I think I just wasted 20 minutes of my life (which I’ll never get back) adding two new words to the Urban Dictionary.

GORJ (= gorgeous)

AGORJABLE (= both gorgeous and adorable)

We’ve been using GORJ around here for years now. But AGORJABLE’s definitely a new one. It emerged on twitter (as so much does) when I was direct-messaging my AGORJABLE friend, Ms. @Lindseyjay, who also happens to be GORJ. There — I just used both words in a sentence, in one sentence.

The Urban Dictionary’s not quite the OED, but I’ll get there. I also invented the word LAPPAH, if you recall….

Where was I? I had to leave…. Just lost another 10 minutes of my life (which I’ll never get back) adding LAPPAH to the Urban Dictionary. Please tell me this isn’t as addictive as twitter, or chai lattes….

By the way, don’t search for any of my new words yet. The Urban Dictionary editors have to approve them. But I’m thinking if they approved Sh–––g– and F–––@*&%$, then they’ll probably approve GORJ, AGORJABLE and LAPPAH.

Shh…. Betty White is sleeping, so we have to be quiet….

And I know what you’re thinking. She looks JUST like the dog “Kyle” in Despicable Me with that halucious underbite (and no you’re not having a déjà vu — I’ve definitely mentioned this before, but I like these pictures better!)….

Oh gosh! HALUCIOUS isn’t a real word either, is it? Gotta go.

Addictive.

My Urban Dictionary addiction is healthier than Starbucks, I guess. I suppose I should see if UGGERS and BRILLERS are in there, too…. Ugh. Tired! Hold on.

I’m back.

So, Gorgeouses, in addition to all these super-exciting new words, I’ve made two significant changes in my life. (And no, this isn’t a déjà vu either.) I officially-officially quit Starbucks-soy-no-water-tazo-chai lattes AND I’ve been going to the Ashtanga yoga “shala” every. single. day. Except Saturdays and moon days (it’s traditional not to practice yoga on the days of the new and full moon because the body has less energy and is more prone to injury).

Somehow, it was always okay to go to the gym every day. Why not yoga, until now?

It just so happens I’m not the only crazy “Ashtangi” around these parts. Have you seen Eden Kennedy’s brillers Yogabeans! blog? I’m doing what those action figures are doing every. single. day.

I never thought I’d love sweating in a hot shala every day doing intense yoga that has my heart pumping, face beet red. Yoga was always about bliss before, and breathing into your toes…. Now it’s about tradition, strength, focus, presence and, more than ever (and unexpectedly), community. I have the support I need to get strong and fit and calm(er) and healthy. That, and I get to be with other crazy Ashtangis every day. And they are a cool people. I’m telling you. Cool. (Although I’m a little irate with some of them for being in MEXICO right now on a dream retreat. Grrrr….)

After my yoga practice today, Alice left a “reward” for me at the front desk. And I’ve been verklempt about it ever since. It was the most delicious thing I’d tasted in a long time because it was a homemade, macrobiotic, nourishing nourishing treat. Look how pretty….

Alice says it’s my reward for going baked-goods FREE until January. Mmmm-mmm! Be part of the challenge, get the recipe, and potentially earn your very own “rice triangle sandwich” at ALICE’S NEW Macrobiotic food blog — you’ll see my pretty sandwich and I are featured in her post!

I’m telling you Gorgeouses! I have a new lease on life. Finally, I’m taking care of BOTH my family AND myself. At 3 and 5 years old, my kids are thoroughly entertained and excited by their mama’s curious passion. And I see how good it is for them to see me taking care of myself and doing something, to think!, for me (who?) — which, really, is ultimately for them…. Because practicing my yoga and eating right make me a happier, healthier and more present mom (and person all around).

Now, sit back, and watch me melt off 20 pounds with joy….

Love! xoxo Haley-O

I’ve been complaining a wee bit about waking up at 6am every morning to do yoga and I think I’ve figured out what the problem is.

I wake up at 6am — usually after a late night working — so I can do something for me. Something QUIET and JUST for me.

Usually, my kids wake up at around 7:30am (also 2:30, 4:45, and 5:40, but that’s for another blog post). So I figured if I wanted to do any sort of thing that was JUST FOR ME under my roof, I better set my alarm a little earlier, pad softly down the stairs and enjoy.

Not so much.

The moment I shift into consciousness, the moment my eyelids dare part, HE wakes up….

And then SHE wakes up….

Thankfully, SHE stays put in bed….

But occasionally — and with special thanks to DAYLIGHT SAVINGS — she gets up too and at some point, usually midway into my yoga practice, wants breakfast….

We’ll not talk about the horrid cat situation. Okay — twist my arm — briefly: HE wakes up shortly before 6am (of course), steals my last precious minutes of sleep by locating any perceivable piece of plastic and crinkling it (i.e., threatening to eat it and die), or spilling the water on my night table (i.e., right-next-to-my-Kobo).

Sic ‘em, Betty White…!

So waking up at 6am would be EASY and maybe even JOYFUL if I didn’t have to contend with all of the above — not to mention that pesky little voice in my head that goes on and on about stuff like, “You could sooo, toooootally stay in bed until 7:30,” “what’s one day off of yoga?” “You need a break,” “You deserve a break,” and, of course, “can we have a chai latte later? Maybe don’t do yoga and have a chai today, and then be PERFECT tomorrow?” “You’ll never lose this weight, so screw it!” Ugh.

It’s truly amazing, then, when you think about it, that I actually got up at 6am every morning this week AND got start-to-finish through my yoga practice. I let out the dog, I set Rascal up on the couch (he never stays there), I break up cat-and-dog fights, I get Rascal water and the Monkey some cereal and blueberries…. “Can I lie on you?” Rascal asks, as I fold over in janu sirsasana C….

It’s not exactly meditative like yoga’s supposed to be…. But occasionally, like in a semi-uninterrupted janu sirsasana B, my mind gets really quiet, and 5 breaths can feel like 5 minutes…and I can maybe sense a sweet little surrender.

But, there ARE people who do this sort of thing no problem. A friend of mine with a 1- and 3-year-old wakes up at 5am to workout blissfully in her basement. Her kids, however, aren’t high maintenance….

My yoga teacher, who has a 5-month-old, wakes up a THREE A-M to practice…. I knowww!

Still there are others like Sarah, mom of FOUR. She wakes up at 5:30am every morning because that’s WHEN HER KIDS WAKE UP. Does she get any time to herself at all — let alone to workout? Who am I to complain about a self-imposed 6am?

So questions. Is it selfish of me to EXPECT time for myself at 6am? It’s not even like waking up at 5am would make a difference, I remind you, since the Rascal LIVES for “up time.”  I mean, my kids are 3 and 5. Isn’t it healthy for them to see mom taking care of herself and taking SOME time for herself? Thoughts?

PS: After writing this post, I got emails and comments suggesting that I’m too hard on myself. You don’t know the half of it, I’m afraid. But, it’s the way I am, and I’m working on it. Recognition goooooood. I suppose a very good product of all this is that I’m surprisingly not hard on my kids. I hope (pray) they’re never this hard on themselves, and that I can learn to be less hard on myself before they start to notice. Taking care of myself, I think, is a start — even if it means embracing a little discipline. Now, please excuse me, I need to go lift my puppy off my dining room table again. (Special thanks to RJ….)

PPS: MARRRRRRGE!

PPPS: My colleague told me Minden and I look alike.

Love!

xo Haley-O

Imagine if I could wake up at 6am everyday, do yoga everyday, cook healthy food everyday, drink herbal tea instead of Starbucks’ chai cracké every day…. Is it possible?

I live every day in the aimless shadow of this perfection. So let’s figure out what’s going on here, what’s actually attainable, and what I might be like, what I might look like, if I could possibly live this near-perfect lifestyle. Because what I might be like, or what I might look like, is in part (I think) what I’m afraid of.

Emotions aside, there are three obvious things to think about now that enough is officially enough:

A) I can do this. People do this. It’s possible. Anything’s possible, they say — except maybe somersaulting all the way around the world. In the air. With your feet behind your head. And your eyes crossed.

B) All the constant striving has to stop. Either just do it, or stop striving and accept things as they are (which won’t work because this just isn’t healthy, or the way I want to live, and enough is enough, and more about that over in the kitchen).

C) This striving is actually who I am. A Virgo. Quintessential. Perfectionista. Which means I’m constantly disappointed in myself because no one can be a perfect mother or person — but certainly clean eating and an hour of yoga a day and a dog that doesn’t jet down the street every time you open the front door is a kind of achievable perfection, no?

So I think what we need is A+B+C. I accept that I’m a perfectionist. But I can’t keep beating myself up all the time and giving up on things I want in this short, precious life. Yet I know this one thing I want for myself (and ultimately for my loved ones) is attainable. As my brillers yoga teacher told me, and as @lindseyjay kindly reminds me every day, “I can have this if I want it.”

As I write this, my little guy’s sticking his fingers on either side of my mouth, and streeeetching — you see why I only blog once a week now, sighh…. No longer the perfect every-day blogger I once was. Is everything FAIL? WAH! Wah wah. I know.

So I have a new focus, and hopefully this will do the trick. COMMITMENT. Eureka!

It’s not: “Should I or shouldn’t I have that chai fa-ri-ckin latte?” Instead it’s: “How committed am I right now?” If I find my level of commitment is 3 out of 10, I need to take a few breaths, conjure up an image in my mind of Jennifer Aniston in a bikini (at 40!), and raise it to 5, and then to 8, 10, 11, and drive right on by the seductive green sign.

Maybe this sudden new focus, new urgency, explains why I’ve been dreaming constantly about this guy….

…and seeing him and elephants elephants elephants everywhere. Ganesha, Remover of Obstacles. How awesomely fitting.

I think it’s time.

No. It’s time.

It’s time for a rebirth. Not of the old, pre-motherhood me — who was skinny and fit and driven and self-obsessed — but of a new healthier me who just so happens to set a better example for her children and maybe even for others, too.

So it’s on. Starting (necessarily, I think) with a cleanse. The Fall Fast begins…………NOW, with the famous Feel Good Guru of Toronto. Who’s with me?

And it’s on. Yoga six mornings a week — with a break on Saturdays and Moon Days — as the Yoga Guru prescribed. No need for aerobics. Ashtanga Vinyasa yoga is crazy rigorous. Though it’s so much more than a workout…. How committed are you?

Join me for a complexion-clearing, calorie-buring green smoothie? Cheers!

And now the Rascal’s calling me “Hayay.” He still can’t fully pronounce those L’s. Haley. Hmm. Who’s that? Who will that be (or look like) if I attain this attainable goal? Time to find out again. Not scary at all.

Love!

xo Haley-O

As many of you know by now, I am a woman of extremes. One day I’m letting it go, and the next, today, I’m reining it in. What is up with my karma, Gorgeouses? I have some major, major karma to deal with. I mean, obviously, it could be worse — like, Oedipus (dude had some bad Karma), Anne Boleyn or George Costanza…. But this is definitely a karmic situation. And I’m not talking this Situation, for the record….

Looove. Seriously. Not in a Clive Owen kind of way.

I just struggle. I really struggle with the day-to-day stuff. My problem is that I just want to do whatever I want. Period. I struggle between my intense desire to do whatever I want and my severe desire to live an ideal life. I get completely overwhelmed by the idea that there may be a balance between these two extremes — freedom and restriction — but, I know, there is freedom in restriction, and that there is so, so much restriction in, erm, gluttony….

Woahh, this is getting to heady for us.

Take my puppy Betty White, for example. She knows exactly what she wants or needs to do. She’s perfect at it if you think about it — running in the yard, eating when she’s hungry, attacking me with kisses while I’m driving…. She’s definitely one of my idols when it comes to my karmic situation. Not this Situation, for the record….

Looove. Seriously. Not in a Javier Bardem kind of way.

Before we continue our very important conversation here, can we talk about Mr. Bardem’s serious hotness in Eat, Pray, Love for a second? Omigosh, SWOON. Hold on a sec, here….

Paaaaaaauuuuuse………

Sure, I’m one lucky woman. Not as lucky as Julia Roberts, who got to spoon Javier Bardem….

But she did it. Or, her character, Elizabeth Gilbert did it, or at least wrote the book about it. Elizabeth Gilbert — the same woman who reminds me that no woman, none of us, really knows what she’s doing these days. We have oodles of choices, and, having no oodles-of-choices predecessors, we struggle with what to do with these oodles. Here, let her say it herself….

No wonder, amid a sea of Eat, Pray, Love haters (I know you’re out there), I love Elizabeth Gilbert. She and I are, like, the same person: neurotic and struggling among the extremes of pleasure, restriction and relationships, and we are a wee bit obsessed with yoga, writing and eating. Fast forward to the last few minutes of the video….

Oh, heady again.

…When all I meant to write about was Betty White at the dinner table….

(Underbite.) She’s out of control!

(Tongue. Also chili.)

And he! He stole my favourite lip gloss!

(Bottom-teeth gap.)

And this. Between me and my macbook….

(Withkerth.) — You have to say that one out loud to understand it.

Out of control. Or, in Canadian speak, OOT of control. I’m starting to talk like that, Gorgeouses. For real life, eh? (“For real life” is actually Monkey speak for “For real” — FYI.)

Sighh. Anyway, I think I’m going on a diet (ish). And I’m doing Ashtanga yoga again — an hour or so every day but Saturdays and moon days.  Because it’s one or the other for me. I just feel like there’s freedom in it. In not having to choose all the time…. Dammit.

One day I’ll write the book on my karmic roller-coaster journey among extremes. And I’ll call it Dogs at the Dinner Table. It has a ring to it, right? On the cover, a picture of me and Betty White in downward-facing dog pose…. You can read it on your Kobos (my latest obsession. see twitter).

I had an aha moment as I was walking down the hallway at work the other day on a little scenic route past Flare Magazine‘s steamers, stylists and clothing racks — the novelty of which remains untarnished, especially because I’m a huge fan of MTV’s….

On the recommendation of Caroline Dupont and Oprah, I’ve been reading Geneen Roth‘s bestselling book Women, Food and God: an Unexpected Path to Almost Everything.

The book came so highly recommended that I just had to make sense of it. And I’ve been working really hard to apply the great lessons in this book to my life; but, in the meantime, I’ve been eating when I’m not hungry and, mostly, the wrong foods. It made sense to me that one’s relationship with food could be, as the subtitle of the book says, “An Unexpected Path to Almost Everything,” but only theoretically. I couldn’t quite pin down how it could apply to me practically.

But here’s the thing. You know how I’ve been waking up 2 hours early every day to do my rigorous Ashtanga yoga practice — sweating it out on the mat and pacifying the Rascal, pushing couches out of my face while in shoulderstand (seriously), or tearing growling, screaming cats and dog away from each other while trying to breathe deep, long ujayii breaths in forward bend? Well, you know, some things just don’t work. As much as I wanted to do everything right, to practice real, authentic yoga every single morning except Saturdays and “moon days”, it just wasn’t feasible. Waking myself up every morning to basically restrict myself for 2 hours was doing harm. And it was causing me to lose control in other areas. I was eating more. Running to Starbucks a sweaty mess, straight from the hot studio. Can I please have a grande soy no-water tazo chai? *glargh*

It was the food, that dang chai addiction, that showed me what’s really going on with me. A sweet, cinnamony looking glass….

Walking down that long hallway past the pretty people and posters and amazing clothes, I realized: The more I restrict myself the more out of control my diet gets.

So the yoga was getting too hard. Too forced. Everything, motherhood, was getting too hard. Too forced. And the old ways were coming back: the TIRED, the chai lattes, the cookies…the cookies.

Then I realized, just as I passed the fashion rack — AHA! The “doorway” that Geneen Roth talks about isn’t that one eating meltdown. No. It’s the patterns. The fall after fall after fall off the wagon. When do they happen? What’s going on when I fall?

When I eat poorly — really poorly — it MEANS I’M RESTRICTING MYSELF TOO MUCH. It means it’s time for a break. Time to crawl back into my shell and give myself permission to rest.

REST.

So, instead of trapping myself on the mat for two hours first thing in the morning, I’m waking up a little later and going for a walk with Betty White. I’m taking the kids for hikes, which are usually colossal epic FAILS (for another blog post), but beautiful….

I’m going to the yoga studio (two yoga studios — one for rigor and one for…rest) to practice when I can, and fitting fun yoga into some afternoons. It’s healthier for my kids to see me actually enjoying this healthy passion of mine, rather than struggling to get through it.

My eating is the key. The “doorway.” It tells me when I fall into those patterns of restriction, when I’m being too hard on myself, when I need to take a break, sit back, and enjoy life…. Enjoy life. #Concept.

So, as Roth recommends (read it!), I’m going back to my body, becoming aware of my breath and giving myself permission to chill. Oh, man, PERMISSION. Allowing Permission herself to melt over me like a like warm glinting maple syrup….. Mmmmm, syrup…. I don’t have to do anything. Anything. I don’t even have to please you right now….

But, love….

Tonight I made a lentil soup and this fabulous green bean dish (recipe to come). I tasted everything, and I felt something warm and bright and ray-like in my belly — happiness?

Love!

xo Haley-O

Keeping up with my blog now that I have a full-time writing job is proving très challenging — mostly because, by the end of the night, when my day-writing is done, and the kids are finally in bed, I’m wiped, and my brain is mush.

Plus, I’ve been getting up early in the morning. I mean, really early. Before I started working at Today’s Parent I used to drag myself out of bed as late as humanly possible — I was exhausted from writing late, I mean, really late, into the night. Now, I’m dragging myself out of bed as early as humanly possible. Why? The answer is threefold (I just said that with a Spanish accent, FYI):

The First. Because I want to get to work by 8:30am.

The Second. Because THE RASCAL slows me down — he’s beyond stubborn and demanding in the morning. I sense the beginnings of lower-back pain because, you know, he sleeps on top of me, and, then, the minute I wake up to start on The Third, he’s up, too….

The Third. Because I’ve decided I want to get in shape, I’ve been walking for half an hour every day before work. Only the complications around this fold are twofold:

The First. The Rascal freaks out when I leave the house so early. He needs to drink from his sippy cup and rub my back for at least half an hour before we get out of bed. (So, I wake up even earlier…for the back rub…the awesome back rub.) #highmaintenance

The Second. The dog. I have to take Betty White with me on the walk, or else I have to walk her again later, and there’s no time for that, as you can see…. But, the problem is, she’s a reluctant walker. The vet who lives down the street has never seen such a thing — a puppy who doesn’t want to go for walks. Of course, it deserves pictorial elaboration….

Betty White at the beginning of the morning walk:

Betty White during the walk:

She basically runs as fast as she can to get home the entire time. I know this because she gets even faster on the way back. Silver lining? Makes for an awesome pacer….

And it’s not just the morning walks. Here’s Betty White at the beginning of our family walk later that day….

Underbite.

When we came home from Toy Story 3 that same night, it was pouring rain. Josh had to drag her outside, of course. Imagine that. I don’t have a great picture of Betty White refusing to walk in the rain. But I DO have a picture of Josh-O carrying the only umbrella we could find (which is even better)….

I know once I get used to this routine, and the morning “swamp smoothies” (that my co-workers were gagging at this morning) start kicking in, I’ll be able to do this, or to do more, or be less mushy — inside and out.

Oh, and I’m on Day 2 of quitting chai lattes…, again. At this point in my chai-quitting career, quitting alone is enough to turn my brain to mush. A thousand fold.

Goodnight!

Love! xo Haley-O

I haven’t been around much lately, I know. All this not-sleeping at night has caught up with me. I’m sick. Again. This time it’s some sort of sinus thing that, I swear, might as well be vertigo the way I’m falling all over the place. I’m a bit of a hot mess. I’ve spent the past two days — two DAYS — in bed. And I thought, instead of eating dinner (the mere notion of which I can’t stomach), I’d attempt to write a blog post about how sick I am. FUN, I knowww!

And to think I made myself a list of new “commitments” just the other day. I decided it’s (that) time (again) to make a change. Because I made a deal with myself back in September (my birthday), and then three weeks before New Years, that I would make concrete changes, and nothing has changed. And I keep beating myself up — I do! — for not making changes. Maybe my expectations have been too high, I don’t know: quitting Starbucks — too high? I want to feel and look good, nay fabulous. I really do.

In my haze, I’ll attempt to remember my new commitments and share them with you here. They’re sitting upstairs in a brand new 100% recycled notebook. They’re not too lofty, I don’t think….

1. I commit to eating nutritious food.

2. I commit to sitting (meditating) 5 minutes a day.

3. I commit to doing my breathing exercises (or pranayama) 5 minutes a day.

4. I commit to doing yoga 5 minutes a day.

5. I commit to walking outside 20 minutes a day.

The idea is that if I commit to 5 minutes — I may just want to do MORE. Anyway, there are other commitments, too. I can only remember the diet and exercise ones with this splitting headache I’m sporting. The idea is, just, to COMMIT to switching things up, finally. I spend way too much time futzing around at Starbucks. I love getting out of the house when the kids are at school, sure, but it seems I need to spend a wee bit more time here on my yoga mat and outside. I definitely need to take better care of myself. And, let’s see, 35 minutes a day taking care of myself? Sounds reasonable to me. And from the way I’m feeling these days — sick, like, every other week? — sounds necessary to me. I could even take Rascal with me for my 20-minute walk. He’ll love that.

There you have it. As soon as I feel better, it’s on, baby. Actually, I have my yoga class tomorrow — which means at least half an hour of pranayama, ten minutes of meditation, and an hour of yoga. I adore yoga, the poses, philosophy, psychology. It’s absolutely my passion. This doesn’t mean that I act like a yogini or anything (whatever that means). I’ve been SO negative lately, what with this awful cold. It just might mean that I recognize and work with that negativity, and accept it as part of myself. Blah blah. My eyes are burning. And Brett Michaels is on Celebrity Apprentice. And Rascal’s up again……

Love!

xo Haley-O

I can do this.

I just drank a mug of vegan hot cocoa out of my “Heaven-Knows-It’s-Surely-True-That-Mothers-Need-a-Time-Out-Too” mug. Watching a little TMZ. Which may come as a surprise to some of you because, of course, I only watch CLASSY TV shows, like The Bachelor (did you see this season’s premier OMG — even *I* was embarrassed, it was so embarrassing), and my latest favourite, The Real Housewives of, well, all of them — Atlanta, Orange County, New York (in no particular order). NENE!!!

I love NeNe — partly because she hates brilliantly on a certain someone (KIM) whom I can’t stand because she smokes in her house, in her children’s faces.

I can TOTALLY understand if people can’t quit smoking — it took me YEARS to quit chai lattes (I’m still not out of the woods, but let’s pretend). But, I CAN’T understand knowingly exposing your young children to secondhand smoke. Seriously, WTF!? Who DOES that? Does anyone DO that? Anyway, don’t get me started on KIM. Where were we? Oh yes, LOVE NENE. But doesn’t EVERYONE?

I actually liked Anderson Cooper better when he was the host of The Mole — partly because I only watch classy TV, and not CNN. I prefer TMZ….

Where was I? Oh yes. I can do this.

I can write a blog post tonight, and I can get a good few hours of work done (egad) EVEN though I’m exhausted. Yes, exhausted. But, not whiny “WOE IS ME, MY KIDS DON’T SLEEP” exhausted. More like “DAY 15 OF JILLIAN MICHAELS’ HELL VIDEO,” as I like to call it. Level 2, baby. My feet are starting to hurt….

No, seriously, my feet are really hurting. Well, foot. It’s throbbing as we speak, Gorgeouses. I’m sure a good night’s sleep will help (but, ALAS, my kids still aren’t sleeping — WOE! is me). Yoga helps.

Oh GOD. I’m watching GLEE now, and Matthew Morrison is singing Bust A Move. OH! He’s dancing! And now he’s singing the THONG SONG — MOVE OVAH, Justin Timberlake. I’m telling you! And I am telling you!

In conclusion, I am in love with

Matthew Morrison….

and

Harvey Levin….

“I’m a lawyer!”

By the way, I’m also exhausted because the Monkey has a new imaginary friend, “Julia,” and Julia’s sleeping over tonight. Also, the Rascal’s been saying “f*ck” all the time, over and over again. Also, according to the Rascal’s nursery school “Feeling Table,” the words he likes to use are “hard” and “soft.” He needs to build on others, like “bumpy, scratchy, etc.”

LOVE! xo Haley-O

I’m having trouble writing this post. Know why? Two reasons: 1) I’m hungry; 2) I’m tired. Well, I’m not really hungry. I’m NUDGED — which is Jewish talk for “I JUST FEEL LIKE EATING.” If I’m going to get fit and fabulous, if I’m going to make the Jillian Michael’s HELL VIDEO worth it every freaking morning when I could be cuddling in my warm bed with my Rascal, if I’m going to FINALLY break old habits I cultivated to keep paralyzing anxiety at bay during my pregnancies — OVER TWO YEARS AGO NOW — and if I’m going to look SMOKIN’ hott in my tankini in Florida (where I’ll be for NINE DAYS at the end of this month — GOD BLESS MY PARENTS), then I’m going to have to stop stop STOP eating at night, like, after dinner, like, just because I FEEL LIKE IT, like, just because I’M tired and, like, because I apparently believe that keeping my mouth busy somehow helps me concentrate at night, like, on work and stuff.

If only I wasn’t TERRIFIED of gum.

So, maybe that means I go to bed shortly after dinner JUST so I don’t eat?

But, how will I get my work done? I no longer work when I’m alone with the kids. They’re DISTRACTING, and I love hanging with them. Love love love. Which is also why I’m tired.

“Monkey,” I ask, “Who are you talking to?” “NO ONE, MAMA! I’m just talking to MYSELF!”

Yes, motherhood is GOOOOD right now (except for the constant leftover preggers anxiety that just hovers there like a cat hair dangling from my eyelash — so annoying). I’m loving the ages they’re at: 2 and 4. Oy! And life is short. They grow up so fast. And some other cliche. So, I stay up late so I can enjoy my kids AND work my arse off — so I can have my cake and eat it, too. (Mmmm…. Cake…..)

Where was I?

Which is why I’m tired. And nudged at the end of the day, when they’re finally in bed, and I have a boatload of work to plow through.

AND, now, I’ve just eaten a handful of low-sodium, gluten-free pretzels and vegan hot cocoa. Not SO bad. But, unnecessary. I wasn’t hungry. Why eat when you’re not hungry? At night? WHY? I need to get to the bottom of this.

It’s not about weight, Gorgeouses. It’s about addiction and habits and moving FORWARD after my pregnancies. Maybe some counseling is in order. Or some energy work. Lots of energy work and counseling. I’ll never be my old self. And I don’t WANT to be my old skinny pre-pregnancy self. I just want to stop hiding. I want to be free of these self-sabotaging habits! Heyyy…! Who invited Dr. Phil to this party…?

So, HELP! What can I do to STOP eating at night? Believe it or not, I’ve QUIT STARBUCKS! I haven’t had a grande soy no-water tazo chai in over a week. HOORAHHH! I’ve also been exercising HARD CORE for 11 days straight. HOORAHHH! AND, I’ve been doing major yoga daily. HOORAHHH! I’m definitely patting myself on the back for all of this. But the next big thing is conquering the night eating. THEN I’ll be happy (realistically, though, I’ll probably find something else to conquer — must. stoppit.) Anyway, help?

I’ll take any advice on stopping the night eating other than GUM. Gaaaahhhhhhh GUMMM Gaaaaahhhh!

By the way, check CHEATY GOODIES for the WINNAH of the FLIP VIDEO CAMCORDER contest — it’s another fun-filled video STARRING the Monkey, the Rascal, moi and Josh-O. Enjoy!

Ooo! And, by the way, my designer spruced up my Kids Deserve Art store! NEW HOME PAGE, and I’ve lowered prices. I know — sweeeeet! Many thanks to the ridiculously talented SARA KUGELMASS (aka the brillers force behind SKART, and much more)!

Happy 2010! It’s gonna be a GOOD ONE!

Love!

xo Haley-O

I have resolutions. As most of you know, I’m ALWAYS making resolutions, so you can’t be THAT surprised to see that my first post in ALMOST a week (I couldn’t hold out for the whole week…) is a long list of resolutions. Because, as you will see from this list, I resolve to be PERFECT in 2010. Yes, PERFECT. And, you know what, Gorgeouses? I’ve already started. See, for me, 2010 started last week. And so far so good. Except for tonight, when I splurged on some organic lollipops and, erm, a chai freaking f*ing latte, grrrrr….

A-ny-way….

Check it:

IN 2010, I RESOLVE….

1. To lose 25 pounds. And, yes, this belongs at the top of my list. Because LOOK at these videos of me — particularly the last one. I ran and reran it, like, a thousand times, NO KIDDING, trying harrrrd to deny that I looked rather large. And it DIDN’T HELP that….

MORE importantly, this resolution belongs at the top of my list because the better I feel about myself, the more I exercise and the healthier I eat, the better person I BECOME all ’round — the better, less anxious, MOTHER I become, the more PATIENT and CONFIDENT and INSPIRED and ENERGETIC I become. See this is KEY. SO, to get started on this goal, I’ve ALREADY begun my 30-Day Shred program….

I’m on DAY 7 of Level 1. I’m doing each level for 10 days (as prescribed by Shredheads). I haven’t lost a single pound this week, but I’m seeing some definition in my belly and shoulders again. So, as I tweeted the other day, I’m holding on tight to the fact that….

2. Hi, my name is Haley-O, and I’m a Shopaholic. Yes, à la Rebecca Bloomwood….

In fact, I’m watching the movie Confessions of a Shopaholic AS I WRITE this post – LOVE!  Only I don’t spend my money on fabulously quirky designer clothes and accessories like Rebecca Bloomwood does, no. I spend tons of money on designer organic FOOD that often never gets used. So, I resolved to PLAN PLAN PLAN what I’m going to cook (speaking of which, have you SEEN my latest recipe, in which I actually USE my designer foods?), and BUDGET BUDGET BUDGET what I spend. Incidentally, I can’t take my eyes off Isla Fischer’s GLORIOUS red hair in this movie. Which reminds me….

3. I will get a hair cut. It is, like, GROSS long right now. But, TIME! There’s never any TIME!

4. WHICH reminds me of my resolution to KEEP AN AGENDA! In 2010 I will keep an agenda — TO THE HOUR. Because, as I mentioned JUST the other day….

5. I will go to the office at least twice a week.

6. I will write at least 2 brillers articles for Cottage Country PER WEEK.

7. I will be as patient with myself and others as my boss at Cottage Country has been with me….

8. I will practice yoga and meditate every day (even if it’s for 5-10 minutes).

9. I will brush my cats’ teeth.

10. As a little voice in my head told me (DO do DO do DO do DO do — it’s the twilight zone theme song, okay!?!) during my savasana meditation at the end of yesterday’s yoga session….

LIVE!

In the year 2010, I WILL LIVE. I’m not really sure exactly what that means, but I THINK it has something to do with worrying less and living more, with being in the PRESENT — whether I’m working, playing with the kids, cooking, exercising, or just chilling with my kitties….

OR! Chilling with my parents’ Chinese Crested Powder Puff “Olivia”…. Did I mention, I’m babysitting her? I love taking her EVERYWHERE with me. EVERYWHERE!

I’m a regular PARIS HILTON!

Check her out at the office HERE. She did NOT get along with the boss’s dog Taco at all. BUT, she DOTH love my MEENO (Minden)! Here she is, cuddling with Minden….

OY! Olivia’s deaf, by the way. Did I mention that?

Monkey: Yulivia! Yulivia! Come here!
Me: Honey, Olivia can’t hear you. She’s deaf, remember?
Monkey: Why? Can she not hear because her ears are down?

Hee…!

Did I mention it’sgrandma and papa’shere took me and the Monkey to The National Ballet of Canada’s (LOVE!) production of The Nutcracker? Here’s it’sgrandma and the Monkey chatting excitedly ahead of me….

And, here are the Monkey and me…. Ahhh, special moments! #TOOLONGHAIR!!!

We were so ridiculously lucky to have my absolute favourite male ballet dancer, PIOTR STANCZYK (see, I wrote about him HERE), dance the role of the Nutcracker….

LOVE!!!!!!!111oneone

And, incredibly, my favourite female ballet dancer, Sonia Rodriguez, danced the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy….

I was in HEAVEN. Didn’t want it to end. Papa’shere didn’t even fall asleep during the performance! Seriously, the show was so good I was fantasizing about it the next day. Loooooove. As I always like to say, the National Ballet of Canada is a Canadian GEM that is so worth our support. SWAN LAKE is coming in March! Toronto Gorgeouses, book your tix! (And, no, nobody pays me to say this!)

Did I mention it’sgrandma and papa’shere bought the Monkey a little porcelain ballerina at the Ballet Boutique, just before the show? Did I mention she dropped it during the intermission and the hand fell off and papa’shere was going to glue it but the Monkey wanted to take it home, so I said I’d glue it, but then, did I mention, the Rascal got hold of it and threw it on the ground and smashed it to pieces. So, did I mention, I went back to the The Nutcracker the following day, raved to the usher about Piotr Stanczyk, and bought her a new porcelain ballerina? DEEP BREATH. Did I mention that?

How many days do you think this porcelain ballerina is going to last before it’s smashed to pieces again?

Yes, in 2010, I’m going to live and LAUGH and LOVE more….

How about you, Gorgeouses?

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Love!
xo Haley-O

P.S.: Did I mention there’s a wee contest going on over at Cheaty Goodies? If you haven’t seen it, get the FLIP over there because I’m giving away a FLIP CAMCORDER, and the contest closes DECEMBER 31st!