A dingo ate my baby...

My friend, Vanessa, is a trained mental health professional. I asked her last week for some advice on how to handle the whole teenage girl thing. A couple of tips for the mom here.

Her words shook me to the core and I assume they will you too.

She pondered for a moment and answered with almost reverence. With her hands held outward and a shrugged shoulder she said, "You walk around for about three to four years saying, 'What the blankety-blankety-blank?'"

Her exact words have been censored for, well, obvious reasons.

Well then, now we know.

If there are any Titus woman out there, by all means, chime in. If you don't know what a Titus woman is, by all means, Google.

I am blessed beyond compare with a beautiful family. Exhausted this weekend by the same beauties.

Vanessa did suggest that when one of the teens in my life is demonstrating poor behavior to name the alternate personality. I won't share her name for her kids but I will share ours:
Dingo.
As in Meryl Streep screaming, "A dingo ate my baby!" Because sometimes it feels that way.

At one point this weekend we had a pack of dingos in the car. John and I just sat on the bumper outside the car with them inside and laughed at the insanity of it all.

Dingo.

It says it all.