The Real Princesses of Long Island-P.S. Please Don’t Watch That Show

A Garden hose.

A Garden hose. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

After looking at my thirtieth apartment in my quest for someplace that will rent to me, my husband and my three wild hooligan children, I had to run to Stop and Shop.  As I turn the corner, I see my sister, standing in front of the nursery school where she is a teacher’s aide, looking sour as all hell. So I pull over and she starts laughing.  She tells me she can’t believe she just got caught doing what she is doing.  Well, what the fuck are you doing, cause it looks like you are hookin?
So she tells me that the neighbor three houses down has been harassing the students and teachers for months.  He has vandalized cars, he has followed teachers home and he has cursed and screamed at the children ( they are all two-four years of age, mind you).  Today he got pissed at a mom that had just dropped her son off and due to her making a three point turn, he missed the traffic light and proceeded to follow her and pull up next to her at every traffic light and get out of his car and curse and scream at her with the baby in the car. My sister has had it.  The cops can’t do anything until he physically does something and the kid’s graduation is coming up and sissy is afraid he is going to ruin it.  So, there is a cop waiting around the corner, my sista is playing bait and she is going to taunt him into coming out of the house and flipping out.

I want to know why the cops didn’t arrest him for aggravated harassment when he pursued the mother in her car.  My sister said the mom didn’t call the cops, she called the school (dumbbell #1).  Have the cops been making police reports when they are called? Not until recently.  We had been calling the precinct, but their hands are tied until he commits an actual crime. From now on we will call 911 and they will make a report every time they come back to the school. (Dumbbell #2) What about your neighbors? He is trespassing through their yards and standing in their yard yelling at the students.  They aren’t home, she tells me.

“O.K. Ta, don’t one of you women have a phone with video on it? While he is screaming and cursing at the kids, whip a cellphone out and tape the bastard!”

“That’s a good idea.”, she tells me. Well no shit, Chet.

“Tara, what the hell is wrong with you people. No one is handling this right. First of all, while you are working your best right now at 8 p.m. to lure him out of the house to curse and scream at you, he isn’t even here.  Secondly, you and your coworkers need to invest in some airhorns. Does Ms. Anne have a garden hose in the play yard?”

“Yea, why?” she asks. At this point, I am thinking I am going to have to draw a picture for this poor fool, who was considered the scholar of the family because she got better test grades. Clearly, street smarts trump book smarts when it comes to life skills, otherwise known as aggravating your neighbor and putting him in a looney bin.

“You or one of your fellow teachers need to make sure the garden hose is ready and in hand. When fuckface peeks over the fence and starts screaming, blast that Mofo in the face with the hose.  Every time he shouts an expletive, sound the air horn. If you really want to get his drawers in a twist, while someone sprays his ass with the hose, have someone else throw a bag of flour at his ass.  Get the kids involved, give them each a little airhorn or a bag of flour. Do you need me to sub here on Friday? Should I come here with my kids, cause if he calls Quinn a motherfucker, Quinn will curse him out, feed him a soap sandwich and send him home crying to his mama with a kick in the ass.”

I proceeded to tell her that if he can get away with vandalizing her car because no one saw him do it, no one will see me let all the air out of his tires everyday, for a month. I schooled her on fighting fire with fire. I showed her how to download an airhorn app onto the iphone , which was an epic fail, but free and I am having fun with it at home.

We had a few laughs and decided to part ways, just as we pulled away, angry Nazi neighbor pulled into his driveway and went right to his bar/garage and had a cocktail.

We are the Princesses of Long Island. Not that I ever want to be called that. We aren’t all Jewish. Those who are Jewish don’t talk like those annoying girls on the show. We all don’t live with our parents until we find a well to do, dumb guy that will support us in exchange for lukewarm, lousy B.J.s for the rest of his life. I can be a lady and I can knock someone out if I had to. I live within my means, which is clearly why we are almost homeless, LOL (bad joke, I know). AND, everyone knows the North Shore sucks and South Shore is the shizzat. Who the hell wants to pick pebbles out of their crack after trying to go to the beach in Northport. South shore sand is smooth and lovely.

The only thing my Dad might have had to do was bail me and Sissy out of jail tonight after we clawed her mean,drunk neighbor to death. Even at that, he might of made us sit there and rot. Princesses my ass.

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New Event for the Summer Olympics-Geriatric Body Luging

Let me preface this by saying I love my mother and there is no intent to be mean in this post. It is all in good fun and she would laugh at it, mostly.   Except for the next few sentences.

My mom is a very proud “lady”. She never wears white after labor day or before memorial day, her shoes always match her bag, he undergarments are never showing and she wears a lot of fine jewelry.  She is also very hoity toity and holds herself in a class by herself, not required to follow the rules and laws of the common folk, such as the laws of gravity.

She is on vacation with my Dad right now in Hyannisport. They just arrived and went to the liquor store to get her wine for her to relax with in the hotel room. Somehow while walking down the street, she slipped and slid all the way down the block on her stomach and shins and elbows until she was stopped by crashing her dome into a steel pole. Thankfully, she is alright.  She called me, hysterical laughing about the incident and telling me that my poor Dad was shaking with worry.

I thought she should get checked out by a doctor, but she said she was fine. I could hear my Dad in the background saying that he thought he was going to see blood and that a man from one of the stores she slid by came running out to call an ambulance, but she said she never lost consciousness and had already had two glasses of wine and she felt great, but sore.

Now this is doubly funny because Liam had fallen off a pony over the weekend, as gracefully as a sack of bowling balls. He slid off the side of the animal and landed with a thud and a grunt. While everyone was having a good giggle, I mentioned that it must be genetic. Liam slips off a pony, my nona was constantly falling off or over something, may she rest in peace, I am a regular Lucille Ball and my mother is no slouch in the falling department either.

Well, my mother had an odd reaction.  She quickly mentioned that she was not a clutz or clumsy. That she has only ever fallen due to something being in her way or her tripping over something.  How this is different from being clumsy is a mystery to me, but I digress.  According to her, she is as graceful as a prima ballerina. Whatever, Ma. Keep telling yourself that.

So then she calls with this doozy of a story and I had to say that this all sounds very familiar and didn’t we just have this conversation.  She says yes, but she didn’t fall because she was clumsy, she fell because the sidewalks were in poor shape. Was she not looking at the sidewalk, did she not see that they were in disrepair? Did the sidewalk jump up or stick their leg out and trip her? I don’t know.

After a few more details about her graceful entrance into Hyannisport, I ask her how my Dad is.  She tells me he is ok, but he is more than a little tired from their trip, even though they haven’t done anything yet. I know where this is going. This is going to the land of my Dad is lazy and doesn’t do anything to entertain my mother and their vacation stunk and my Dad is an old fart and blah, blah, blah. So I tell my mother that he is probably tired because seeing her overzealous tryout for the Summer Olympics by performing a dry, body luge was simply too much for him to take. He probably got a quick rush of adrenaline after she started picking up speed while sliding down the street on an invisible slip and slide and that now he is crashing because he knows she is ok.  I also mention to her that it is too soon to try out for the next summer Olympics and that the body luge is not yet a category.  Keep your graceful ass off the floor before Daddy has to cruise around town with you in a hovaround for the duration of their vacation.

Parents! You can’t take them anywhere.

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You know summer’s coming – when girls start showing their belly-buttons

OMG this was sooo funny to me, but I am a simple girl. lol

Things Could Be Worse


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Birthdays, Petting Zoos and Animal Poop


My Quinnie the Pooh turned four on Sunday. In true crazed mom style, we celebrated for the whole Week.  He had a party on Wednesday at daycare, then a weekend sleepover Friday and Saturday at Grandma and Papa’s and finally the big party on Sunday. Birthdays are a very big deal in this house because you are only a kid once.

Quinn is the love of my life, just as Liam and AvaRose are.  He amazes me everyday and I still can’t understand how someone produced by the same parents can be on the other end of the spectrum as his brother, as far as personality is concerned. He is more about the celebration than the receiving of presents. He doesn’t have any idea what he wants for his birthday or what type of theme he wants for his party, he just wants to have a great time. He knows he wants balloons and he knows he wants company and that is it.

I brought my little Saint Francis to the petting zoo for the first part of our celebration.  He greeted each and every animal ever so gently, he whispered in their ears that he was here to take care of them and not to worry.  He approached them softly and quietly as not to scare them and he loved each and every one of them.  He was amused by the monkeys but not loving the noisy peacocks.  He scolded them, as well as the bearded goats who fought constantly. “Knock it off, ya jackass.” he yelled. Not exactly appropriate language for a four-year old, but I ignored it, hoping it would stop. He reveled in the joy of being four, celebrating his day with the animals. He even went for a pony ride, which in the past had been to scary.  His only concern this time was that the pony would eat him and that the pony was walking in its own poop. Funny, that his brother had just fallen off the pony while demonstrating to Quinn how safe a pony ride is.  Oddly he was not concerned about falling off the pony. Poop was the issue of the day and once it was noticed in the pony corral, it was noticed and discussed at every exhibit thereafter.
“There is poop on my shoes. I am standing in poop. Look, the cow is pooping. There is poop falling out of that goats ass. Grandma has poop stuck to her shoe. Where did all this poop come from? Is this poop coming home with us?”

You get the idea, but no worries, it wasn’t a shitty day. It was great. It was loaded with excitement, wonder and an appreciation for all living things. My boy just took it all in and thanked his grandparents and his mom for all of his wonderful birthday “stuff”.

I am so happy, my heart is overflowing.  I am happy because Quinn is happy and I am happy because I have him and he is mine.

I wanted this child so badly and I waited for him for a long time.  I had several miscarriages in between having Liam and having Quinn, and after those, I couldn’t get pregnant at all. I had actually just decided that we were blessed with a beautiful, healthy child in Liam and if he is all I am meant to have, I am happy.  Two weeks later I found out I was pregnant with Quinn.  I had a healthy, normal pregnancy only to labor for 23 hours and hemorrhage badly after his birth. My husband was totally freaked out about it and we had made a conscious decision that Quinn would be our last baby. God had other plans for us, but we didn’t know that yet.

He was the easiest baby ever. Just the most content, quiet and happy child and he still is.  He is extremely silly and very mischievous, but loving and kind and hysterically funny. I am happy because when I had AvaRose, I felt like I broke his little heart. It is only recently that he has realized that she is not a threat and that mama really does love him just as much now as I did before Rosebud came along. He is my pal and my heart and he knows I love his little face and his inappropriate commentary about his own penis. I love that he is so small and so skinny and a total ass kicker at the same time. His brother is three times his size and Quinn takes no shit from him and I am so happy about that. I am happy because nothing phases him, nothing ruins his good time or takes away from his enjoyment of the simplest things. I am happy because I am his. So I celebrated him and his birthday in true crazy mom style, because that is how I roll. While I enjoy all of the celebrating, it is bittersweet for me. I don’t want him to grow up. I want to freeze time and keep him just as he is now. I want him to always be happy with the simple things and I want to always be the one he runs to when he needs something fixed. I want to always have the ability to fix the things that need fixing. But I know that isn’t realistic and I know that he has to grow up, despite my hoping he won’t and babying him just a little bit more than I did his older brother.

Happy Birthday, Quinn. May your greatest worry in life be the goat poop stuck on the bottom of your shoe.

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Lil’ Wayne – Lotta Wayne

I had to repost this because I just shot tea out of my nose. the simplest things are sometimes just so smart.

Things Could Be Worse


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Mother’s Day- A Day Where I Do Everything I Usually Do And Get Lip From My Mother-In-Law

I will never learn. Never, ever. Or, my mother is right (holy shit I hope she didn’t just sense me writing that) and I will always and forever do the right thing, even if it’s bringing me nothing but torment.

Originally, Mother’s Day was to be spent at my sister’s, celebrating my nephew’s birthday with the family, but my brother-in-law had not been feeling well and it didn’t seem right to have everyone go over there and have him slaving over the grill. I simply cannot go a Mother’s Day without seeing my mom.  She is my best friend and she does a lot for me and even more for my children and I love her.  She would be sad if she didn’t get to see us. So I decided to invite everyone over here and I would cook and it would be a relaxed day with all of us together. Except I was the furthest thing from relaxed.  Quinnie had some unknown skin thing that was or wasn’t chicken pox ( as of now, I am going with wasn’t). I was up too late the night before and couldn’t get my ass in gear that morning. I thought my husband had gotten sweet Italian sausage for my gravy like I had asked, but when I went to get it out of the fridge, I found links of breakfast sausage. What the &^*$! They were out of luigiana sausage and the butcher told him that breakfast sausage and sweet Italian sausage were the same. Only an Irish person would believe that, and that is what I sent to the food store. Of course I had extended the invitation to my mother-in-law as well, since I could not exclude her, for she is my beloved’s mother and my children’s grandmother, at least by blood.

As I always say, no good deed goes unpunished.  I also always say that I was born at night, but not last night, that I am surrounded by assassins, that my boss has me working like a one armed paper hanger with crabs and fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me, but I digress. Back to me being punished for my good deeds.

She was the first to arrive. No one was here except for me and rosebud.  The boys were at the park with Geno and my parents hadn’t gotten there yet. We exchanged gifts and she asked me if my sister was coming.  I explained that her and her family were doing there own thing. We exchanged small talk about how she was looking for an affordable apartment and how she takes her 14 year old dog to a holistic vet that only accepts cash. Thankfully, the boys and my parents arrived at the same time and we sat at the table waiting for the water to boil for the pasta and making conversation. She asked me, my mother and my father if my sister was coming, again. Then the unsolicited, ding dong advice began to flow like a river of bullshit. First was how I should try the Feingold diet for Liam and his ADHD. Perhaps she should try the Feingold Diet because clearly she has attention problems, we already had this conversation over Easter dinner.

Next topic was Bill Maher and how he is an atheist or some shit because as soon as religion comes up I have tune her ass out. I have faith. I believe in God and I believe you should treat others as you expect to be treated. I do not have a lot of faith in organized crime religion, but I do not judge those who do. She is a fanatical Born Again Christian and when I say fanatical I mean she is the Bin Laden of the Born Again Christian faith.

Anyway, she proceeded to get more and more irritated over Bill Maher and my dope husband fell right into the trap and they started to disagree and I saw my Dad’s eyes roll back into his head. All poor Geno had said was that Maher had said something funny. I know for a fact Gene doesn’t like him either. Anyway, I told that them the conversation had to stop immediately.  She argued that they weren’t fighting, but I stuck to my guns and just said that no good could come from that conversation, so they moved on to another topic.  During the next hour, she eluded to her son being a dishonest and immoral person. Can you feel the love? Then I heard the word muslim and Shariah Law and I had to difuse that too.  My poor father started to talk about the gym that he and my mother go to and his yoga routine and wouldn’t you know that yoga includes Satanic practices and that my mother in law has advised people in the past that a true Christian can not do yoga. Lastly, the straw that broke the camel’s back and almost had me breaking her face was her criticism of me, to my mother, while I was five feet away from her as if I couldn’t hear her or was deaf, dumb and blind. Mind you I spent the day cooking, serving, cleaning up and taking care of the kids. My husband is absent minded and was busy socializing and someone has to take care of the kids. While I was scolding Liam and wrestling a diaper onto AvaRose, Quinn started to act out. I told him that if he didn’t stop, he would be punished. The Blessed Mother turns to my mother and says ” You know, she makes threats but she never follows through. She has to actually do something.”

Well, I don’t know if I can express in words what happened next, but I will do my best. In one quick motion, as if Jesus Christ himself had bestowed upon me super powers, I was up from sitting on the floor with Ava in my arms and across the room right at my mother-in-laws feet and said the following, all while my head spun around and my hair burst into flames:

“First of all, I can hear you, so don’t talk about me to my mother as if I am not here or I am deaf. Secondly, don’t you dare tell me that I don’t discipline my kids when it is well known within a 15 mile radius that I am uber strict and do not spare the rod. If you want to talk discipline, speak to your son who is just as well known for being the weakest link and has overridden Liam’s last three punishments this week alone.”

Then I had to clam up because I thought I was going to hit her. I saw the look on my mother’s face and I knew I said to much and let my temper get the better of me. It is not that my mom thought I was wrong, she just feels like I shouldn’t let ole Dot get me to that point. When she called me this morning, she told me she didn’t know whether to run or duck. Truth be told, I have never, ever been so annoyed with my mother in law.

She only sees my kids for the major holidays and birthdays, so that is seven times a year, if she comes for Christmas, which sometimes she doesn’t.  She complains that she never sees her grandkids, yet when she comes over, she doesn’t spend any time with them, she spends the evening at the table chewing my father or some other victim’s ear off about how they are worshiping the devil by going to yoga, or how the president isn’t a citizen, or that the end of the world is coming and that only the Born Agains will be saved. Dear Lord, I am telling you now, I can’t believe that You would save a group of people who openly preach hatred for any group that doesn’t agree with their beliefs.  I am not saying that they  have to go the Hell, but they can’t go to heaven. Amen.  She complains that her son never calls her, yet there isn’t a visit that goes by without her insulting him or taking digs at him or saying inappropriate things to my kids. Yesterday was just like no other visit we have ever had. It was like she did a bump before she got there, sat at the table and unleashed her verbal diarrhea on all of us. And Sunday is Quinnie’s birthday and I have to see her again.  It is just too soon and I know I will be too sensitive so I have to start drinking today in order to guarantee that I will be  numb by Sunday.  It is my sweet baby boy fourth birthday and I will not have that shit. I will not have it!

I don’t hold her beliefs against her.  I am friendly with tons of people that don’t share my beliefs and vice versa. I don’t care that she is Born Again, I don’t care that she hates Obama and believes he is a Muslim, Non-Citizen and that the end of the world is May 21st, 2012, no wait it is December 23rd, 2012, no wait, the Mayans were wrong, it’s the next one.  I don’t want to be beaten to death with her beliefs. I don’t want to be told I am going to burn in the fiery depths of hell because I don’t share her beliefs. I am already in hell when she is at my house.

So today was my Mother’s Day do over.  Quinnie had to stay home from daycare due to his uncharacterized jibopitas, so I stayed home with him and only him.  Liam had school and AvaRose went to daycare cause bad enough that lady was making $120 today for one kid that wasn’t even there, she wasn’t getting it with nobody there. He didn’t want to go out, he wanted to watch Curious George and Pocahantas. He was so happy he had me all to himself, he told me “I wuv dis day!” I sat in my chair with my feet up, working from home while he watched his shows, until 3 pm.  It was glorious and I felt recharged and he felt happy and special because he had me all to himself. Me, his spawn of the devil mother that snake charmed Dot’s sweet Irish son into falling in love with me and having a family. What a splendidly perfect day. Winning!!! Happy Mother’s Day!

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The Versatile Blogger Award-Oh, I’m Versatile Alright


It’s Saturday night, date night at my house.  I just finished baking for tomorrow and cleaning the house and getting the kids ready for bed, all while trying to be sexy for date night, as if I have to try to persuade my husband. Anyway, I had to post this because I slacked off the last time I was nominated for an award.

So, another lovely, much more talented than myself blogger nominated my bitter, sarcastic musings for an award.  I am so grateful and so surprised.  Thank you Tric, for the nomination.  I love your blog, My Thoughts on a Page, please keep up the great work.

In true slacker fashion, I never finished nominating other bloggers from my last award, so I am going to nominate everyone in this blog.

So, in no particular order, please check out the following blogs that I have decided that I love and must check in on a few times a week.

Don of All Trades-I’ve nominated him before, but I have to say again, that he is really an exceptionally funny guy and I am a firm believer in laughter being the best medicine. Who doesn’t need a laugh?

The Results May Vary- this is a new favorite of mine. Parenting stories and observations from the male perspective

50 Plus and Loving Life- I follow her for her comedic posts

Broken Condoms- She should be followed for the name of her blog alone

I’ll Call It Like I See It-and she does.

Things Could Be Worse-another blog I go to for a laugh. pictures are really worth a thousand words

I’m Fine, But My Mommy Has Issues- Just watch the slide show dedicated to her daughter. Her brutal honesty is refreshing

Normal is the New Boring- This is a story of a woman’s experience with her exceptional son

Motherhood is Not for Sissies- and truth be told, it isn’t

Mancakes-this woman is just awesome. I have nominated her before and I think she is a famous blogger, but check her out.  her blog is smart and funny.

Whiny Baby-fresh thoughts from a young married school teacher

Special Little People-Aromatherapy for children

Mabe, With Love-love her crafts

No Ono O Pono- an inspiring blog written by a woman surviving with cancer

Living with ADHD–for obvious reasons, I follow this one.  He is a young adult with ADHD and he is very honest about his trials and tribulations with it



1- I’ve slept with everyone I ever made out with, minus two guys

2- As whorey as that last one made me sound, I can still count on one hand how many people I did the deed with

3- I over decorate my house for every holiday.  Like a freak

4-I took liam’s adhd medicine for a week before he started it because I wanted to see what kind of effect it would have on him

5-I hate feet

6-I think penises are ridiculous looking lol.  I can’t even say it without laughing

7- I am terrified of horror movies

8-I don’t drink beer because after two I would have to be rolled out of the room and I would never get drunk from two beers and that is the whole point of having a drink in the first place

9-I swam laps when I was pregnant with my son until two weeks before he was born. I only stopped because I swallowed water and threw up in the pool

10- I knew I was going to marry my husband after a month of dating

11-when I am sick, I still want my mommy

I follow a lot of blogs written by parents that are realistic.  I want to hear about other people’s normal, human struggles with their kids, not that I want people to struggle, but I can’t relate to people who talk like  the sun shines out of their kids ass 24/7. Of course, I love my children and there are days when I truly believe the sun rises and sets out of the crack of their asses, but there are days when they are little, manipulative mother effers and other days when they act as smart as a sack of hammers.  It makes me feel  like less of a failure to know that there are other people struggling through the same things.

The other half of the blogs I follow are for an escape from my reality.  Sometimes it’s about the exploits of some hot, young single girl, sometimes it’s about how a retired, grandma is passing time.  A lot of times it is for humor because I love to laugh. I am sorry I don’t know how to properly link back to the blogs. I even googled it and I am still doing it wrong.  I suck. Please check these out, they are worth the read.  And special thanks again to Trick at for nominating me.

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