They seemed to be just there for fun.   The men cracked jokes and talked about sports while we waited.

Angry mothers came in several times, speaking Spanish, but I think they were asking how long for a haircut for their kids, and stormed out cursing out the barber.

One woman spoke to the barber in Spanish and then on the way out screamed in plain English, “I’m done with this fucking bullshit.” before pushing through the door and PEELING OUT of the parking lot.

I caught a glimpse of Michael during this little interaction.  This is what he looked like:


I started to get antsy and looked at the clock, it was 10:30 and we were nowhere near being next.

I had already invested an hour, I would stay a bit longer, I decided.

Next thing we know, a man comes in who was either possessed by the devil or had done so much drugs that he had turned into a zombie.

He walked stiffly, seemingly in some sort of trance as he pushed the door open.

He came barging in staring straight ahead at his reflection in the mirror and was making the sign of the cross repeatedly.  He was holding a “Table Talk” pie and sometimes he would stop making the sign of the cross and he would look at his pie wide-eyed in horror.  He was dripping with sweat.

I clutched the kids.

Everyone was afraid.   Finally the barber asked him if he was alright.  The guy didn’t answer.  By the fifth time the barber asked – he announced he was waiting for a haircut.  He turned to look at the room for a seat and of course the only seat in the whole place was right next to Sam.

I was horrified as he looked at the chair and then looked at us.

This is what that looked like….


As he came lumbering over, I ripped Sam up from the chair and told him to flee to the other side of the room.  I was brave and stayed put, one seat safely between us.

The zombie took his blueberry Table Talk pie and began shoving it in his face ravenously, making strange noises and rubbing blueberries all over his mouth.

I had to get up and run to the other side of the room.  I felt sick to my stomach, it was hot and now I couldn’t even sit down.

Thankfully after about 20 minutes, he got up threw the box in the garbage and left.

The whole place breathed a sigh of relief.

I sat back in my chair.  “Now Sam,” I whispered.  “When you get your turn you need to tell him that you want it to just be trimmed on top and a line on the side.”

“I know.” he answered.

Every few minutes I would check in with him and see if he had changed his mind.  “What are you going to ask him to do?” I would ask in a hushed voice.

“Just one line or zigzag on the side.” he would whisper back.

At 12:30!!! it was Michael’s turn.  He was not interested in any design so he got his regular haircut and Sam was up.

“Don’t forget what to say,” I whispered in his ear as we approached the barber chair.
He nodded his head up and down seriously as he hopped into the chair.

He looked nervously up at the barber and didn’t speak.

I jumped in and described the haircut we had discussed.

“So we were thinking just like one line on the side…” I said sweetly.

The barber kind of listened to me but was focused on Sam.

“You want me to do a freestyle design for you brother?” the barber asked Sam- “man-to man.”

Sam stared back at him.


“Ok – I will just give you a freestyle.” the barber said as he cut his buzzer ready.

I stared at Sam’s eyeballs and tried to send him a message saying “THIS IS NOT WHAT WE PLANNED! WE NEVER DISCUSSED THE FREESTYLE!!” but he just shrugged.

Without sounding too wimpy I needed this freestyle business to be curbed a bit….

“Um…can we just do a small section of “freestyle?” I asked.

“Sure.” the barber shrugged.

I ran back to my chair, wondering what the fuck a “freestyle” haircut was.

Well here it is -a freestyle back to school haircut.


And there’s never been a happier customer.  And after three long hours of torture and zombies eating pies this masterpiece cost me $5.

We will be back.  For the price, the entertainment and for the sheer joy I will have telling the other Goopville moms that Sam got his haircut at “Upscale Cutz” when they surely will be wanting to know where their little angels can have such a fancy “freestyle” cut.





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…


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…..


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!


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'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



Time to get back into the swing of things.

And by “back,” I mean the kids went to school for two days and then we skipped Friday to take a long weekend at the beach.

I mean how much school can someone take in August?

Anyways – I was a bit concerned that all of the sun and laid back beach time was making the kids a bit lazy. When I asked them what activities they wanted to do they didn’t seem to be interested in anything.

Now that they are 6 and 7 I feel that they should kind of have some interests outside of video games and Spongebob. I convinced one to take soccer and the other to take tennis.

That’s enough. Then Michael announced he would like to take drums, so I agreed to that. Then they both decided they would like to play flag football. Now starting this week I am going to be one of those crazed mothers driving from practice to practice everyday.

I really wanted to enjoy this last weekend of freedom. I wanted to make it a point not to even think about the fall schedule until after the weekend.

Last night, (the last night of the summer) I fed the kids some mac and cheese from the box and plopped them in front of the television. I poured myself some wine and headed out onto the deck with a few family members, determined to have a nice night.

This should do it...I just black out in no time....

This should do it…I’ll black out in no time….

Maybe that’s why when a bunch of old friends came over unexpectedly with vodka in hand, I was a little to quick to down the most delicious martinis I ever had.

We were all out on the deck, and people kept hearing the party and joining in. The more people who came the more shithoused Mr. Gaga and I became.

And then some lawyer or cop showed up with possibly the best party entertainment ever…a breathalyzer. It got passed around and it became almost a competition to see who could get the highest number.

Needless to say- Mr. Gaga was disappointed with his 2.5 score.

Needless to say, even though it was the highest one of the night, Mr. Gaga was disappointed with his 2.5 score.

It just seemed that whenever I thought I was getting a little tipsy I would blow a .12 and then everyone would boo me at the party and I would have no choice but to down another martini.

At some point well into my third or fourth martini, a girl I had met only once before asked me if I had children.

I stared at her drunkenly. “Yes…..Oh shit….I DO have children!! I totally forgot!”

I ran inside and found Michael watching tv as though it was any other night. Sam was missing. I looked at the clock.

Oh shit....

Oh shit….

I stumbled over to the microwave…

This would fall into the category of "bad parenting..."

This would fall into the category of “bad parenting…”

“That’s it!” I said with authority.”It is WAY past your bedtime young man!”

Michael looked at me and shrugged. He got up and went to bed, which is where I noticed that poor Sam was under his covers.  He had, under the duress of having no mother, taken it upon himself to go to bed.

With the kids officially out of my hair the party continued.

I served everyone shots in votive candle holders because I couldn’t find shot glasses and things got really crazy.

When we finally went to bed it was around 2.

Needless to say when the kids woke up in the morning things weren’t pretty.



I could barely speak or function.

I looked at poor Sam and he was still in the clothes he had on the day before.

I desperately needed an egg and cheese sandwich so I drove myself to the nearest place I could find and squealed up on two wheels.

I came back with coffee for the kids and a breakfast sandwich for Mr. Gaga.

When we felt that we could mildly function after downing eight gallons of water and our greasy sandwiches, we went to the beach and were able to hold it together somewhat until the lunch picnic we were planning on going to got cancelled.

There was no way I could suddenly go from worst mother ever to great mother of the year and come up with a healthy lunch.

I gave the kids a few bucks and sent them to the ice cream truck for lunch.

After a while they came back and gave me change and said that they were full – and could they save their lunch for later and handed me what was left.

These are huge jawbreakers....apparently otherwise known as "lunch"

These are huge jawbreakers. They are large sugar balls that can break your jaw…and apparently are otherwise known as “lunch.”

I have made it through the day.  I am utterly exhausted but I eked out this blog post miraculously.

All I can say is as far as parenting goes….it’s gotta be all uphill from here.

Happy Labor Day!

Don’t judge me…..



Why my kids are lucky to have me….

The other day at the store Michael was pointing to something in the deli case.

“Mom kids in my class have this for lunch all the time…I want to get that.” he said.


“Absolutely not.” I said as I  pushed the cart away, “When you see children that have that for lunch it means that their mother doesn’t love them…see how lucky you are to have me?”

He nodded and seemed to understand.

It reminded me in general as Mother’s Day approaches just how incredibly lucky Michael and Sam are to have me….

I am going to repost from last Mother’s Day my list of reasons why…..


1 – Of course – just stating the obvious here – but even though I am Italian and spent many years going tanning my kids are lucky enough that I don’t  roast them in a tanning bed.

2 – I let my children choose from refreshing beverages like milk or water and I give them Flintstones Vitamins with Extra C to build immunity! I don’t breastfeed them until they are old enough to have one hand on a Wii controller and the other on my boob.

3 – If I did do something that could potentially scar them for life or embarrass them in front of their friends, I wouldn’t let some magazine reporter and photographer document said activity and publish it for the world to see.  I would not do that even if it was for the cover of TIME Magazine, because although I have a blog which could be seen as a touch narcissistic, I am not a complete asshole.

4 – I actually spend time with my kids. I take them to the park, or read books to them, or take them to the library instead of spending my time  “bullet-ing” all day like  many mothers in America.

5 – I could possibly be considered a “milf.”  This is especially noticeable when compared to the “milgamo’s” around this town.    (“Milgamo” stands for – “moms I’d like to give a make-over.) This doesn’t necessarily mean much – but when the kids are older I am sure they will take comfort in knowing that when I pick them up from school I won’t be wearing ‘mom-jeans.”

6 – Even though other mothers in town seem to “forget” to comb their children’s hair or let their hair grow to the floor because  “Johnny doesn’t like getting his hair cut,” I get my boys frequent haircuts and comb their hair regularly.

I think it is important that they don’t look like drag queens on heroin at the bus stop – (like many young boys do these days.)

This is another little first grade boy that often sits next to my son on the bus....

This is another little first grade boy that often sits next to my son on the bus….

7 – I make sure that my children are not fat and lazy.  On nice days I often send them outside and lock all the doors, keeping them out for long stretches of time.

When they try to come inside and watch television or play video games, I yell and say “Do you want to be fat and lazy like all of your friends? Do you??” and shove them back out the door.

8 -I don’t really make them go to church.  My father made me go every living Sunday of my life. I think my kids are pretty lucky that I am too lazy and tired and not-god-fearing enough, to make them go.  When we do go on occasion, if they laugh and act crazy, I probably join in instead of yelling at them.  (Sorry Jesus.)

9 – I keep it real.  I don’t hide the nitty-gritty facts of life.  The threat that my children might some day really end up in “bad boy school,” keeps  everyone on their toes around here.  “Bad boy school” is a place that my mother-in-law taught me about.  It is a place where boys go when they are mean and rotten and can be conveniently seen from the highway!  I drive fast enough by it that they never really get a good look.

I always say “Oh look I see little sad faces peeking out the windows….See them??”

They always look out the window frantically with looks of horror – and say “Yes! I see them!!”

Otherwise known as the Colt Building in Hartford, it’s the “Bad Boy School” in the Gaga household. I always say as we drive by – “There it is kids! Keep it up and that’s where you will be living soon!”

10- I BLOG about my life and theirs – so they will have plenty of evidence of what a good mother I am and how much I love them!!!


Kiss me…you’re Irish

My mother is 100% Irish and my father is 100% Italian.  Same goes for Mr. Gaga.

As luck would have it, I am 100% Italian and Mr. Gaga is 100% Irish.

Being married to an Irish person can be good and bad.

Here are some indicators that your husband and children are Irish:

They can drink you under the table: – Most stereotypes don’t come out of thin air.  These people can drink all day and night with little to no repercussions.

There’s no hangover…no throwing up.

The only people who suffer are the sober people who have to be in their company.  In my case, I learned long ago that I will never be able to keep up with the Irish in the drinking department.   While my Irish girlfriends were dancing on the bar in the Bronx, I was home vomiting.

Mr. Gaga is always the life of the party…and has yet to ever wake up one morning of his life and say “I’m never doing that again.”

Irish eyes are smiling:  It’s good to be with someone who has a smiley face, like Mr. Gaga.

I definitely have something that can certainly be described as a “frowny face.”

This has proven to be off-putting.   My neighbor told me that when she first moved to the neighborhood, some lady on my street (who I spoke two words to in my life) told her about the Gaga’s.  She said  “The husband is really nice, but stay away from the wife….she’s a total bitch.”  This is a common theme.

Thankfully, sometimes it seems that the friendliness that radiates from his Irish face, kind of cancels out my bitch face…and we become a little more approachable as a couple.

Somehow this face makes people feel better after they interact with

Somehow this face makes people feel better after they interact with…


this face…


They can fight: Yet another stereotype that just happens to be true.  Mr. Gaga is non-confrontational to a fault, but if the shit hits the fan I know he can take everyone down.  He’s very happy and nice, but if pushed too far, he can get crazy.

Don’t be fooled by his smiling eyes or his intoxication….he will fuck you up.

Their taste buds don’t work properly: I believe it is because their ancestors spent centuries gnawing on rotten potatoes in the rain or something, but both my husband and mother have taste buds that don’t function.

As a result they douse everything they eat with inappropriate seasonings and sauces.

When we all eat together my mother spends the first ten minutes of the meal “peppering her food.” While we eat, she literally sits at her seat shaking salt and pepper shakers madly.


I finished my dinner tonight right around the time my mother had just finished "salt and peppering" hers...Who wants to eat this much pepper????

I finished my dinner tonight right around the time my mother had just finished “salt and peppering” hers…Who in their right mind wants to eat this much pepper????


Mr. Gaga takes it one step further and mixes every sauce he can find together and dips his meat into it.

Needless to say, my delicious Italian food does not need this kind of treatment.  I beg him to eat food as it is prepared.  It’s heartbreaking to see him dip my chicken cutlets into this shit.

Every night he mixes all of this into a ramekin and dips food into it....Does that seem normal???

Every night he mixes all of this into a ramekin and dips food into it….Does that seem normal???

“Why are you doing this? This chicken cutlet is delicious!”

“I like it this way,” he says as he dips it into the revolting concoction.

“It’s rude to the chicken cutlet! You can’t even taste it anymore!”

I plead…to no avail.

They have blatant disregard for food:   I guess it may be due to the dysfunctional taste buds, but food is merely a means of survival for the Irish.

I could truly give my husband homemade pasta with a lobster sauce or Lucky Charms for dinner and he would be equally content either way.

It’s offensive.  However, on nights when I’m working or have had a crazy day there’s some comfort in knowing that I can offer a tunafish sandwich for supper and Mr. Gaga will be thrilled.

They are witty: In college, I lived with 7 Irish girls.  I never laughed so hard in my life.

Mr. Gaga also has been known to crack me up.

Sometimes so much so that I pee my pants.  Since I had kids….I am especially prone to having accidents.

Our first date after I had Sam, we got a babysitter and went to the movies.  When we left the theater and we were walking to the car, Mr. Gaga said something very funny.  I stopped walking, twisted my legs together to try to keep the pee in.  It didn’t work.

50 gallons of pee came pouring out in the middle of the crowds of people who were coming out of the movies, which actually just made me laugh harder.

Mr. Gaga ran away and left me.  He got his car and came back to pick me up where I stood in a pee puddle.  He found an old garbage bag in his truck and he made me wrap up in it before I sat on the seat in his truck.

We laughed the whole way home and then I snuck upstairs with my wet pants and garbage bag while he paid the babysitter.

There’s absolutely nothing better than laughter.

Because they can make people laugh, they take it too far:

Laughter is great.  The problem lies in the fact that when people think Mr. Gaga is the funniest person in the world, he starts to believe them.

When he’s out with friends or at work, he is “Mr. Personality”, shooting off one-liners and cracking jokes, and everyone thinks he’s a riot.

This was the work crowd last time he had to speak....

This was the crowd the last time he had to speak at work….

When he gets home, I am not always in the same jovial mood as his work people or his friends.  Sometimes he tries to crack the same jokes to me that worked wonderfully at work….



They are very white:  When you look like Snooki, you don’t expect to have to get involved with people who don’t like the sun.  Mr. Gaga sits out for a couple of hours on the beach before he starts crying and goes back in the house, and Michael wants to stay out but ends up roasting.

Caring for pasty-white children and husbands is super-annoying.  While Sam and I are tanning, the last thing we want to do is go back to the house because the other 2 annoying lobsters have sun poisoning.

This is Sam on playing on the beach.....

This is Sam playing on the beach…..


This is a picture of Mr. Gaga when we were in Miami...

This is a picture of Mr. Gaga when we were in Miami…

Loving the Irish can be a blessing or curse – but mostly its a blessing if you can disregard the hideous sunburns ……






May the force be with me….

Mr. Gaga is responsible for taking care of the kids most Saturdays.

I am not at the spa.

I am not getting a pedicure or lunching with friends.

I am working most Saturdays.

Mr. Gaga will have everyone thinking that he has it very rough.  He will tell random people that he runs into at games, birthday parties, and the store that he’s a “single dad.”

When interacting with other parents of children we barely know he will find a way to steer the conversation to some point where he can announce, “Well, I do everything  because I am a single dad.”

He finds this hilarious.

Last Saturday was the first basketball games of the season for both kids.

When we all got home I asked how it went.

“Good, Sam’s coach seems nice and I saw Todd’s mom and we were talking about the Star Wars party she’s having for him next weekend.”

(Todd is Sam’s friend – we have gone out socially with his parents one time.)

“She said that we were invited to stay during the party and hang out and eat…”

“Hmm, hmm,” I said distractedly as I read my email.

“So I told her that we would bring Star Wars cookies.” he threw in nonchalantly.

Imagine this making a huge screeching noise....

Imagine this making a huge screeching noise….

“And what did she say???” I asked, hoping that this mother responded with something like “Oh no – that’s not necessary!”

“She said “Great!,” he answered.

“What??!! Why??!!!” I asked in shock.

“Well we have those cookie cutters…” he answered nonchalantly…”What’s the big deal?”

When a kind aunt that always gives my kids really cool stuff was nice enough to give us these fancy Star Wars cookie cutters from Williams Sonoma, I did what any level-headed woman would do.  I hid the box in a closet.

Sorry Aunt Sue, but this box hasn't seen the light of day since you gave it to us....

Sorry Aunt Sue, but this box hasn’t seen the light of day since you gave it to us….

Apparently Williams Sonoma thinks it’s just every mother’s dream to sit around making baked goods into the shapes of Star Wars characters.

Also – if that’s not enough activity to kill all of your time and your will to live you can also make Star Wars pancakes.

Screw you Williams are an asshole...and your pancakes are assholes too.

Screw you Williams Sonoma……

And if you have completely lost your marbles…for the bargain-price of $15 you can actually flip this Darth Vader-shaped breakfast with this:


Needless to say Thursday afternoon came, and I had to get to work on the cookies. First I went to the store to purchase the 47 types of frosting I would need to create these cinematic masterpieces.

 I made the sugar cookie dough.  I hosted a playdate for Sam’s friend and then two other kids came over for dinner, while their parents were at a wake.  I baked 5 dozen sugar cookies while the kids played.

When I cleaned up from dinner and had the kids had settled at around 8 PM, it was time to start frosting the cookies.

“OK, I’m going to head up and take a shower and go to bed.” Mr. Gaga said coolly as he started up the stairs.

“Oh no you aren’t.” I said threateningly.  “You better take this black frosting and start with some Darth Vaders.”

He huffed and puffed but attempted to help while I was working diligently on my Storm Troopers.

He looked over with disgust…”What the hell is that?? That’s not a Storm Trooper…it’s a sad dog with a headband on!!!”

He had a point....

He had a point….


I had green and black frosting everywhere, the kitchen was trashed and I was delirious.

“I hope you are happy…from now on when you go to games or birthday parties keep your mouth shut!” I said with disgust.

By 9 o’clock he had completely abandoned ship.

I spent the entire night cursing him and George Lucas.

I was seeing double and exhausted when I finally finished all of the cookies.

But then they looked absolutely horrible…nothing like the box.  Nothing like Williams Sonoma told me they would look like…

I made Mr. Gaga come look at the cookies.

“I can’t see straight…my back and eyeballs are killing me….but does this just look like an entire rack of Saddam Hussein cookies?? That’s all I see.”


I ate the cookie on the bottom left because it looked like some sort of Arab dictator with sunglasses on….and I didn’t think that would be appropriate for a kids’ party.

“No they look fine!” he said wearily. “Just go to bed!”

“I can’t go to bed now!! I still have to do Boba Fett’s black trim and the red dots in the Yoda eyes!!”

In the end – they came out decent enough…..

4 cookies

This is not exactly what the ass-hats at Williams Sonoma had in mind…but it will have to do.

I think that the people who come up with these crafty little ideas at the Williams Sonoma corporation should be held accountable for the hours of torture they inflict on people…..

But in the meantime, in case you were wondering …I am the best mother ever.





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