How My Kid's School is Tormenting Me

Each time I see an email from my kid's school pop up in my inbox my sphincter puckers. For the more simple minded "sphincter" means asshole.

After 21 years of parenting I think I suffer from post traumatic stress disorder related to bad news from my kid's school.  The emails I fear the most are the ones saying "There has been a case of lice reported in your child's classroom" or "There has been a case of strep throat reported in your child's classroom."

Don't get me wrong I appreciate the heads up on a possible plague making it's way through my kid's school.  My first thought is always the same. What asshole sent their kid to school with lice or strep?

This invariably leads to me interrogating my child, "Who has been scratching their head? Has someone had a sore throat?"  Somehow knowing who patient zero is makes me feel better.  I just like having someone to blame.

Following the interrogation of my child my head begins to itch (if the report was of lice), or my throat hurts (if it was strep).  So not only do I have massive anxiety and feel my family is under attack, but I'm then concerned that I may have a case of hypochondria on top of my PTSD.

Most times the emails from the school are harmless.  I think they should start them off with "No one has lice or strep", and then go on to say whatever they have to say.  At this point it doesn't matter.  The damage is done.  This is just another reason why summers are less stressful.

Top 5 Fitness Club Tips

Nothing makes me want to slap a bitch more than when a skinny woman says "I eat whatever I want and I hardly workout."  I knew a woman who said that once.  First off, she was lying through her capped teeth.

I know this because I followed her for awhile on facebook and a tiny bit in real life.  She DID go to the gym, and I'm pretty sure she was bulimic.  I too could eat whatever I wanted and not gain weight if I did the one finger toss up after.

Unfortunately for me I gain weight just by looking at fatty food.  My body attracts calories the way a trailer park attracts tornadoes. For this reason I have to get my heifer ass back to the gym.

There is no reason for me to not be working out regularly, other than I hate it. I have a diamond level membership at Lifetime Fitness.  I upgraded my membership thinking that if I paid more I would go more.  It didn't really work out that way.

The good news is I'm actually going to the gym now, and making sure I get my money's worth.  For starters I use at least 4-5 towels when I'm there.  One for the pool, two for the steam room and two for after my shower.

The fabulous thing about Diamond level clubs is they have awesome toiletries.  I use everything when I'm there, whether I need it or not.  Thankfully they keep a huge stock of Q-tips as I keep running out at home.

Because I paid a membership fee for years and hardly went, I feel like I own the place, or at least have stock in it.  Lifetime is actually owned by a very handsome Middle Eastern man, Bahram Akradi.

Bahram Akradi aka: Hunky Gym Owner

After spending some time at the club recently, I have a few suggestions for Bahram that he may want to implement in his clubs nationwide, at least at the Diamond Club level.  I give you my Top Five Tips for Lifetime Fitness:

1. New policy: Women can not show up on the gym floor wearing full make-up with their hair down.  Lifetime is not a strip club nor a singles bar.  Show up looking like crap like the rest of us.

2. If  a Diamond level member yell out "Shit I love this song" while listening to 80's music on her iPod, the staff shall not reprimand her for yelling "shit".  For some of us 80's music is the only thing keeping us on that damn treadmill.

3.  All fit men between the ages of 25 and 55 must workout without a shirt on.

4. Members no longer need to wipe down their cardio machines after use.  I'm not pissing on it, it's just a little sweat.

5. No male trainer can be hired unless he has a little bit of gray hair.  If these 20 something year old trainers continue to call me "Ma'am" I will continue to respond with "Say that again and I'll kick you in the nuts!"

You Say Stalker Like It's a Bad Thing

The internet and caller ID have changed the playing field when it comes to what might be considered stalking.  I'm not going to lie, I have been accused of being a stalker.  Mostly by my now 19 year old daughter.  She calls it stalking, I call it parenting.

This got me thinking about whether or not I have stalker tendencies.  In Middle School I followed a boy named Keoni all over the school without him knowing, because I liked him.  Not too strange.

In my early 20's I called a guy I had just started dating, over and over again until I caught him at home.  This was pre-cell phones.  Sometimes I would call him 10 times in a row.  Imagine how embarrassed I was when I found out what caller ID was and that he had it.

Caller ID cramped my style until I learned about caller ID blocking, then I was back in the game.  I've called an ex-boyfriend when I knew he wouldn't be home just so I could hear his voice on his voicemail.  Come on, who hasn't done that?

I've joined a gym because a guy I was into belonged to that gym.  Effective yes, stalkerish not really.

When my now 19 year old was about 15 she snuck out of the house,  I found out who the boy was that picked her up.  I knew the neighborhood he lived in, but not which house.  With my daughter safely at home I knocked on four doors before I found his house.  Lucky for him he wasn't home, but his sister was.  I told her she had better hope his parents find him before I do.

I then went to where I heard he worked and told everyone there he was a pedophile.  For record he was just two years older than my daughter and nothing actually happened.  That last bit was probably crossing a line, but you don't mess with a momma bear.  I also found his mom on facebook and let her know what evil her son was up to.  Parenting yes, stalking I don't think so.

I wouldn't label myself as a stalker, as much I would call it being passionate and innovative.  It's not like I've gone through someone's garbage.  Okay actually I did, but it was my daughter's and she was up to something.  Again, parenting.

What or who is Your Spirit Guide?

In the Hawaiian culture there is something called an aumakua.  Simply put, an aumakua is a spirit guide in the form of an animal or some other part of nature.  The belief is that it is the reincarnation of an ancestor that acts as a spirit guide and protector.  At least this is my understanding of it.  Don't go quoting me in a report on aumakuas or anything.

The American Indians also believe in spirit guides in the form of animals.  Being that I'm both Hawaiian and American Indian, I've been contemplating what or who my spirit guide is, and I've figured it out.

My dwarf crush actor Peter Dinklage

My spirit guide is the North American Dwarf.  Now, hear me out;  Being friends with a dwarf has been on my bucket list for sometime.  As is the case with a spirit guide, I run into dwarfs during times of needed protection, like when I travel.

Just a month or so ago I was in New York.  I walked out of my hotel for the first time and boom, walked by a dwarf.  I immediately knew I was protected and would have a safe trip.

The same thing has happened in Seattle, New Orleans and even Europe.  I seem to run into more dwarfs when I travel than any other time.

Despite my strong affinity for my spirit guide, friendship with one continues to elude me.  I'm wondering if it isnt' because dwarfs are meant to be my spirit guide and not my friend?  Hmmmm.....

Regardless, I'm totally into dwarf and actor Peter Dinklage.  If anyone knows him contact me.  If I'm going to have a dwarf buddy, I think it should be Peter.

Who or what is your spirit guide?

Psychic or Psychotic

I'm sitting up in my bed entertaining the idea that I may be psychic. In an effort to not stuff my face after 8:00pm I decided to do some channel surfing to occupy my mind. I came across America's Psychic Challenge on Lifetime.

The show takes several psychics through different challenges, which they are scored on.  Everything from finding a kid who was hiding, to determining the relationship between two people.

Before each commercial America's Psychic Challenge gives the viewer a challenge.  I nailed two out of three.  I knew which toy was the favorite of the fat asian baby, and I knew which color the roulette wheel was going to land on.  The third challenge was picking which of three guys was a juggler, and I missed that one.  I think in part because I was distracted by how weaselly one of the guys looked.

Does this alone mean I'm psychic?  Well no, but I'm exploring the possibility by watching future episodes of this show.  I also see it as a sign that maybe I should go to Vegas with some cash.

Intuition, psychic powers, whatever you want to call it is an interesting thing.  It seems to be rather hit or miss.  I have a knack for finding my son's cell phone, which he repeatedly looses, but I can't find my car when I come out of Target.

I'm probably more lucky than psychic.  Hopefully after a few more episodes I'll be able to determine that.  In the meantime I'm exploring flights to Vegas.

Trapped In The Bathroom

This afternoon I enjoyed a lovely lunch with an even lovlier friend at The Lakeshore Grill in Macy's. They have the best lobster bisque I've ever had, and they only serve it during the holidays. I'm also a huge fan of their iced tea.

After some great conversation and about three glasses of iced tea I had to pee like a race horse. Standing in the women's bathroom with my legs crossed, praying that I wouldn't sneeze, I waited and waited, and waited for no one to leave a stall.

I don't know what the heck those women were doing in there but I was starting to sweat. Sometimes I think women take so long in a stall because they often wait so long to get in. For God's sake it's a toilet not a rent controled apartment!

At this point I was desperate and my options were limited. I didn't think I could make the walk across Macy's to theri other restroom. Pissing myself as I raced through the lingerie section was not an option. I knew what I had to do. If If a guy could cut off his hand to free himself from being trapped by a giant rock, I too would do the unthinkable to survive.

I ducked out the door and slowly peeked into the men's restroom. No one was in there so I made a dash for a stall with a door. First off, why is it we can put a man on the moon, but we can't make a men's bathroom smell halfway decent? This was a nice restaurant but the bathroom smelled like it was painted with pee.

My desperation outweighed my disguist and I got down to business. As I opened the flood gates to urination relief, I contemplated why it was that we women never had adequte bathroom facilities. Before I could come up with an answer the bathroom door opened.

As panic set in I looked around my stall for an exit other than out the door. There were no windows. I was going to have to wait it out. But what if he had to go number two and waited for the one stall that I was in? Thankfully he approached a urinal and proceeded to relieve himself, complete with a celebratory fart at the end.

If he had only peed, I might have considered leaving my refuge and explaining why I was in there, but after he let one out there was no way our eyes could meet. As he washed his hands I cursed the women who occupied the women's stalls for too long.

I'm sure only minutes had passed, but it felt like hours. Finally he left the bathroom. I waited 10 seconds to make sure he would be well away from the entrance to the bathroom, then I high tailed it out of there. I don't regret my decision. I did what I had to do. But, I feel compelled to make a plea to women everywhere. We as a sisterhood need to practice speed peeing, and get out of those stalls quicker! Stop the madness ladies, get in and get out. The men's room is no place for a lady.

Mini-mom Takes Manhattan

Panic attacks are not a part of my history, but I found myself feeling like I couldn't breathe, as if I was going to pass out, slouched over my shopping cart at Cub Foods, sobbing next to the brownie mixes.

My sister's and I had just picked up my mother's ashes, so I suppose my panic attack had everything to do with that.  In hindsight it made sense that I was overcome with emotion at Cub Foods as it's where my mother use to grocery shop.  I'm a Byerly's fan myself as I have an aversion to packing my own groceries.

My second panic attack was the next day when I had a horrible feeling that the left side of my back was black, empty and needed to be cut out.  It's where my left kidney used to be before I donated it to my mom seven years ago.

Apparently this feeling isn't all that uncommon in organ donors who have lost the person they donated an organ too.  Learning that made me feel better, if not less crazy.

Not looking forward to dealing with not only the loss of my mother, but potential phantom kidney decay, I decided that I needed a way to help me deal with what I was going through.

One week after my mother died I arrived in New York.  I had already had this trip scheduled.

When my mom was cremated my sister and I ordered little mini urns with a small amount of our mom's ashes in each.  We took to calling them "Mini-mom".

I brought my "Mini-mom" with me to New York.  She had never been to the Big Apple before and I knew she would have loved to go.

People have different ways of dealing with grief, and loss.  When you loose someone close to you other people tend to accept what they might normally consider odd behavior, because you are grieving and all.

My goal was to take my Mini-Mom around New York, taking photos along the way.

Mini-mom at the Top of the Rock

Our first day in New York was a tough, but panic attack free day. We visited the Top of the Rock, which had the most amazing views of the city.  You wouldn't think you could shock New Yorkers.  Try pulling out your mother's ashes and asking them to snap a photo of you and mini-mom.  That surprises them.

Mini-mom under the Bow Bridge in Central Park

 I learned quick that it was better to not tell people what you were doing, but to just let them look at you inquisitively when you placed a mini urn on the ground to take a photo.

Mini-mom at The Palm Court in the Plaza Hotel

The other thing I figured out was that if you are in a public place, such as a restaurant, it is best to whip out your mini-mom and snap the photo when you are done eating and ready to leave.  Just incase it makes the staff uneasy and they ask you to leave.

Mini-mom playing checkers in Central Park

We are three days into our trip and I've gotten very comfortable shooting photos of mini-mom, even sharing what I'm doing with people we have met along the way.  Most aren't freaked out by it.  I've been finding that elderly people get the biggest kick out of it.

Mini-mom at the Champagne Bar at The Plaza

Mini-mom has become quite the lush since we have been in New York.  We can hardly keep her out of the bars ;)

I know the change of scenery has helped me greatly.  I haven't had a panic attack or breakdown since leaving home a few days ago.  It's harder to be around the familiar.

For now I feel like I'm on just another adventure with my mom.  One of the many that we have had over the years.  I'll be home in two days and back to my routine, which I know will be harder to deal with.

I'm thinking that if I'm home and having a tough time, or the panic attacks start sneaking up on me, I'll just grab mini-mom and head out for an adventure around my own town.  My mom had an adventurous spirit, more than her body could handle.  Those adventures don't have to stop.

Donna-Gail Wilcock June 18th, 1952 - October 26th 2011

My mother held me when I took my first breathes in this world, and I held her hand as she took her last. Yesterday on October 26th, 2011 shortly before 5:00pm my mom Donna-Gail Wilcock passed away.

To me she was mom, to many others she was DG, Donna-Gail, Donna, or that lady who can't order something simple off a restaurant menu, but has to have everything custommized. She liked what she liked, wanted what she wanted and made no appologies for it.

She pushed me to think and live outside the box. One rainy summer day when my son Jared was about two, he wanted to take off his clothes and run around outside in the rain. As he kept stripping down and heading for the door, I kept pulling him back in. My mom was there and she said "Just let him, it sounds like fun." She took her naked grandson's hand and ran around outside dancing in the rain with him. She kept her clothes on, thank God as they were in the front yard. They both came back in soaked but giddy from their adventure.

My mom loved a good laugh and was a good sport when it came to laughing at herself. She appreciated my sense of humor and brand of humor. Whether I was throwing fake dog poo at her or covering her car with magnetic bullett holes, she laughed with us. Often after yelling "What is wrong with you?", but she did laugh.

She loved traditions, her own traditions of course. Every year on the day of the first snow fall she and I go to a coffee shop for a decadent drink. Sometimes it's hot cocoa, a mocha or a chai latte. Just a few weeks ago she reminded me that I better not forget to pick her up and take her to the coffee shop on the first snow day.

Seven years ago my mom had kidney failure and underwent a kidney transplant using one of my kidneys. She did well for years but struggled with a suppressed immune system due to the anti rejection drugs she had to take. A few weeks ago she became very ill with resperatory issues.

She went to the hospital where she was admitted with a lung infection. Several days later she was moved to the ICU where she went onto a ventilator. Despite the amazing care she received by teams of medical professionals at the University of Minnesota Medical Center, her infection spread throughout her body, her organs started to shut down and she went into a coma.

My mom made it clear to my sister, myself and her husband Corey that she did not want to be kept alive on a machine once we knew she was not going to recover. I'm so thankful that we had those conversations with her when we did.

Yesterday I woke up, and before I could open my eyes I had a vision of my mom as a tiny fairy trying to fly away, but she coudln't because she was chained to a body, her body. My mom loved fairies and I know it was her way of letting me know she was ready to be free and that I needed to hurry up and come to terms with it because she had things to do. As usual, my mother had her own schedule.

When my sister and I got to the hospital yesterday it was made clear to all of us that she was not going to make it, no matter what medical treatments were done. We gathered our famiily together including her four grandchildren and spent the day together with my mom.

We played Hawaiian music in her room, we gave her a manicure and pedicure. Her granddaughters painted her nails one last time. I brushed her hair and gave her a headband with a flower. At first I put a blingy rhinestone headband on her but heard her voice in my head saying "Do I look like Paris Hilton to you?". Bling is my thing, not my mom's.

We shared stories about my mom and other life adventures. We cried together and we laughed. We had a beautiful day saying our goodbyes and letting her know that we would be okay. We let her know that we were so thankful for the time we had with her.

Shortly before 5:00pm while listening to Iz Kamakawiwo'ole sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", surrounded by her husband, her daughthers, and our families she passed away without pain, enveloped in love.

My mother made it clear that she did not want a funeral but would allow a Celebration of Life party. We are celebrating her life on Saturday October 29th from Noon-4:00pm at my sister's house, 440 West Lake Street in Excelsior. All who would like to join us are welcome to come.

We can honor my mother by living outside the box once in awhile. Dancing in the rain, having breakfast for dinner, or befriending a hitchhiker as she did on our trip to South Dakota in June.

Mostly we can honor her by spending time with the ones we love, not letting our differences keep us apart, or getting caught up in conflicts. Everyday we have with a loved one, no matter how imperfect it is, is a blessing. Everyday is a new day, never touched, still fresh in the box. Open it, step into it and make it your own as my mother did.

Minneapolis St. Paul Magazine Best of the Best Party

Jennifer, Connie, Natalie and Barrie with new friends

Minneapolis St. Paul Magazine once again hosted their Best of the Best Party in downtown Minneapolis.  This year's party had a Las Vegas theme.  There was a DJ playing what sounded like latin music while two scantily clad young women danced along. I wasn't sure how that played into the Vegas theme.  Although the topless hunks in bow ties was a plus.

We arrived for the VIP hour or what I like to call "An hour to stuff my face with minimal interference".  The best restaurants that the Twin Cities has to offer were set up with samples galore.  I ate my way through several of the rooms sampling sushi from Seven, chocolate cake from Kincaid's and more.

I must say that this year's party was NOT as good as last years.  From the decoration to the entertainment last years Mardis Gras themed party was better put together.

We still had a great time and I look forward to the Best of the Best party next year.  

The Ultimate Pajama Party

Tina, Gretchen, Lana, Slade and Natalie at the VIP Party

To say that I'm a fan of The Real Housewives franchise on Bravo would be an understatement.  I've seen every episode of each Housewives city from Orange County to New York since the first cat fight aired a few years ago.

Recently two of my favorite guilty pleasures melted together in an evening of worthy of its own reality TV show.  The best thing about January is that The Ultimate Pajama Party happens.  This year Gretchen Rossi from the Real Housewives of Orange County attended along with her stud muffin boyfriend Slade who is also on the show.

Lana, Slade, and Natalie

My friend Tina, my sister Lana and I had a blast at the VIP pre-party held at Crave at West End.  I enjoyed chatting with Gretchen about her handbag line the Gretchen Christine collection.  Lana cornered Slade and got the dirt on what his ex-girlfriend Jo from The Real Housewives of Orange County is now up to.

Mistress Ginger is in the pink wig and has been "Curing hot messes since 2011"

After the VIP party we hit The Ultimate Pajama party and enjoyed, shopping, massage, dancing and the "Tell your problems to a gay guy booth" with Mistress Ginger, all in our PJs.  Much to my delight there was a psychic den and I was able to spend some time with Pet Psychic Janet Roper to get some insight on why my puppy Loki is not yet potty trained.

Bill Tamlyn and Jake Bowers from One Man Minneapolis

Guys from One Man Minneapolis were volunteering at the party and helping to raise money for Dress for Success, the charity the party benefited.  Both were auctioned off during a live auction hosted by Mrs. Minnesota United States Wendi Russo and Gretchen Rossi.  Both ladies did a great job raising money for Dress for Success.

With Tammy Hauser, the Goddess behind The Ultimate Pajama Party

This year Ultimate Pajama Party creator Tammy Hauser out did herself.  Each year the party gets better and better and is something I look forward to each year!

Tina, Natalie and Lana at the PJ party

You Give Me Fever, Arctic Fever

Arctic Fever Ice Princess Sara Plehal with Ice Princess Judges

We had the fever this weekend, Arctic Fever that is.  This weekend was the 5th annual Arctic Fever event in Excelsior.  Sleigh rides, dog sledding, cross country ski races and an Ice Princess contest were just a few of the activities going on around town.

Armed with long underwear I ventured out into the single digit temps and was a judge for the outdoor Arctic Fever Ice Princess Contest.  The other judges were Jennifer Burish from Avanti, and Mrs. Excelsior Elizabeth Hopfinspirger.

Ice Princess Judges

Once again the Arctic Fever event was the place to be this weekend.  It makes winter tolerable, and reminds us of the fun side of winter in Minnesota.

The Road to Becoming Mrs. Minnesota

Mayor Ruehl with Mrs. Excelsior

There is a new Mrs. Excelsior in town and her name is Elizabeth Hopfinspirger.  I attended her official banner presentation with Excelsior Mayor Nick Ruehl.  Mayor Ruehl has been such a great supporter of previous Mrs. Excelsiors and their volunteer work, along with the International pageant system.

Hopfenspirger volunteers with Jenny's Light, an organization dedicated to raising awareness and educating others on postpartum depression.  She will represent Excelsior along with other city title holders at the Mrs. Minnesota pageant in March.

Here is an article from the Sun Sailor about her. More than a title for new Mrs. Excelsior.

I've met some amazing women through the Mrs. Minnesota International pageant since I was Mrs. Excelsior in 2008.  This pageant system provides a platform for women to make a difference in their community.

For example, my good friend Tamara Jett Mrs. Ham Lake has been an advocate in raising awareness about prostate cancer.

 I've seen her work with tireless dedication for years in her fight to support finding a cure for this disease.  A disease that her father has fought, and her own son is at risk of contracting.  Like Elizabeth, Tamara's advocacy efforts will continue long after the Mrs. Minnesota pageant.

The road to becoming Mrs. Minnesota International is a road of opportunity to be of service, as is the title itself.  I've seen Mrs. Minnesotas leave behind them a legacy of service and goodwill.  I've also seen the polar opposite.

Who the next Mrs. Minnesota International is we won't know until March.  In the meantime Elizabeth, Tamara and many other contestants are volunteering in their communities and beyond, to make a difference and to be of service to others.

The Ultimate Pajama Party

Natalie Hagemo and Sarah Clifford backstage at Twin Cities Live

Last January I spent an evening in my PJs shopping, dancing, drinking cocktails and consulting with a pet psychic.  I'll admit this wasn't my typical Saturday night. My girlfriends and I attended our first Ultimate Pajama Party.

This year there is another Ultimate Pajama Party on January 22nd and you can bet I already have my tickets.  Where else can you wear your PJs while getting a massage, shop for clothes, tell your problems to a gay man (Yes there is a booth for that) and toast signature cocktails with your besties?

For me this upcoming Ultimate Pajama Party is even more exciting because Gretchen Rossi from The Real Housewives of Orange County will be there!  I'm a huge fan of the Real Housewives franchise and look forward to meeting Gretchen.  Even though her boyfriend/Manager Slade will be there.  I haven't been a fan of his, but maybe he will change my mind.

Recently I was asked to model PJs on Twin Cities Live for a segment about the Ultimate Pajama Party.  You can see that segment here "Ultimate Pajama Party on Twin Cities Live"
It was a total blast and I got some great ideas for what kind of PJs I may want to wear this year.

Backstage at Twin Cities Live

This year I have even more friends going and I know it will be a blast.  You can get your tickets by visiting The Ultimate Pajama Party.