‘Til Death Do Us Part, Which May Be Sooner Than You Think

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Yesterday was my 16th wedding anniversary.  Yesterday, I wanted to strangle my husband. Ok, hold on, don’t send for “the Po Po” just yet (and for those of you who don’t speak 10 year old – “the Police”). Contrary to what you might be thinking, it is not because he had not gotten me a gift (which he hadn’t) or card (again, nope) but because he promised a favor.

You see, my husband is one of those good guys.  Therefore when our elderly neighbor asked my husband to drive her 2 hours to the airport to meet and pick up her adult son and then drive them the 2 hours back, he, of course, agreed.  However, at the moment of acquiescing, he did not realize two things.  One, the day in question was our anniversary and two, he would be called to one of those can’t-miss-on-penalty-of-death type meetings.

So, I guess you are thinking I was ready to commit husband strangulation because he forgot our anniversary.  But, the truth is, I forgot too.  No, what got my undies all in a bundle was the fact that now, in light of the meeting, his saintly gesture to our neighbor now fell to me to execute and well, I am just not that saintly.  Nonetheless, execute I did!

Really, I am not as big a twirp as I sound.  At the time agreed, I met my neighbor with a smile, assured her it was no big deal when she thanked me on the outset of our trip and declared me over-the-top neighborly (ha, if she only knew).

At first, we played telephone on the long drive to the airport,

“Did you have dinner?”

“Who did you say was thinner?”

“No, I asked, DID YOU HAVE DINNER?”

“Oh, I am not much of a singer.”

Then, we opted for silence.

We arrived right on schedule… 40 min before the flight arrived.

We parked and waited at the gate for arrival.

With my neighbors son in tow, we slowly walked to baggage claim, waited,  and then slowly back to the parked car.  I paused for them at the crosswalk while a pair of turtles hurried past (ok, she has an excuse – at 90 you are allowed to walk any speed you want and I guess he was just tired).

On the 2 hour eternity ride home, we played more telephone. But after my best sorority-girl conversation starters fell like a drunk man off a roof, we rode in awkward silence.  That is until out of nowhere, like we were about to be in a 10 car pile up, my elderly neighbor’s son shouted “THERE IT IS” pointing out our approaching exit (like I didn’t know that since I had been counting the mile markers for about the last 35 miles).

Finally, we arrived back.  I wished them a good visit and went home.

When I arrived at my house, I was ready to tell my husband all about my eventful “good deed” – the pain, the suffering, the agonizing silence, the rousing games of telephone. But, no one was home.  My husband still at his meeting, kids still at their assigned places.  Then, on the table, I saw this:

What is it they say, no good deed goes unpunished?  That may be true, but  it wasn’t all bad. Flowers, presents, and a happy elderly neighbor… yeah, I suppose I came out alright, possibly even ahead.

Happy 4th of July!

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Happy Fourth of July.  May you find your Sweet Spot today.

4 Things to Know About Raising Country Kids

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Yes, I seem to be running a theme of Country Living lately (Top 10 Clues You Are Not Cut Out For Country Life).  No rhyme or reason, just where my brain is roaming around on these hot summer days leading up to Fourth of July!

Today, my most recent article about raising country kids is running over at ParentSociety.com.

I grew up in the suburbs, lived in the city, and then moved to the country when my kids came along. I did not expect there to be any difference when it came to raising my kids in the country as opposed to the city/suburbs. Kids are kids, how different could it be? But I am here to tell you I was naive as a turkey on Thanksgiving…

Yes, I was naive – but my kids have educated me well.  I mean really, who needs shoes or a license to drive anyway?  Have I said to much?  Alright, already, just go read this quick little piece and find out the rest!  Whether you are planning on ever being a Country Parent or not, you just might be glad you did! Go Here!

4 Things to Know About Raising Country Kids

Today’s Best Moment: Friday, 6/29

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Today, actually a few minutes ago, I asked my son to climb one of his favorite trees so I could take a picture for an upcoming blog post.  He quickly scaled his tree like no monkey ever could.  I was suddenly reminded of a moment when he was around 6 years old. My Mom, Grandma,  was visiting.  Grandma went outside to see what he was doing and found him as high up in his tree as was possible to get.

Grandma called up to him:

 “You are so high, could you come down, I am afraid for you”

To which my son, without missing a beat, replied:

“Grandma, you will just have to conquer your fears.”

My Mom and I still laugh about it.

I hope his tree lives forever.

Top 10 Clues You Are Not Cut Out for Country Life

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So, you think you can cut it in the country?  Yeah, well that is what I thought, too.  However, last week after dissolving in tears upon committing vehicular skunk-slaughter, it became glaringly clear you can “Take the girl out of the city, but…”.  (I mean really, the poor creature was just trying to, shall we say, get to the other side).

Therefore, just in case you may have the bright idea to a switch to rural life anytime in the future, allow me to bestow upon you the benefit of first-hand experience!

Top 10 Clues you are not cut out for Country Life.

10.  You cry over road kill.  Including the skunk that assured your car would never smell the same again.

9. You shudder when instructed to park your car on the grass – even though it is already filled with cars, trucks and ATVs.

8.  You think wearing 4 inch wedges to a hayride is a feasible alternative to high heeled pumps. But, at least you learn the purpose for the warning “beware the steaming rocks”.

7.  You look at your kid like he is Jack the Ripper when requested to gut and cook the fish he caught.

6.  You feel compelled to declare the yard an animal sanctuary…from your kids.

5.  Your car and a deer leaping out of the woods collide – you are dismayed over the deer’s injuries but completely unconcerned by the fact your car is now totaled.

4.  You don’t like red meat. But, you try to keep this one under wraps on the off chance there really is some truth to the “ride out of town on a rail” rumor. (oh, and on a side note: You never mention that “vegetarian” word)

3.  You have a maniacal fear of mini-blood-sucking-demons-from-hell,  also known as  Tics.

2.  You are not a fan of dirt/dust/mud/gravel/snow/ice – they interfere with your shoe choices.

and last but not least…

1.  You are at a loss as to how to respond to the question “Do you want ½ a cow?” because you are busy picturing which half and how a cow stands up with only two legs.

If you still decide to give the country a go, I wish you luck and may you never feel the sting (or smell the smell) of skunk road kill.

4 Reasons Parents Should Get A Life

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Yes, folks, it is that time again!  The time of the week when I drop a few words over at my home away from home – aka: ParentSociety.com.  Today I am talking about why all parents – yes, myself included – should Get a Life!

It starts out something like this:

Becoming a first-time mom late in life means two things:  First, my grandkids will have a super cool walker to climb on and second, I had an activity-filled life before my kids ever came along. For me, this included many aspects of theater and performing. However, I always knew when I became parent, I wanted to give my kids full and undivided attention. So when the kiddos came along, I put those extracurricular activities on hold.

But, then things changed and no, I did not “run off to join a geriatric production of “CATS”…or worse.  As usual, you will just have to go HERE to get the rest of the story and of course the 4 “pearls of wisdom” as to why as parents, we should all Get a Life!

4 Reasons All Parents Should Get a Life!

Today’s Best Moment: Wednesday, 6/20

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I am having trouble keeping up with work and writing this summer. Could it be that I am doing too much of this…? One can only ponder.

Today’s Best Moment: Tuesday, 6/12

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Today’s Best Moment is a different one – for me here at Sweet Spot anyway.  Today’s moment is about being thankful.  Thankful  I only had to read about the information in my recent article on ParentSociety.com and not live it first hand.  Thankful my kids are healthy, happy and strong.  Thankful I can talk to my kids about the difficult choices and dangers they will face out  in the world.

I know I usually write what I like to think are informative, yet humor-infused articles. However, I wanted to deviate from my normal light-hearted approach to write something regarding a new designer drug called bath salts. Why? Because up until a few days ago, I had never even heard of this horrific new synthetic drug and as a parent, that scared the puffin’ stuff out of me…

I reasoned that maybe I was not the only parent ignorant until recently of this scary new creation.  If you want to know more go here to read.

“Am I The Only Parent Who Never Heard of Bath Salts?

Teen Talk: Episode #3

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Comic by K

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you a Public Service Message from Teen Talk.  I assure you, everything you are about to hear is real and unedited.  If you decide to try this at home, please proceed with extreme caution and stay out of your neighbors yard.

One day at the gas station mini-mart.

Teen: “Mom, I’m thirsty.  Can I get a soda?”

Mom:  “You don’t need soda, drink some water.”

Teen:  “I don’t like water, it tastes weird.”

Mom:  “You have to drink water.  Water is life!”

Teen:  “I do drink water.  I drank a ton of water yesterday.”

Mom:  “Oh, good.”

Teen:  “Then, I peed it all out onto a pine tree.”

Mom:  “What?”

Teen:  “I’m Green, I recycle.”

The End

Teen Talk:  Episode #1

Teen Talk: Episode #2

Teen Talk: Episode #4

Teen Talk: Episode #5

For more views by Teen Go Here: Teen Talk

Take Us to Warp Speed, Scotty

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I love baseball. However, baseball can be a difficult sport to watch your kids play.  Why?  Because, duh, it is so stinking slow!  As you sit in the stands, it can be like slowly ripping-off-your-fingernails type torture anticipating how your kid will hit, field, pitch, catch, throw etc.  When games are fast paced, such as soccer or basketball, my ability to follow and efficiently understand what is going on takes an extended vacation. Thus, the torture-fest factor is severely reduced. In fact, I am thoroughly convinced if the speed of a kid’s baseball game could be increased oh, say tenfold, all my problems would be solved (Take us to warp speed, Scotty!).

Every season when I can no longer take the gut wrenching apprehension, I call the one person I can count on to tell me I am being ridiculous, my Dad.  I mean really, who better to tell you how stupid you are being and give advice than Dad – it’s in the job description, right there along with “remind kids to get their car oil changed”.

After many a baseball season, my Dad is ready when my yearly call arrives.  His effective responses usually go something like this:  “It’s just a game”, “calm down”, “you worry too much”, “Baseball is full of ups and downs”, “Baseball is slow” (got that one figured out) “Keep saying to yourself ‘Relax and Enjoy’”.

“Got it, Ok Dad, I’ll try”, I answer.

Relax and Enjoy.

I repeated this phrase as I drove to my son’s baseball game that very night.

Relax and Enjoy.

At the game, in the stands, I chanted it repetitively (to myself, of course, so no one near me would think I had finally gone all bag lady or something).

Relax and Enjoy.

The game was a close.

Relax and Enjoy.

My son’s team began to slip behind.

Relax and Enjoy.

My son struggled at bat.

Relax and Enjoy.

Then, my new found meditative repose was challenged when a particularly, shall we say “prolific”, opposing team Dad began to bellow, in as loud a voice as you can possibly imagine (think Quidditch announcer in Harry Potter),

“PARTY AT HOME PLATE BOYS, PARTY AT HOME PLATE”

Over and over and yep, over again.

“PARTY AT HOME PLATE BOYS, PARTY AT HOME PLATE!!”

In fairness, parents of both teams were cringing and pretending he was some stranger who just happened to stop by on his way to catch the Crazy Train.

“PARTY AT HOME PLATE BOYS, PARTY AT HOME PLATE!!”

My stress level began to rise. I could just feel the belly fat taking hold (for clarification on that, Go here). My mind began to race…

Could anyone possibly have a straight jacket in their car, handy for just such a situation?

“PARTY AT HOME PLATE BOYS, PARTY AT HOME PLATE!!”

Muzzle?

PARTY AT HOME PLATE BOYS, PARTY AT HOME PLATE!!”

Tranquilizer gun? (Honestly, where I live I might have had luck with this one!)

PARTY AT HOME PLATE BOYS, PARTY AT HOME PLATE!!”

Moms unite – I think we can take him!

“PARTY AT HOME PLATE BOYS, PARTY AT HOME PLATE!!”

And then in a shining moment, my son, like a little lightning-fast,  blond headed Yadier Molina, tagged out a runner trying to “join the party”, making the final out of the inning.

I turned to fellow team parents next to me.

“Party Cancelled”, I mumbled.

They laughed, and I laughed.  In fact, it still makes me laugh thinking about it.

My son’s team didn’t win the game. But it was ok.

And even though I am not giving up hope on the whole Warp Speed idea (where is Scotty when you need him?), I think I will survive if I can just remember to – Relax and Enjoy, and of course, Laugh.

Today’s Best Moment: Friday, 6/1

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Happy Friday!

May your weekend be filled with fun, laughs and sunshine.  And, may you endeavor to answer the age old question:

“How much sand really can fit in a T-shirt?”

My Kids Are Stressing Me Out!

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I know, I know, we all have stress.  However, in my most recent article over at ParentSociety.com today entitled “My Kids Are Stressing Me Out!”, I share a discovery made about stress you really don’t want to miss.

Just to be nice (because, that is just the way I am) here is how the tale begins!

I was browsing through a magazine recently when I came across this statement:

“Too much stress can slow your metabolism, causing you to gain weight in your midsection.”

Allow me to translate: “Stress gives you belly fat.”

Honestly, “them’s fightin’ words”…

Now, you will have to Go HERE to find out what I plan to do about it!

Thank you to all the friends & family who were coerced into being  helped out by being a  part of my survey in the writing of this article!

Come Home Proud

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Tomorrow’s Veterans.

Recently, I was given the privilege of showing my appreciation to the Men and Women serving our country overseas.  This honor was made possible by my young cousin Megan as she compiled letters of thanks to send to her fiance marine, Jared, and his Brothers in Arms – spending the holidays far from home on a final tour in Afghanistan.

To recognize all on this day, Veterans of the past, present and future, I wanted to share my letter.

Dear Jared and Brothers,

My day today was typical, uneventful – routine even.

I woke up, took a shower, made breakfast, forgot to make lunches, sent my boys off to school, went to work, drove to the store, left my grocery bags in the car, watched my son ride his bike around the block, went to the post office and bank, helped with homework, took out trash, wished husband was taking out trash, drove kids to soccer practice, waited, talked on the phone, cooked dinner, watched the Cardinals get beat by the Rangers…again, read my book, prepared for the next day…

But, here’s the thing.  Today was also the most extraordinary and amazing day ever. Today, I got to do all those things feeling safe, protected and free.  Today, I got to enjoy all those mundane, wonderful things because;

There is nothing typical about your dedication to my protection.

There is nothing uneventful about the personal risk you take to secure my safety.

There is nothing routine about the distance you have to spend away from your loved ones so that I can watch my son freely ride his bike around the block.

Not even by a long shot.

So in these closing moments of my typical, uneventful – routine even day, let me say thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for every moment of your phenomenal day that enables me to rejoice in my typical day.  It means more to me than you can ever know.

Come home soon.

Come home safe.

Come home proud.

Love,

Paula

This is a post from last Veterans Day.  I wanted to re-post it in honor of Memorial Day 2012 with the update:

 He came home…

Word-Up: Show Me Your Weenus

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I knew it!  I feared the day would come – the moment when I would finally be presented with undeniable proof I was failing as a parent.  I wanted to deny it, but the evidence was right there staring me in the face.  Clearly, I was raising a depraved sociopath.

You know the age old story, in the aftermath of a sociopath’s identification, when the neighbors wax poetic for the press?  Statements of disbelief such as:  “But, they were such a nice family”…  “Never heard a peep out of them”…”mostly kept to themselves”…”They had a lot of garden gnomes.”

Right, well, I could just see the entire future unfolding. How had it come to this?

You see, last weekend as we drove endlessly in the car from one activity to another, the irrefutable proof of my impending catastrophe occurred. I don’t know, maybe my kids were bored.  And what is it ‘they’ say?  Boredom is the devil’s playground?  Boredom is the Mother of Invention?  Either way, from the depths of the backseat, my son called out,

“Mom, I scraped my weenus, could you put a band aide on it?”

What?!

Before I could even process his statement, the situation deteriorated further. Apparently, my parental fiasco was farther reaching than just one dissolute sociopath as both boys continued in a flourish of depravity.

“Mom, my weenus is exposed”.

“I need some sunscreen for my weenus”.

“Hey, get your weenus out of my face”.

“Look, my weenus is all wrinkled”.

“I am going to touch you with my weenus”.

“I have the weirdest weenus, want to see?”.

The situation seemed dire at best.

But then, just as I was getting ready to take preventative action (you can google for a psychotherapist, right?), I was saved.  In the nick of time, I was informed by my little backseat degenerates their particular word “weenus” came with its own specific definition. However, just to be sure (and to have proof for possible future penal encounters – ha, get it?), I googled it myself- lo and behold:

According to Urban Dictionary:Weenus is the flap of skin on your elbow”.

Sigh of relief.  Apparently I am not raising a couple of depraved sociopaths, just a couple of depraved smart alecks.

But that I can live with, proudly.

For more word abuse, check out these earlier posts!

Word-Up:  Poop

Word-Up: Opus Anyone?

Word-Up: Get a Yob!

Are You One of “Those” Parents?

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Yes, it is that time of the week, again.  Time to stroll on over to ParentSociety.com and check out my latest article “I Just Don’t Need My Kids to be Phenomenal” (if you would be so kind).  You might say it is a continuation, or short conclusion to my last venture “6 Kinds of Sports Parent: Which are you?”.  Ok, ok, here is the teaser…

Why must our kids be phenomenal?

Don’t get me wrong: My kids are amazing! From the moment they made their first spit bubble, everything they did, said, accomplished, or pooped out was remarkable … to me. And this, in my opinion, is exactly as it should be.

But sometimes…

Go here to read the rest.  Did I mention it is short? I just had to get in the last word.  That is so like me…

Teen Talk, Episode #2

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Comic by K

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you another installment of Teen Talk.  Everything you are about to hear is real and unedited. Please, do not try this at home.

One day, Teen lost a tooth.

Teen:  “Mom, should I put the tooth under my pillow or will the “Tooth Fairy” (finger quotes) just give me the dollar?”

Mom:  “What? No, put it under your pillow.  The Tooth Fairy only operates one way around here.”

The next day.

Teen:  “Mom!  The “Tooth Fairy” (again with the finger quotes) forgot me.  I was THOROUGHLY NEGLECTED!”

(Back story:  This is now the second time the Tooth Fairy has been caught sleeping – literally – on the job).

Mom:  “Man, that Tooth Fairy is the biggest slacker EVER!  I will have a serious talk with her.  Could you give her one more chance?”

Teen:  “Ok”

The next morning.

Mom: “Soooo, did the Tooth Fairy make good, come through, leave you a dollar?”

Teen:  “Yeah. (pause) But I expected interest.”

The end

For more views by Teen Go Here: Teen Talk

What Kind of Sports Parent Are You?

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Do you have kids in sports.  Do you know parents who have kids in sports?  Do you plan to someday have kids in sports? Or, do you just like to laugh at parents who have kids in sports?

Well then, you should read my latest article on ParentSociety.com,  called “6 Kinds of Sports Parents. Which are you?
and take my Sports Parent Quiz.

Now, some of you may be familiar with the post I wrote  at the start of my kids’ baseball season “Bulldogs Don’t Wear Lipstick” where I vowed to be a good better Sport Mom. But recently, I have had the desire to really examine the sports parent phenomenon – what makes a good sports parent, and what makes a nightmare one.

The article starts with the study that initially intrigued me:

I read a study recently where hundreds of college athletes, over 30 years time, were polled with the question: “What is your worst memory from playing youth and high school sports?”

The overwhelming answer was: “The ride home from the games with my parents.”

Those same college athletes were also asked what gave them joy and made them feel good during or after a game. The most common answer was their parents saying…

Ha – cliffhanger!  You will  have to go  HERE to find out the answer and hopefully, take my quiz.

Are you scared?  Don’t worry.  It will be fun.  I have always found it is good to laugh at yourself…this way, the people laughing at you have company.

Oh, and be sure to come back here and tell me how you scored! Pretty please with sugar,  chocolate and peanut butter on top?

Go Ahead, Make My Day

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The letter.  Do you remember that dinosaur?  No, no, no, it is not something you type out onto an email, or text from your phone or even message on Facebook.  It is not the same as commenting, liking, tweeting, repining, stumbling, joining or even following (did I miss any?).  Need a memory jog…or maybe, marathon?

The letter is that archaic form of communication where you actually pick up a pen (if you can find one that works), select a stationary or card (my favorite often had bunnies or rainbows), write by hand sentiments and thoughts (which requires you have some), write the address (that street-city-state-zip thingy), stamp it (the little.44 sticker) and send by (gasp) the US Post – heretofore to be referred to as “snail-mail”.  Coming back to you now?

Well, recently I have been thinking about letters a lot.  I have been remembering the stationary kits I had as a kid, complete with matching paper, envelopes and stickers.  I have been reminiscing over the times when I lived away from home and became closer to friends and family through this antiquated form of communication. I have been cherishing all the letter responses I stored away and saved. I have been laughing hysterically over letters written by my teen self to my Grandmother that were returned to me upon her death. I have been recalling how, when you receive a physical letter, it feels like obtaining a piece of the person who penned it.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the electronic mediums as much as the next girl. You just can’t beat the convenience of texting/emailing while driving, the divides bridged (and marriages compromised) by social networks, and the home created for otherwise completely useless information.

But, here is the thing, I have a friend (yep, true stuff there). She is a special kind of friend. She is the kind of friend I have known since before puberty.  The kind of friend who remembers the leopard patched ripped-up Levis I wore with pride and will still call me out on if need be. The kind of friend with whom I have, fought, laughed, cried, and survived over the years. The ‘til death do us part kind of friend.

This friend, well, she still on occasion writes letters.  When I least expect it and sometimes most need it, a letter will arrive in my mailbox from her.  It will be filled with words of encouragement, sentiment, and love.  It will be decorated with stickers or sayings.  It will have taken her time, attention and effort to accomplish. Sometimes, the stationary will be hand crafted; sometimes the letter will be written all helter skelter; and sometimes the contents will cause me to smile, laugh or even cry a little.

But, no matter what is inside, the letter always makes my day – in that warm, cared about, loved and appreciated kind of way. In a manner that no email, text, IM, tweet, like or follow ever could, or honestly, ever will.

So today, I am going to write my friend a letter. I am going to enclose some words of love, encouragement and appreciation. Maybe, I will decorate it with stickers.  Probably, I will try to write something funny. Definitely, I will pen into the words a piece of myself. Then, I am going to address it, stamp it and send it via snail-mail.

And when the letter arrives in my friend’s mailbox,

I hope, it makes her day.

Teen Talk, Episode #1

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stick figures

Comic by K

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you the first installment of Teen Talk.  Be assured, everything you are about to hear is real and unedited.  Please, do not try this at home.

One day at the Walgreens checkout…

Mom:  “Teen, could you please carry the bag?”

Teen:  (picks up bag) “Why do I have to carry the bag?”

Mom:  “Because, you are a guy, and guys carry things for girls.”

Teen:  “Oh.”

Mom: “Except a girl’s purse.  You don’t have to carry a girl’s purse.”

Teen:  “Right, there is no need for that kind of shame until you’re married!”

The end

For more views by Teen Go Here: Teen Talk