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

We had our first lemonade sale today. The Monkey was so excited about it yesterday she could hardly sleep. Of course, I was blasé about it. I’ve often wished I could get as excited about such mundane family activities as going to the park or Canada’s Wonderland, as I do about going to the kid movies, like Toy Story 3 or Despicable Me (can’t wait for that one!), or eating muffins together at, erm, Starbucks.

But I’m working on it. See, I noticed something. I’ve been tired lately. I mean, seriously, tired. Anyone who’s either gone out with me or attempted to go out with me in the past month or so will have noticed. I am tired. Granted, my whole lifestyle has changed. I now no longer have any free time to myself. I go from working 9am-1pm to tending to a very high-maintenance little Rascal, then picking up his sister,  entertaining them both until dinner (which, of course, has to be cooked at some point), and, finally, completing my at-home work hours, cleaning up and making camp lunches in the evening.

So, I haven’t been able to blog much. What, once a week, max? It’s not so much because I can’t make the time, but because I don’t have the energy, because I am tired. And — surprise surprise — I blame Starbucks.

See, it’s like a drug. No, it’s not like a drug; it IS a drug. The more I drink it, the more I want it. In case you don’t already know, I’m talking about the devil itself: grande soy no-water tazo chai latte. Rolls off the tongue, it does….

Most of you know well how hard I’ve battled with this mad drink. MAD. I’ve known it was bad for me, even though everyone else was whatevs about it. I’ve unintentionally gotten a bunch of you Gorgeouses hooked on this demonic drink. Well, now I’m serious. I mean, I mean business. It’s a drug.

Like any hardcore drug, I went off it for a few days, and I was tired — major withdrawal. But now? Three days later (I made it!)? NOT TIRED. Miraculously NOT TIRED. No massive mid-day slump. NONE. I can WALK again at 3pm.

It’s a drug, I repeat. A DRUG. Like any hardcore drug, the more you drink it, the more you want it. One chai in the morning was no longer satisfying my NEED. And there was no way I was going to start buying a second chai in the afternoon, so I was passing out for want of it. Tired. Beyond tired. So, I quit it. Quit it for good. No joke. I never EVER want to feel that tiredness again.

So, lemonade stand! Already I’m excited again…. Not mundane at all. She made a sign!

And he made a sign to go with it (couldn’t you just…OY!)….

Unfortunately (my former addicted self may have said fortunately), I had to skip out for a bit to do a work assignment at the Distillery District downtown. Isn’t it fab?

It was like a mini vacation. No Starbucks required. And the whole excursion took me an hour and half….

I returned home to a topless Rascal and bikini-clad monkey enjoying some swimming in our neighbour’s front yard. Heaven! I loved this day! Maybe next week we’ll go to the Distillery District….

How was your weekend? Stay off that chai, Gorgoueses, okay? Take it from me. I’m so serious.

Love! xo Haley-O

ARTICLE ROUNDUP (my latest Today’s Parent / Canadian Parents Online articles):

Toys That Make You Go Hmmm…: The 9 most curious children’s toys ever made (This one ended up on the home page of MSN – woohoo! And it’s a funny one! If you check any of them, check THIS ONE!)

So you want to be a mom blogger: six things you need to know

11 Baby Shower Games

10 Maternity-wear Must-haves

Is It OK to Drink When You’re Pregnant

Of course, please check out my celeb blog CELEBRITY CANDY for constant updates.

Once we have reached the desired end, we think, we will turn back to purify and consecrate the means. Once the war we’re fighting for peace is won, then the generals will become saints, the burned children will proclaim in the heaven that their suffering is well repaid, the poisoned forests will turn green again. Once we have peace, we say, or abundance or justice or truth, or comfort, everything will be right. Well, it’s an old dream.

It’s a vicious illusion. For the discipline of ends is no discipline at all. The end is preserved in the means; a desirable end may forever perish in the wrong means. Hope lives in the means, not in the end. Art does not survive in its revelations, or agriculture in its products, or craftsmanship in its artifacts, or civilization in its monuments, or faith in its relics.

– Wendell Berry

Forgive me, Gorgeouses, for I hath ingested NO CHAI LATTES in two whole days. In fact, I have not had a stitch of sugar, nor a drop of caffeine.

Forgive me, Gorgeouses, for I hath exhaustion, anger and frustration — all the usual “evil” emotions that come-out-come-out with detoxification, with withdrawal.

Forgive me, Gorgeouses, for I hath posted LONG QUOTE (above) that I totally want you to read. It came to me today via iPod, via him, as usual. Which wouldn’t be such a big deal, if I didn’t ALSO get an email from her with a similar message — reminding me not to focus so much on “goals,” dietary and otherwise, but instead to make “one self-supportive choice at a time”:

What prevents you from doing things for yourself is not a lack of goals or intentions as you probably know. What would it be like to simply be kind to yourself? To rest, to eat nourishing food, to take your body out for some fresh air and movement, to allow yourself to feel your emotions, to make space for quiet time, to pray…? To trust that wholeness is already here, and not something you have to create or find? (Email, Caroline Dupont)

To think, I’d get such similar messages in two days — two days sans chai latte. So I’m DONE with GOALS, the “old dream,” “vicious illusion.” We are now, officially, all about the means (even though this, too, can become a goal if taken too seriously). It’s like a total sea change for someone as goal-oriented as I am — my entire life.

One self-supporting choice at a time.

Am I wrong? Or, could many of us use this beautiful, sage reminder?

Tomorrow is Josh and my 7th wedding anniversary. SEVENTH. Will I have a chai latte? Probably. Because if I don’t, I might be as miserable as I was today….

Or I may make the ostensibly more self-supporting choice and have a cleansing swamp smoothie…. Or or OR…, maybe for tomorrow — my SEVENTH anniversary — cake and chai lattes are self-supporting, and definitely spouse-supporting, choices?

For our anniversary tomorrow, Josh and I are taking a staycation. My parents are bravely taking the kids all day and overnight, AND they set us up in a five-star hotel in the heart of downtown Toronto — breakfast and a “special package” included! We are going to relax, enjoy, savour, indulge, hold hands, see ALICE IN WONDERLAND in 3D….

So, anyway, yes, I’m taking all the sage advice that came barreling in, welcomed, these past couple of days.  I’m thinking about my exhausting, habitual, annoying goal-making — a habit that’s even stronger, to think, than the chai latte. Without creating another goal, I’m going to simply recognize this goal-making energy, the striving, reaching, the insatiable aiming high, and to gently rein it in, rein myself back….

Kind of like this blog….

Forgive me Gorgeouses, for I don’t always know why I blog here. And I do think about this often. I don’t know where this blog’s going, for how long, to what end…. And that’s finally okay. I may lose readers and gain readers, as the game goes. Yet I plow on. To no end. With no goal.

And, so, I. I put away the arrows. I stand on this ground. Being with what’s here. Like it, or not.

Love!

xo Haley-O

P.S.: Check Cheaty Goodies for a sweeeeet GIVEAWAY. Best facial in GTA, you could win — or fabulous products for the rest of you (Canada, US and beyond)!

Guillaume Côté & Greta Hodgkinson with artists of the ballet in The Sleeping Beauty. Photo by Bruce Zinger, c/o The National Ballet of Canada).

Oh, to sleep a hundred years (and to wake up just as beautiful,
no morning breath, no stiff neck…).

I went to the ballet on Thursday with my mom, it’sgrandma. I was so wound up all day with a bunch of crazy, exciting and last-minute (as usual for me) stuff to do for work that I couldn’t IMAGINE sitting in silence, sans Macbook and sans blackberry for three hours at the ballet.

But, the babysitter arrived, as planned, at 6:30, and off it’sgrandma and I went. Me, in my lululemon yoga pants, of course, and it’sgrandma in her typical blazer and dress pants. One day I’ll dress as sophisticated as it’sgrandma (only never as tailored because I’m convinced I’m incapable). One day, I’ll remember to brush my hair and throw on lip gloss before leaving the house. I was pretty-much a frizzy-haired mess, but that didn’t stop it’sgrandma from introducing me proudly to any old friend we bumped into. Me, clasping my long black sweater to cover my too-tight tee….

I sat in my seat, looked toward the deep red curtain, and I felt my mind racing. I felt my breath halted. And I became aware of a slight buzzzzing all over my body.

How am I going to sit here for 3 hours, through two intermissions? I fretted.

The curtain opened, the music began. And, ahhhhh, le Tchaikovsky. I sat back. Breath came. Shoulders and neck softened. And my brain waves! I could literally feel my brainwaves slow down to smooth ripples. (I even tweeted it….)

The music, the setting, the stunning (as always) National Ballet of Canada dancing were like this delicious concoction. I drank it all up. And all my stress, anxiety, and tension flew out the stage door.

And so here we are again. I’ve been WOUND UP so tight for so long it seems I’ve hardly been breathing. I haven’t been going to yoga because — the same reason I didn’t go to the ballet — I’m actually AFRAID of unwinding.

AND I BLAME IT ALL ON…THIS:

I loathe this drink more than Hootie and the Blowfish, my cats’ wet food and Home Depot all put together. It is the BANE of my existence, the SOURCE of my anxiety issues, and the REASON I don’t eat anything else until 4:30pm every day, the REASON I held my long black sweater so tight across my too-tight tee at the ballet.

I don’t know about any other astrological sign, but VIRGOS like me should not drink chai lattes, or any Starbucks products for that matter. It magnifies all our flaws A TRILLION FOLD.

Watching the ballet not only soothed me because it was so beautiful, but also because it brought me back to a time when I could move like that (to a degree). I was a dancer. I had great energy like that. I could fly and spin and lean all the way back — touching my head to my heal WHILE lifting my leg into a standing splits. These days, I’m just excited to sit on my couch and exercise my fingertips, on my keyboard.

Not good.

So, yet again, we’re making a change. No more chais. EVER. That’s the first goal. That, and more kale, even though….

…and more exercise — more TURBO JAM!

You wouldn’t believe how hard it is for me to quit these chais. It’s been two days of HELL so far. I’m tired and irritable and angry and craving a hundred years of sleep. Just ask it’sgrandma, who attempted to have a phone conversation with me yesterday. Life seems hopelessly BLEAK without this stupid drink. But I’ve been in this place before, every time I quit. Another day or two and I’ll be feeling good as new. Which goes to show that stuff is CRACK.

CRACK.

We’re going to try this for 30 days and see what changes come…. Of course, I’ll keep you posted.

Love!

xo Haley-O

I sit here sipping my last sip of Starbucks Soy Chai Latte (shut it!), flipping the channels, hoping upon hope that The Real Housewives, Atlanta is on so I can see what all the hype is about. But, all that’s on is Girls Next Door, and that show irks me.

I sit here sipping my last sip of Starbucks Soy Chai Latte thinking about my children who love their Mama and who HOLD HANDS during our daily walk around the block IN our rain boots and the dress we wore to our uncle’s wedding WHEN we were 16 MONTHS OLD…. (We love that dress.) At least we’re not wearing our cherry bathing suit and play Cinderella shoes….

I sit here sipping my last sip of Starbucks Soy Chai Latte at 12am.

I sit here sipping my last sip of Starbucks Soy Chai Latte and I had NO IDEA when I sat down to write that I was going to start every paragraph with I sit here sipping my last sip of Starbucks Chai Tea Latte.

I sit here sipping my last sip of Starbucks Soy Chai Latte, and I wonder why I’ve chosen to use the word “sip” twice in I sit here sipping my last sip of Starbucks Chai Tea Latte.

I sit here sipping my last sip of Starbucks Soy Chai Latte wondering how the hell I’m going to get through the rest of my life without this dreaded devil of a drink, but then I think about Mia Michaels’ So You Think You Can Dance “Addiction” piece, which sums up my relationship with this dreaded smirking devil of a drink SO MUCH whether you believe it or not — and so I post it here AGAIN (…I also post it again because have a massive crush on KUPONO, and Mia Michaels, and also have watched it at least 300 times and you should, too…, also video is better quality this time):

I sit here sipping my last sip of Starbucks Soy Chai Latte knowing that I’ll have raging withdrawal headache when I go to my first BLOGGER BOOK CLUB meeting — oh sh*t, I’m supposed to COOK something…. Maybe my new recipe “Rice Rice Baby”? You think?

Need mushrooms.

I sit here sipping my last sip of Starbucks Soy Chai Latte looking forward to the challenge of eating ridiculously healthy and to being well and energized for my children’s sakes. Watch me, Gorgeouses. I will glow out of your screen.

LOVE!

xo Haley-O