Virgin Carpet, Potty Training and Holiday Fun!

Despite the cloudy, drab, cooling weather, there is a sense of excitement in my household.  After 15 years, 3 kids and 3 dogs we are finally replacing our carpet and having the upstairs painted.

This carpet is so gross, that I have often wondered if it hasn't mutated into a living organism.  We have taken to refering to it as "Fred".

Knowing that we are just a few weeks from fresh, clean virgin carpet, I've been working hard to finish potty training the new puppy, TJ.  I've spent the last two years trying to get our other dog Loki, to stop pooping in the house and eating it.

Disturbingly, despite my best efforts, Loki has passed this behavior onto little TJ.  I've been at my wits end with the poop munching.  I thought that maybe a little shame and a time-out would get Loki to shape up.

Loki on his time-out

As crazy as it sounds, I think this worked.  Though far from 100%, Loki has taken to pooping outside and NOT eating it when he does it in the house.  I'm sure TJ will follow his lead, as he does with everything else.

I'm also super excited about the holiday season.  For me the holidays start on November 1st!  The only reason my house isn't filled with Chrismtas decorations yet, is because of the coming carpet installation and painting.  But, don't think I haven't already pulled the box out.  Plus, I've been listening to Christmas music daily.  I just love it!

Acceptance and Growing Up

I've been absent, neglectful and not present in regard to my blog for the month of October.  If my blog were a child, child protective services would have taken it into custody.  That, or my blog would have become a crazy, wild feral child that ate it's own hair and grunted for food.

My absence was, if not with good reason, with an understandable reason.  October 26th marked the one year anniversary of my mom's passing.  Thoughout the month, each time I sat down to write, I just could not do it.

My mom, dad and I in the backyard. We lived on Oahu

Today is October.... hold on where is my damn phone?  Here it is, one of the dogs was sitting on it.  Today is October 28th.  I could go on for pages trying to explain my last month and what it was like as this anniversary approached, but I won't.

The short story is it sucked ass at times.  In the last year I've shed more tears than a Kennedy, and ate more Lindt chocolates than Kirstie Alley.  I've actually eaten Lindt chocolates with Kirstie Alley, so I know what I'm talking about.  That's another story.

On the anniverary of my mom's passing I took a bottle of wine along with my "mini mom urn", to what was one of her favorite gardens.  It is a Japanese Garden at our local Arboretum.

"Mini mom" and my wine in the Japanese Garden

It was there that I had what was probably my most healing realization.  I realized that I was truly the adult in charge of my life.  My mom would have probably said that I've been in charge since I was 16.  In truth, I was able to go out and conquer the tight rope of life, be fabulolus, crazy, and at times productive, because I knew I had a safety net.  That safety net was always my mom.

Despite having three kids of my own, two of them grown, I never saw myself as the adult in charge.  I was resposible (for the most part) but I always felt I had a safety net.

The good thing is that by realizing that I was the adult in charge, I also finally accepted that my mom was gone.  Physically gone anyways.  I swear I can still hear her criticizing my driving and lack of cooking skills at times.  She finds ways of making her continued presence known.

Despite being 42 years old, (though I totally can pull off looking 32), for the first time in my life, I think I finally feel grown up.  Don't get me wrong, this doesn't mean I'm giving up drunken karaoke, or ghost hunting.  It just means I'm okay with navigating the tight rope of life without a safety net.

Why Condoms Remind Me of My Mother and How a Tampon Saved My Life

My mom didn't always understand me, but she always accepted me.  Thankfully we shared a healthy sense of humor.  If we hadn't she may have strangled me before I got to High School.

The five words I've heard most from her were "What is wrong with you!"  It was always a statement and not a questions, usually following me putting magnetic bullet holes all over her car, or throwing fake dog poop at her after convincing her it was from one of her dogs.

It's been 11 months since my mom died.  I've been thinking about her more often as the anniversary of her death approaches.  Today I was at Target for pens, though I ended up coming home with pens and these sexy footie PJs, which I know the Stud Muffin will just love.  They just scream "Take me now big boy!"

I was also in the pharmacy section looking for some acne wash for the teenage boy when I came upon the condom and lubrication area.

The condoms reminded me of my mom because I would often take her to Target and throw a bunch of multi colored condoms in her cart when she left it unattended.  She would only find them when checking out as she embarrassingly tried to explain to the cashier that they weren't hers.  I would be one lane over pretending not to know her and laughing my ass off as she yelled, "What's wrong with you!" across the aisle.

I was merely trying to show her that she needed to be more alert when shopping.  She had a bad habit of leaving her purse in her cart and walking off to look at something. So you see, my prank had a point.  In truth I was teaching her personal safety.  Maybe the next time she thought about walking off from her cart she would remember the condoms and not do so, thereby protecting herself from purse thieves and random people who might throw condoms in her cart.

After doing this to her on three different occasions, she stopped walking away from her purse in the cart.  The more I reflect on what it must have been like to have me for a daughter, the more I realize someone should have given her a medal.

The same goes for my significant other.  He rarely questions my behavior.  Once in awhile he comes across a mystery surrounding me that he just must get to the bottom of.  As was the case when he found this cup with a tampon and a piece of chewed gum in it, in my car.

Him: "I hate to ask, but why was there a tampon with blood on it, in a plastic up along with chewed gum in your car?"

Me: "That tampon saved my life the other day.  I was at the bus stop picking up the kid, when a wound on my arm started bleeding profusely!  I couldn't find a tissue to stop the massive hemorrhaging that was occurring, so I did what any fast thinking ER Doc would do.  I took a tampon out of my purse and used it to stop the bleeding.  I put it in the cup because it was the hygienic thing to do.  The gum was there because I was done chewing it and I don't throw things out of the car window because I'm civilized like that."

I didn't tell him that I was picking at a mole/wart thing on my arm, which he told me NOT to do, and that is what was bleeding.  Thankfully he didn't ask why I was bleeding, he was only concerned with why the tampon was there.

Him: (Sarcastically) "Well I suppose that makes sense now doesn't it?"

Me:  "Would you rather I bled to death at the bus stop?  Our son would have found me, bloodied and dead because I didn't think outside the box and use a tampon to save my own life!"

He knew what I was saying made sense, so he just walked away.  He knows he can't win these arguments with me as my logic is impeccable.  It's also why he usually doesn't want to ask in the first place.  He has learned to not put me in a position where I have to explain myself.  Sometimes it's just easier to let it go, and keep going.

Battling the Plague While My Dogs Talk to Me

For the last several days I've been doing battle.  I've been battling a plague that my son brought home from that germ pit known as "school".

For two days I was sick, then on the third day I felt fabulous, so I ran around town all day celebrating my last day of summer.  Unfortunatley, probably infecting the masses while I was at it.  Please accept my apologies if we were in close proximity on Thursday.  I truly felt fine that day.

Apparently this virus lulls you into a false sense of security, making you think you are well, so that you will go forth and spread it, ensuring its survival among the peoples of Earth.  The day after running around town, I woke up feeling worse than I did the first two days.

Needless to say, aside from sleeping, doing shots of Nyquil, and taking hundreds of photos of my dogs, jack shit got done this last week.

"Hold my bone, shit just got real!"

TJ and Loki are in my lap in this next photo.  It just occured while looking at this pic, that though I've been showering, I've been wearing these PJ pants, those socks and this sweatshirt for four days. Note to self: Change clothes today.

"Did you just fart?"

These dogs have some nerve! For the record I did not fart.  As a female I am incapable of such activities.  When the dogs started talking to me, I realized that it was time to back off on the Nyquil.

Another sign that you need to back off on the cold meds is when you check your phone in the morning, and realize that you emailed the following photo to multiple friends telling them that you found the perfect entertainment for their holiday party this year.

My friend James needs to take some responsibility for that one, being that he sent that photo to me first, which is how it got in my phone to begin with.  He is such a bad influence on me, which is of course why I love him.

Anyways, today is a new day.  At this moment I'm still feeling under the weather, but I'm going to shower, change my clothes, maybe even put a bra on and pants that zip and button.

My Last Day of Summer: Boats, Beer, Benefits, Disorders and Politicians

My last day of summer was quite eventful.  I attended a "Keep the Vibe Alive" boat cruise on Lake Minnetonka to support three wonderful candidates running for office in my town of Excelsior, Minnesota.

I'm pretty sure I made it out of there only offending one person. The stud muffin is right, I really do need to install a speed bump between my thoughts and my mouth.  I suffer from a disability known as "Foot in Mouth Disorder."  To date, there is no known cure.  It's a condition exacerbated by crowds and alcohol.

After telling the stud muffin what happened and how mortified I was, he said, "Repeat after me. It is NEVER appropriate to tell a man that his photo looks like he just got busted for prostitution!"  In my defense, when a man doesn't smile in a photo, it looks like a mugshot.

My Foot in Mouth Disorder otherwise known as "FMD", is just one of the many reasons why you will never see me running for office, which is why I want to support those who can and will do a good job in our town.  They have my support, even if I'm not invited back to anymore events.

I truly am trying to do better, it just doesn't come naturally to me.  Apparently when mouth filters were being handed out I was in line for a double dose of the "loves wine" gene.  I'm thinking of starting a 5K to benefit finding a cure for Foot in Mouth Disorder.

Here I am on the boat cruise with John from the Excelsior Brewing Company.  He is NOT the person I offended, as you can tell by this photo where he is smiling, and not looking like he just got busted for prostitution.

Coincidentally after the boat cruise, I was heading to meet some friends at the Excelsior Brewing Company, before heading to the Taste of the Lakes Gala benefiting the ICA Food Shelf.  It was a busy day!  After a wardrobe change I headed to my next gathering.

Mona, Trish, me, Jill, and Cheri who came all the way from Utah

Mona and her fabulous husband Mike, (who is not so fabulous at taking photos with my phone, as you can see here, though I do look better slightly blurry), love beer.  What better place to take Mona's sister and her husband who were visiting from Utah, than to our very own local brewery!  Not everyone from Utah is Mormon.  So, before you think we made the faux pas of taking two Mormons to a brewery, we did not.  Though from Utah, they are not Mormon, which made the brewery an acceptable venue.

Other than some face licking, which I had nothing to do with, we enjoyed a lovely visit together before Jill and I had to head to the Taste of the Lakes gala, just down the street.  My friend Jill is quite the foodie with a fun blog called Sassy Family.  Being a foodie she was the perfect person to attend a food tasting event with, plus she doesn't complain when I put extra helpings of free food in my purse for later.

One of my favorite comedians is Kristin Anderson, who is also a friend, and she was the co-host of the Taste of the Lakes Gala.  Kristin always makes me feel so normal.  When I get around to creating a 5K and Gala for Food in Mouth Disorder, I'm going to have Kristin emcee it.

Kristin and I at last night's Gala

It's always a pleasure to see Excelsior Mayor Nick Ruehl.  I let him know how he was stirring up my abandonment issues by retiring as Mayor.  I've known Nick for about five years, and despite my Foot in Mouth Disorder, he continues to be photographed with me in public, and remains a friend.  If we do find a cure for FMD, I may name it after Nick for being such a cool guy.

With Excelsior Mayor Nick Ruehl

My last day of summer was very busy.  When Jill dropped me off we congratulated ourselves on being such wild party animals, despite being in our 40s.  Of course it was 9:00pm, but hey it was a full day.

Apparently I Stink, Am Broke and Need Viagra

Like most of you I get a lot of spam, and not the good kind.  Not the yummy hormel meat in a can that I love so much.  You can say what you want about any other food, but talk crap about my beloved Spam, and I will cut you!

Email spam infects my computer like Herpes at a frat party.  I can't help but wonder how or why my email address ended up on some of these email list.  Some of them make sense, but others leave me with a WTF taste in my mouth, and not the good kind of WTF as in, "WTF is Christian Bale doing in my bedroom".  No this is a "WTF, why am I getting Christian Singles emails." Not the Christian I was hoping for.

My most recent batch of spam emails are these:

These basically say that I'm a stink ass in desperate need of a bath who is broke and lacking in health insurance.  But, Dr. Mrs. Veronica is coming to my resuce with 2.5 million dollars that she wants to transfer to me from Nigeria, which will give me the cash I need to buy tons of Viagra from the Canadian Pharmacy.

A few of these are not that far off the mark, but most of the time my spam email makes me question just who I am, or at least what I'm putting out there about myself.

What do your spam emails say about you?

Washington Politics, Future Husbands, and a Dab of Semen

This was my annual trip to Washington D.C. as a representative from Minnesota at the "Zero Summit to End Prostate Cancer."  I became involved with advocating for Prostate Cancer Research through my BFF Tamara Jett, whose father has fought Prostate Cancer.

Tamara and I traveled together to the summit, and visited with our State lawmakers to advocate for support in tackling a cancer that effects 1 in 6 men. You may remember my BFF Tamara from "Please Don't Speak Directly to the Title Holder" and our trip to Puerto Rico a few months ago.

Tamara and I seeing if the Obamas were at the Capitol and wanted to hit happy hour with us.

No such luck on having happy hour with the Obamas, so we went to a Congressional Reception instead.  We were happy to be reunited with our friend John who is a Physician's Assistant in St. Cloud Minnesota.  We met John at last year's summit.

Natalie, John and Tamara at the Congressional Reception

John is a great guy, and very knowledgable.  During the summit I realized that I may have over medicated myself and feared I would OD right then and there on the floor of the Summit while Congressman Barrow was giving a speech.

I didn't want to interrupt what was a fabulous talk, so I texted John who was two seats over to make sure he knew what medications I was taking, so he could share that info with the paramedics should I pass out.  John assured me that it was impossible to OD by taking Zyrtec, Midol and Advil together.  I think his phone died after that because he stopped responding to my text messages.

Aside from what we learned in the summit, I learned a few other things about Washington D.C.

1. You should never say "Let's photo bomb that press conference" in front of police holding giant guns while at the Capitol.  For those who don't know, "photo bomb" means to jump in the photo when you aren't supposed to be in it.

2. You can not take photos in the cafeteria of the Senate building, or you will meet the Secret Service, who will eye you intently until you leave.

3. D.C. is a great place to meet potential husbands for your daughters.

I met a very impressive young man at the Summit who is at the top of my list for potential husbands for one of my daughters.  He spends his summers in D.C. interning, when he isn't back in high school in Miami.

He is too young for my daughter now, but I gave him my card and said to stay in touch as in 10 years I thought they could make this work. He liked her photo, so I have high hopes.

They left our table and never returned shortly after we spoke, but I'm sure it's just because they wanted to go add "Marry Natalie's daughter" to their future calendars.

Tamara and I have traveled quite a few times together and we work like a well oiled machine.  Despite that a few things occured that made me question her commitment to our friendship.

First off, on our return home she refused to switch seats with me when I found a semen stain on my seat.  I always give her the window seat because she likes to lean on it and sleep during our flights.  I'm thoughtful like that.  She knows how grossed out I get by these kinds of things, but she remained unhelpful during my plight, beyond laying down a piece of paper for me to sit on, covering the semen stain.

It's obvious what this is!

On the next leg of our flight there was a seat between Tamara and I.  Thankfully one without body fluids that we could see.  I decided to kick my shoes off and spread out a little, so as to decompress from the last flight and trauma.

Tamara had the audacity to say my feet were "hummin", which apparently means the same as stinky.  After all I had been through, you would think she would be more understanding.

Tamara giving my feet the evil eye

I sat in semen on the other flight to ensure her comfort.  I thought it a bit rude that she would complain about an alleged slight odor. I gave her a chance to redeem herself by buying matching cheesehead hats while we laid over in Wisconsin, but she would have nothing to do with it.

Me trying to get Tamara into the spirit of Wisconsin

Washington D.C. is always a great place to visit.  The Prostate Cancer Summit was a success and we were even able to squeeze in some fun, shop for a husband for my daughters, and narrowly escape getting an STD from an airplane seat.

Puppies, Humping and Hoping for Strippers

Like most new mothers I'm short on sleep and showers.  Work isn't getting done.  My hair is in a permanent greasy ponytail and I'm running late to everything.  Totally not my normal.

The kids and I would like for you to meet the reason why I'm currently rocking the homeless chic look.  Say hello to our newest addition, TJ.

TJ during his first trip to the store for his own leash

TJ will never replace Dexter, but he is helping us to heal, and he is proving to be a fabulous addition to our family.  Here he is with his brother Loki, who joined our family almost two years ago.

TJ and Loki, keeping it real

We wanted to name him "Thor" being that his brother's name is Loki, but after spending time with him we realized it wasn't a good fit.  Based on our first day with him I wanted to name him "The happy humper", but the stud muffin said that was too long a name. We settled on TJ, which is short for Thor Junior.

The happy humper having his way with Loki

TJ is about 13 weeks old right now and is a Maltese, Long Haired Chihuahua mix.  He came from the same breeder as Loki, who is a Maltese.  

I'm looking forward to having TJ fully potty trained, and use to our home and routine.  I don't function well without sleep. Yesterday I tried to sign a credit card receipt with a tampon I pulled out of my purse.

Today I had a belated birthday lunch with my friend Tina.  I'm sure I sounded either drunk or like a stroke victim.  Breaking in a new puppy is not a sleep friendly activity.

When I walked into the restaurant to meet Tina, late of course, my birthday surprise caused me to jump out of my dazed, sleep deprived fog.  Tina showed me what she had gotten me for my birthday.  There stood a  tall, dark and handsome man, with arms that could lift a water buffalo.

How you doin?

I thought to myself , finally someone got me a stripper!  I've been asking for one for years.  Though  I was surprised that this was going to go down in the middle of a restaurant, but hey I was tired and needed the boost so who was I to question the situation.

Just when I was ready to start pulling dollar bills out of my purse, Tina pointed out the flower arrangement that the Greek God was holding.  Apparently the flowers, not the man, was my present.

Despite the misunderstanding we had a lovely lunch served to us by Mr. Hot Body, who turns out was our waiter, Nick.

I definitely need to start getting more sleep.

Weekend From Hell

After my hellish weekend, I'm ready for some good news of any kind to dissipate the stench of despair that lingers within the walls of my home.

The weekend started with saying goodbye to Dexter, our four legged family member of 13 years.  He passed peacefully in the lap of his one and only boy, my son.

The day after I spent 12 hours on a couch on my porch, covered in pastry crumbs and snot.  It was the day before my 42nd birthday, and the first birthday since my mother passed away.  Try as I might, I could not get off that couch or out of my PJ's.  Loosing Dexter and facing my birthday without my mom brought up so many emotions.

My friends stopped by, bringing me treats for my birthday in an effort to cheer me up.  Though I appreciated the gesture I reminded them that my temporary depression would pass, but diabetes was forever, so enough with the baked goods.

After a good night's sleep, thanks to unisom, which I'm careful not to abuse. My friend James and I have vowed to go to unisom rehab together if our unisom use ever gets out of hand.

When my birthday morning arrived I felt like a new person.  I had a fabulous tear free birthday filled with calls, texts and facebook birthday wishes.

This weekend was a very tough one.  Though, I was reminded that I have some pretty fabulous, caring people in my life.  From friends to family, I'm truly blessed and thankful that these people continue to put up with me.

My Email Exchange With Mitt Romney

With my vision still blury from a not so great night's sleep, I powered up my iPhone and checked my email as I do each morning.

There before me today was an email from Mitt Romney.  Now, I don't recall giving Mitt my email address.  I'm pretty sure the stud muffin had something to do with Mitt getting my email address.  My Republican husband fears for my vote in the way my Baptist Grandma fears for my eternal soul.

I'm not a political person.  While the Republican National Convention has been on TV, I've been catching up on episodes of The Real Housewives of New York and also New Jersey.

My significant other went so far as to offer me a back rub if I watched the RNC with him.  I let him know that I really needed to finish my Real Housewives show as the Countess very possibly just cheated on her French boyfriend with a Johnny Depp look alike.

Though I appreciate Mitt reaching out via email letting me know he was going to be taking the podium last night at the RNC, I'm not so thrilled that he tried to hit me up for $20.12.  I'm not giving him $20.12, but I did make him an offer he may not be able to refuse.

Here is my email back to him:

Mitt,

I missed your speech as I was catching up on episodes of the Real Housewives of New York.  I'm leaning towards voting for you, in large part because I fear my significant other may leave me if I vote for Obama.  Though, I'm not going to send you $20.12.  

What I will do is offer you a spot on my blog Mommalicious In Suburbia, in my sponsored ad space. For only $45.00 a month you can have a 125x125 ad.  Have your people email me and we can get that set up.  

Natalie Hagemo

Mommalicious In Suburbia

www.mommaliciousinsuburbia.com

I'll let you know what I hear back.  To be fair I'm offering the same deal to Obama's people.

Goodbye Dog Days of Summer

Summer is quickly winding down and I'm ready to be done with it. I've had my fill of hot days and beach time.  Summer was my whore and I'm done with her.

In May I spent time back home on the beaches of Hawaii scattering my mother's ashes.  Most recently I spent 8 days in Puerto Rico being "The Assistant to the Title Holder", cheering on my friend Tamara Jett at the Ms. World International Pageant.

In between traveling I've spent the summer doing intense research to find the "Top 3 Happy Hour Spots in Excelsior."

I live in Minnesota because I don't like to experience any one season for too long.  Living in a place that has every season to its extreme, a few months at a time, works well for me.

Though I'm ready to embrace my fall wardrobe and the delightful smell of fireplaces lingering in the air, I'm going to miss outdoor happy hours.

I couldn't let summer slip away without hosting a Doggie Happy Hour for a few friends and our four legged babies, with my darling Maltese Loki.  Despite the fact that I'm off the sauce due to my fitness training adventure with Jason Young of Youngquest Fitness, I still had a good time.  Sipping sparkling water instead of wine is not as fun at happy hour, but I still managed to squeeze out a good time.

Here is our Doggie Happy Hour group at Jake O'Connor's in Excelsior.

Loki likes to hangout with his buddy Teddy, even though Teddy can be a bit of a crab-ass.  They share a love of doggie martinis.

Loki and his Pom buddy Teddy

How is your summer winding down?

Coming Out About The Minnesota State Fair

I'm sure your State has a State Fair.  Here in Minnesota it's known as The Great Minnesota Get Together. Ours is one of the largest State Fairs in the country.  I'm well aware that my views on the fair may go over like a fart in church, but I can't take it anymore.

Despite my 19 years in Minnesota, I've only been to the State Fair twice.  I'm just not a fan.  Don't get me wrong, the Minnesota State Fair has much to offer if you are into that kind of thing.  It's just not my thing.  The only thing that truly interest me is the Spam booth.  My fair loving friend Cami texted me this photo while she was there.  She knows that like a good Hawaiian, I love my Spam.

The Spam booth at the fair

The State Fair tends to be crowded, hot and full of food that will make me feel sick, except for the Spam.  The food is delcious, but I know it will leave me feeling like Lindsey Lohan the morning after a binger.

My friend James says "It's full of dirty people."  For the record it's not full of dirty people.  More accurately only about 1/4 of the people there are truly dirty, and when he says dirty he doesn't mean in a sexual way, but actually having dirt on themselves.  Though now that I think about it, 1/4 of the people at the fair are probably sexual deviants, so both definitions of dirty would apply.

Some of my best friends are fair fanatics!  They spend the 12 or so days that the fair is happening, trying to peer pressure me into going.  They say things like "You haven't tried it with me.  You just need the right person to show you how it's done." All of them treating me like I'm a lesbian who only needs the right man to show her what she's missing.

The other day I found myself starting to entertain the idea that maybe my fanatic fair friends are right, and I should go to the fair this year.  Luckily James took me to lunch to celebrate my coming birthday, and talked me off the ledge.

We sat in a not crowded, air conditioned Kona Grill, enjoying sea bass and filet mignon, while James reminded me that a State Fair goer just isn't who I am.

Delicious birthday lunch

I'm not saying I'll never experiment and go to the fair.  I'm saying that I'm coming out with my feelings about it.  I don't like the Minnesota State Fair.  It just doesn't float my boat.

Friends Don't Let Friends Smudge Alone

Because of my eccentric and colorful background, my response to the sufferings of my friends often differs from others.

When someone dies most people bring over food.  Here in Minnesota the food choice is usually some type of hot dish with tater tots or cookie bars of some sort.  I'm not a fan of cooking, but I will show up with a gift card to a fabulous restaurant.  I'll even take the extra step and make sure they provide takeout.

Recently my friend Cami experienced a string of bad luck and odd goings on in her home.  You might remember Cami as my fellow Real Housewife Wanna Be.

Realizing that Cami was in need I did what had to be done.  I grabbed my smudge stick and went to Cami's to smudge her house.    Smudging is a smoke cleansing ritual that the Native Americans do to cleanse a person, place or space.  It's like doing a spiritual housecleaning.

Now you may be wondering what qualifies me to do such a thing.  Well first off, I'm part Native American so it's in my DNA.  Secondly, I watched a youtube video on it.

Here I am cleansing Cami's house of negative energy

We were sure to smudge each room, and each nook and cranny.  Cami participated in the ritual.

Cami getting her smudge on

It wasn't lost on us that the smudge stick resembles a smoking penis, if a penis were to spew smoke.

As a closing to the ritual we went to happy hour.  The youtube video didn't include having wine at the end, but I thought it was an effective way to end a ritual chasing out negative energy.

Right away Cami's luck started to turn around as evidenced by a phone call she got while we were at happy hour.  So far it looks like the ritual worked.  Her house smells a bit like an Asian opium den because of the herbs in the smudge, but things are looking up.

Top 3 Tips For Parenting Teens

In some parts of the country kids have already returned to school.  Here in Minnesota we have just under two weeks to go until the mother's in this State are able to collectively exhale a sigh of relief.

For now, I'm down to one almost 14 year old boy living at home.  I say for now because I'm sure my two older girls will eventually boomarang home after college.

Many moms have kids going into High School for the first time.  I'm asked all the time for my tips on how to handle teen dating, discipline and more.  Okay, maybe I'm not asked so much as I push my parenting tips off on others.  Regardless, here you are and you are welcome.

My Top 3 Tips on Parenting Teens

1. Dating: If you would do it with your father, you can do it with your boyfriend.  This is what I told my daughter's when we discussed boundaries when dating as teens in high school.  They might sit close to dad, hold his hand and even kiss him on the cheek.  Anything they are willing to do with dad they can do with their boyfriend.

The great thing about sharing this tip with your teens and making it a rule, is that each time a boy makes a move on your teenage daughter, she will immediately think of her father.  My daughters have told me it is a total buzz kill as far as romance goes, therefore this works.  I'm not saying they won't possibly need therapy later.

2. Discipline: Contact your cell phone service provider and set it up so that you can shut off your teen's phone instantly.  Once kids stop believing in Santa there isn't much you can hold over them.  Whipping out your phone and threatening to call Santa to share that they are refusing to clean their room doesn't work anymore.  

What does work is shutting down their cell phone.  Most service providers have a way of doing this quite easily.  It takes a simple phone call to shut it off and a phone call to turn it back on, once your teen becomes compliant.  This handles the issue of sometimes not being able to physically take the cell phone from them.

3. Wardrobe: Wear your daughter's inappropriate clothes to her school.  Teenage girls often like to dress like hoochies.  The solution to this is simple.  The next time your daughter puts on a low cut top that screams "Cheap and desperate", threaten to wear it to pick her up from school.  Trust me when I say you only have to follow through on this one time before she knows you are serious.

Yes, it can be a little uncomfortable as a parent to show up looking like a hooker at your teen's school, but as parents we have to sacrafice for the well-being of our kids.

Any of these tips for teenage girl's will work with teenage boys as well.

Kids, Cookies, and the TSA

After 22 years of parenting I've learned that a dash of dysfunction is healthy.  It serves to develop a sense of humor in kids and adults.  It takes talent to maintain the correct balance of dysfunction.  Enough to be able to appreciate the humor in our pitfalls, but not enough to require us to be checked into a facility.

My kids have not experienced true dysfunction in terms of abuse, addiction or severe mental illness.  The worst they can complain about is that I embarrass them and I tend to be neurotic.  They have learned to live with this, and accept me for who I am, as I have worked to accept them for who they are.

Because I strive to live a perfectly imperfect life, I can hardly expect my kids to get it right all the time, or to do or experience things as I would.

I've done quite a bit of traveling and consider myself to be a savvy travler. I'm the person you want to get behind going through airport security, which I usually breeze through because I know what I'm doing.

My oldest daughter Shelby just left for a study abroad program in Spain.  Despite the fact that she has traveled quite a bit, she continues to have issues at airport security.  Here is a text I received from her after I dropped her off at the airport.

Several years ago Shelby was patted down after TSA agents found handcuffs in her carry on bag.  I don't recall why she needed handcuffs when flying from Minneapolis to Sacramento, but apparently at 13 she did.

My middle child is almost 20, in college, and has been out of the house for about a year.  She is only an hour and a half drive away and comes home every few weeks to see her siblings, and grocery shop in my kitchen.  Here is a text I received from her letting me know she was coming home.  She is addicted to apps that make her look portly or old.

My son Jared is almost 14.  He went on a tour of museums in Chicago.  I had visions of Jared and I discussing our favorite artists over hot chocolate upon his return.  Alas, he did not transform into an art appreciating son.  Instead he spent most of the trip turning sculptures into hat models, using his own hat, and texting me the photos.

At the end of the day our kids are like cookies.  As parents we pick and mix the ingredients, but we can't guarantee how they will look or taste out of the oven.

How do your kids surprise you?

Just Call Me Mother Teresa

If you know me, you know I am reluctant to share the intimate details of the lives of those I love.  If you know me well, you know that I just lied.

One of the reasons I started blogging years ago was to share with the world the gems of wisdom and hilarity that came out of my mother's mouth.  Things like when she thought her deaf chihuahua could read lips, or the time she was convinced she got pneumonia from being exposed to cat pee.

A phrase I often heard from my mom was "If you put that on your blog I'm going to kill you."  Being the good daughter that I am, I never let that stop me from writing about her.  I inherited my sense of humor from my mom.  She always eventualy got a chuckle out of what I wrote about her, even if it mortified her in the moment.

That being said, my family and friends know that what happens with them in real life, may very well end up on my blog.  This doesn't stop them from inviting me along on things.

Recently I've become quite the caretaker, some might even say "miracle healer."  Okay, no one has called me a miracle healer, but  I make a good driver to and from, if you are having a medical procedure.  I'll gather up your care instructions, hold your hand, and of course take photos, which I'll then post on facebook, twitter and my blog.

Here is my Gay BFF James when I took him for his Lasik procedure. Note the comforting stuffed puppy he is holding.

James going under the laser

I jumped at the chance to support my sister Lana when she had to get four wisdom teeth pulled out.  Lana hates pain more than most of us and was very nervous about the procedure.  Here she is before.

Lana before going under

Here is Lana fresh out of her oral surgery.

Lana waking up

I took my photos before I saw this sign.

If you need someone to chaparone you to a medical procedure, I'm your gal.  I'm in the market for attending a colonoscopy, so keep that in mind.  Just give me enough lead time to charge my camera.

He's Sexy and He Knows It!

If you have followed my blog for awhile, or follow me on facebook, twitter, or instagram, you know that I'm over the moon crazy about my little Maltese named Loki.

Loki in his car seat after a spa day

 For years I've made fun of people who treated their little dogs like children.  I have to admit, I'm drinking the doggie kool-aid.  During a recent camping trip I was in my tent talking to Loki "How's my baby, are you cold?" I then heard a woman in a nearby tent say in a hushed voice, "I think she is talking to her dog."

My Loki has his own car seat.  He loves to ride shotgun, but my 13 year old won't shut up about being made to sit in the backseat when Loki is in the car, so now Loki sits mostly in the back.

Loki has been featured in Lake Minnetonka Magazine as being "The Toast of Lake Minnetonka".  Okay, they were quoting me saying that about him, but it's still in print and therefore true.

Loki gets blueberry facials and enjoys spa days with his stylist and groomer Susie Crary. He loves playing fetch and peek-a-boo.

Playing peek-a-boo

So yes, I've become one of those crazy dog loving people.  When I travel I often share readily available pics of my Loki.  When asked about my children I have to search my phone for a pic of the kids.

Don't get me wrong, I love the heck out of my kids and will not hesitate to cut you should you hurt one of them.  The thing is, they are 22, 20 and 13. The 13 year old is taller than me and won't let me cuddle him.  My children have betrayed me by growing up.

Loki will never grow up.  He will always look like a little baby puppy, letting me sing to him, cuddle him and baby him.  Friends have often said "Are you sure you don't want another child?"  Hell no! Loki is the perfect baby for me because I can still lock him in the bathroom without getting the authorities involved.