If you’ve been following me on twitter, you know I’ve been suffering from an OCD/Anxiety relapse. Yes, the INSANE kind I had in my pregnancies. Just ask the TDot Book Club Bloggers. I’m afraid of my blackberry right now — terrified. And I probably shouldn’t have gone to Book Club last night because I was all, “Hi, how are you? I have ANXIETY! I have OCD! I’m CRAZY! I’m CRAZY like when I was pregnant and was, like, calling the FARMERS who produced the cheese that was in the ravioli I’d eaten at a restaurant the week before to see if it was actually pasteurized [this was before I went vegan, of course], and if the farmer said ‘I don’t know,’ then I was convinced I destroyed my baby.” Remember that, Gorgeouses? The TDots were, of course, SO understanding and supportive. It was a good thing I went. LOVE.

I think my favourite “obsessive thought” EVER was The Weevil Incident. I was about 20 weeks pregnant with the Monkey. I was at work, eating a pack of almonds, and I suddenly realized there was a hole in one of the almonds I’d eaten. It was a perfect hole. Too perfect. So, I went up to my colleague at work and told him about the hole in my almond. It’s a “weevil and a mouse,” he said (we’d been working on a book about weevils and flees and such other GREAT subject matter for me and my morning sickness).  “A weevil and a mouse did that,” he snickered, “those almond factories are infested.” Of course, in my MESSED UP, clinically prenatally depressed preggers mind, this was a real possibility. SO I called the assistant director at Motherisk (I had her direct phone number, of course), and I called my family doctor: “Hello!” I gasped, “I just ate an almond and I think there was a hole in it that was made by a weevil and/or a mouse, IS MY BABY OKAY!?” Yes, this is TRUE. TRUE TRUE.

And here we are again. At this time EACH year, it seems, the doom and gloom and freakish obsessions that characterized my pregnancies RETURN. And here I am crazy.

Last night, I was so crazy I couldn’t blog. And, then there was this morning…. I had to go to the office. They have no idea what EXACTLY it took for me to make an appearance there this morning. It’s bad, Gorgeouses. It’s bad. But, I’m getting some help. My doctors are helping me, and CAROLINE DUPONT.

Yes, it seems my ego gets MAD and VENGEFUL whenever I make positive changes in my life. Pregnancy, meditation, yoga, green smoothies…. Ego is NOT happy because Ego is not the centre of attention. Ego is being silenced and Ego doesn’t like it. So, Ego is trying to TAKE OVER and MAKE IT STOP. It likes it when I’m stuck. It hates change. It likes repetition, addiction, certainty. But, screw it. I’m on to you, Ego. Moving on.

And I can tell you THIS BOOK did not help my anxiety. In fact, it may have triggered an episode or two….

I should not be reading books like this month’s TDOT Blogger Book Club Book of the month. Books about a TRUE murder of a 3-year-old “flaxen”-haired boy — OMG, the Rascal’s hair could not be more FLAXEN and his features more CHERUBIC…I SHOULD NOT BE READING THIS. I am NOT A CANDIDATE for books like this. And I should have KNOWN when I picked this book up in the TRUE CRIME section of the bookstore that I am NOT A CANDIDATE for this book. And, indeed, I flinched visibly when the computer directed me to the TRUE CRIME section of the bookstore.

Yes, so this was one of the most disturbing books I’ve ever read. Sure, it was brilliantly written in a very detached, exquisitely researched, resourceful, investigative way that self-consciously focused more on detective JONATHAN JACK WHICHER — the inspiration for some of the best 19th-century fiction from Charles Dickens to Wilkie Collins (LOVE) — than on the poor FLAXEN-HAIRED boy who lost his life in the most violently disturbing way. And, see I can’t and couldn’t escape the FLAXEN-HAIRED boy because my mind is incapable of registering such a heinous, gruesome event in a detached way. MY MIND goes straight to FEAR.

Fear. The bane of my existence. My life’s challenge has to be to manage it, understand it, overcome it, teach my kids to overcome it. And so, Kate Summerscale’s The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher remains in my basement until I can find a better home for it. Far far away. In fact, I may drive it out to some remote forest FAR FAR AWAY. I’ll put a blindfold over it so IT CAN’T SEE where I’m taking it and, THUS, can’t find its way back to my house ever! And I’ll find an environmentally-friendly way of disposing it forever. So it can’t haunt me like the GHOSTS of poor little SAVILLE KENT and his killers are said to haunt the house at ROAD HILL….

Ahh, good times. And OY! I had so much else to blog about. It’ll have to wait ’til next time. Very good sign that I’m writing tonight. Yay. Baby steps….

Sadly, a lot of that is VERY FAMILIAR…. Damn “What Ifs”!….

Baby steps!

Next month’s book? It’s MY PICK: Annabel Lyon’s highly acclaimed The Golden Mean — so definitely not HORRIFIC, and apparently very SEXAY! Sweeeet.

T’WAS A TIME OF CHANGE. Last week, I wrote a little email…. I needed some help. I’ve been pretty mum about this, but, if you were to seriously stalk my tweets, you’d probably see that I’ve been having some anxiety lately. A lot of anxiety lately. Not “OMG OMG OMG WE’RE ALL GONNA DIEEEEE!” kind of anxiety, but a very physical kind characterized by heart palpitations and obsessive thinking. It’s been rough. And, of course, I blame THE CHAI, which, no, I haven’t been able to quit.

Until last week, that is. THE TIME OF CHANGE…, when I wrote a little email to Caroline Dupont.

Caroline always comes to my rescue. She’s a total EARTH ANGEL, the best healer I know, and rife with sage, practical advice — in person, as well as in her book Enlightened Eating (my eating bible), her meditation cds, and new DVD (which I JUST ordered and am so psyched about).

I wrote a very “determined” (as she put it) email, asking for a complete “regimen.” I wanted breakfast, lunch and dinner DICTATED to me, as well as when to exercise, do yoga, sleep and meditate. I was hoping that this regimen would help me replace old habits with new ones — the right ones.

Caroline didn’t want to give me a strict regimen, though, because she didn’t think it would work for me in the long run. She wanted me simply to start with a few changes. The main one being…

MY MORNING SMOOTHIE (click the link for the recipe).

I’m supposed to drink that thing every day, come hell or high water.

I’m also supposed to walk for 30 minutes 4 days a week, and practice 30 minutes of yoga the remaining three days a week.

I’m supposed to meditate daily. (And, omg, this has been surprisingly SO enlightening and healing. More on this later in the week.)

I’m supposed to go to bed between 9:30 and 10:30 every evening….COOOUUUUUGH!

So, I’ve been drinking my smoothie every morning. NO CHAI (bingo!). And I’ve been walking and meditating and practicing yoga. The only problem with the yoga is that a certain someone gets a little, ermm, creepy while I’m practicing (with my camera in hand, apparently)….

…He’s horribly sneaky and distracting while I’m practicing. But, I INTEGRATE it.

The other changes that I’ve — WE’VE (Josh and I) — made this weekend are MIRACULOUS and will have to wait ’til the next post to be revealed because, without any chai in my system, I’m a total zombie. ZOMBIE. And I can’t write anymore because it’s 9:15 — almost “bedtime” (heh, I wish).

On top of all the above advice (and so much more that I have yet to implement and share), Caroline gave me this gem of guidance that I know she’ll love for me to share:

Your principle spiritual practice right now is your kids. Soon enough they’ll be in school and you’ll have more time for uninterrupted yoga and meditation. Create activities with them…. When you take them to the park remind yourself to breathe and be…. To everything, there is a season.

I’ve really taken that advice to heart and have been LOVING the relief and peace of mind I get from getting down on the floor and really PAINTING and DRAWING again, with my children — ESPECIALLY when I’m not feeling “well”….

…one of my new favourite things…!

Many, MANY, thanks to Caroline Dupont.

Love…!

xo Haley-O

I’m back at the gym. Doctor’s orders. Actually psychiatrist’s orders. YES, I go to a psychiatrist. Not once a week or anything, but once every few months just as a followup to the psychological DISASTERS that were my pregnancies. I think they’re calling it “pregnancy blues,” now. Like, enough women are going (certifiably) insane during pregnancy that there’s finally a term for it. Not “prenatal depression” or “prepartum depression,” as I expected, but “pregnancy blues.” This doesn’t NEARLY describe what I went through (see HERE and HERE for all the gory deets), but at least they have a name for it….

ANYWAY, once you go through something like I did — major, irrational, debilitating pregnancy-hormone-induced anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) — it doesn’t just go away. It comes back every now and then. Most troubling for me is that I still experience the PHYSICAL symptoms of the anxiety/OCD, and I’m finally accepting that certain things trigger these symptoms — like, for example, erm, hem, haw, CAFFEINE AND SUGAR, aka the STARBUCKS GRANDE SOY-NO-WATER-CHAI-TEA-LATTE to which I am majorly, irrationally, debilitatingly addicted.

So, when I kvetch DAY IN and DAY OUT here about how I CAN’T STOP drinking this ELIXIR OF LOOOOVE and ALL THAT IS GOOD FOR MOTHERS OF VERY YOUNG CHILDREN IN THIS WORLD crack — CRACK, I tell you (again) — it’s not a small deal. My psychiatrist actually wants me off this stuff. Why? Because it makes me shake for the better part of the day. It brings on the physical symptoms of my anxiety. I literally feel the anxiety coursing through my veins, even if there’s no obsessive thought connected to it.

HENCE, as per my psychiatrist, I need to GET OFF THE CHAI. Also, as per my psychiatrist, and I need to GET OFF MY BUTT. Yes. My Rascal is 19 months now, so a) we’re no longer talking about “pregnancy weight” here, b) or nursing weight, and c) that pain in my tailbone that’s SO BAD that my NEW BOSS had to switch seats with me during MY INTERVIEW because I COULDN’T TAKE THE PAIN that I get from sitting on hard surfaces for more than ten minutes or from sitting AT ALL for a prolonged period of time (speaking of which…, ouch!) HAS TO GO. Yes, I need to fix all this. I need to FEEL better. I need to HEAL from the physical and emotional pains of my pregnancies already. It’s time to move forward.

So, I’m at the gym again in the effort to move forward — to move more. And it’s amazing. AMAZING (a word I am known to overuse but that’s perfectly appropriate here). I sweat. I huffed. I puffed. I need new shoes. Anyone know a good vegan running shoe?

Yes, I’m back at the gym. But, I’m still drinking chais. BUT, as my GORJ online buddy Lindsey reminded me on Twitter yesterday, baby steps. Baby steps, baby steps, BABY STEPS!!! Anyone see that movie: What About Bob? With Bill Murray? Richard Dreyfuss? BABY STEPS!!!

LOVE! Anyway, I’ll start with the gym, and then I will definitely, finally, ditch that chai. Again.

And then, maybe, as the book I’m reading explains, I’ll figure out what’s REALLY behind that self-destructive addiction. Maybe I won’t need the chai anymore now that I’m starting to take care of my body? Maybe I won’t want it?

Basically, I’ve had an epiphany. Yes. I’m finally ready to set up some new boundaries. All my years of dieting and eating issues were filled with STRICT BOUNDARIES. When I became pregnant, and crazy, ALL those boundaries collapsed. And I’ve been living on chai tea crack, sugar, breads, peanut butter, ever since. So, it’s ALMOST time, Gorgeouses. It’s almost time time to start GRADUALLY rebuilding the boundaries. Correction: to gradually rebuild HEALTHY boundaries — working out, eating RIGHT, taking care of myself, and moderation. Moderation, baby. And baby steps.

Tomorrow — SAMBA CLASS at the gym! Weeee!

Now, go check CHEATY GOODIES for our EMERGENCY PREPAREDNESS contest. Only Canadian’s are eligible for this one, but the post and video will make everyone think.

Today was one of those you-don’t-want-to-hear-about-it, get-me-out-of-here days. Yes, I wanted OUT. I wanted cucumber slices on the eyes and a spa chair in the middle of somewhere QUIET and WARM and maybe a little BREEZY. No children allowed. Especially children who HATE THEIR STROLLERS.

Like, WTF? You should see me try to strap Rascal in his stroller. It’s quite a sight…. I lift him out of the carseat and, right away, he stiffens straight as a board. When I FINALLY get him in there, I look up, sweating, and we’re half way across the parking lot….

Anyway…. On our way home from the barn trip this weekend, Josh and I decided to take a detour through Hamilton, Ontario, where I went to school for FOUR YEARS….

McMaster University…. Laaaa!

I don’t remember a lot from those years (university years)…. But, I DO remember going HERE for my weekly treat — every Friday after class….

It was ALL about the caramel sauce…. Excuse me for a sec. Must. Gag. … … Okay, back.

And, THIS is where I lived for THREE years (I lived in residence my first year)….

I KNOWWW! Isn’t it GORJ!? And, didn’t, like, the word “GORJ” come to mind, like, right, like, when you first saw it!?

EW! I lived, studied, slept, pulled all-nighters writing English Lit and Art History essays in THAT TEEENY TINY room in the front of that UGGERS house (that looks the EXACT same as it did THIRTEEN YEARS AGO — ‘cept for the satellite dish — same blinds and everything!). See that window right beside the front door? white blinds? on the left? behind the pole? MY room. That was my room. Overlooking the busiest street in Hamilton. Ew. The next year, I lived on the other side of the house, in a BIG room on the top floor (where bedrooms SHOULD be). That top right window was mine. It was nice…. Ish. It was…ish. Just ish.

Speaking of ISH. CHECK MY DANCING COUSIN, MILES, on SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE CANADA!!! There is nothing “ISH” about him. He was PERFECTION tonight, of course. I couldn’t be prouder…. This vid is of last week’s performance (not tonight’s)….

What did you think? Is he not ADORABLE??? Do we look alike? He’s it’sgrandma’s brother’s son, so there should be a LITTLE resemblance. I actually look more like his older brother Henry, everyone says. Anyway, LOVE! Tonight he did the VIENNESE WALTZ proud. Yay Miles!!!

So, I’m still working on my detox plan. Doing some research. See, the thing about Hamilton was, it triggered something for me. It made me realize that I’ve lived a lot of my life inside my head. Sort of like this famous quote by Mark Twain:

“I’ve had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened.”

I think of those years at McMaster University as happening mostly IN MY HEAD. This is partly because I was studying English Literature INTENSELY. But, I also had a LOT of anxiety during those years. And, that anxiety made my existence there pretty dark and hopelessly overwhelming at times.

I’m writing this now because today had GREAT possibilities — like every day. But, I was in THE WORST MOOD! I was tired, and lethargic, and just BLAH. I felt like I was at the end of my rope. And, it wasn’t because I couldn’t get Rascal in his stroller (because that happens every day). No, it was purely in my head.

Cheaty was so tired she just SAT THERE and WATCHED as Rascal threw his organic alligator crackers all over the living room….

I thought about it, and I realized very quickly that THERE IS SOMETHING gnawing at me.

It’s my diet situation, AGAIN. Yeah, the little diet fairy always comes knocking when I get off track — with a hefty dose of anxiety, lethargy and THE GRUMPS.

I haven’t been eating that well, and I’m just SO TIRED of all this extra weight on me STILL. I have twenty more preggers/nursing pounds to lose. Not impossible. I’ve already lost 50 — by simply chasing after the little monkeys. But, progress has been stalled for a while now.

So, DETOX IS IN ORDER.

I’ve been researching to find the best, safest detox plan for me, and for you if you want to join me, Gorgeouses (but check it with your doc first, of course, because I am NO expert). From all my research, the most common and doable detox rule is FRUIT in the morning. I’ll get into more detail about THE CHEATY DETOX AND DIET PLAN tomorrow — because I’m still figuring it out. But, first thing’s first: TODAY (Thursday), I will have a breakfast of FRUIT. When I’m hungry. And, I will try to eat clean the rest of the day. Lunch: salad (with flaxseed oil salad dressing — will CONCOCT tasty one and post it in the KITCH latah), legumes on top. Dinner: quinoa with chickpeas, salad. EIGHT GLASSES OF WATER. There. DUNZO. Detox.

I should have a plan in place by tomorrow. I’ll keep you posted both here and in the KITCH. Wish me luck!

xo Haley-O

I wasn’t going to write tonight, but I got the urge. Maybe it’s my need to connect so I can purge the ONE-HORROR-SHOW-AFTER-ANOTHER…. Or, maybe it’s just that I’m missing my Gorgeouses. AWWWWW! Love! Or, maybe I’m just trying to escape DEXTER, which is WAY too violent for me. WAY! And, which is what Josh-O and the future bro-in-law are watching right now. I’m SORT OF watching it. I got one eye on this computer screen and one on the TV — cautious, very cautious.

These shows are NOT good for the anxiety level — says the girl who went INSANE over a hole in a NUT once upon a time and WHO SHOULD KNOW BETTER.

Anyway, here we are. It’s definitely different than as it was in the summer. It’s grey, and the clouds are heavy. But, the Fall leaves are gorj as you’d expect. Hay bales emerge out of misty acres of sienna fields…. Loverly.

‘Cept for the dead frogs.

I’ve seen numerous dead frogs on the road I’ve been walking back and forth and back and forth on to get some good exercise. I always see them — flat as a pancake, a frog-shaped pancake — JUST as I’m about to step on them, and I FLY, like, 2 feet in the air. I have to jump so high so I can CATCH MY HEART, which I feel like I’ve vomited out of my mouth. Too. Many. HORROR. Shows. NOT good.

Okay. Now, I gotta go because Dexter has officially sucked my sorry anxious arse in. Oh well.

Have a great day! And, say a prayer for me that I do NOT overeat tonight and tomorrow night. It’s the Jewish New Year — in other words MAYJAH EATING FESTS. Besides, isolated as we are in the country, food (and horror shows — True Blood, anyone? LOVE IT…Buffy fan that I am, but OMIGOD it’s RAW) are a MAYJAH source of entertainment. Although, I did go on TWO hour-long walks up and down the DEAD FROG road today. HOLLAAAAAHHHH!

xo Haley-O

This week has been INSANE for me. I can’t remember a busier week. And, SO, the minute Josh-O comes home — like, in 10 minutes — I’m going upstairs with a chai-tea latte (second of the day, thank-you-very-much, but it IS dinner), and shutting myself in my room for the night…. Or, at least until it’s time to give Rascal his bedtime feed. And, yes, you thought right: he is, indeed, SUPPOSED to be breast-free right now; but, no, weaning is SUCKING ARSE right now.

It was so easy weaning monkey. Just around her first birthday — when I had planned to stop breastfeeding — she stopped asking for it. I’d offer, and she’d take it. But, for the most part, she STOPPED ASKING, so I stopped offering, and that was it! EASY. With the Rascal, though, nothing’s easy. He’s VERY attached to me, and LOVES the two feeding times (three today, and I barely managed to escape a fourth) I give him a day. Now that I’m weaning him, HE’S BEEN ASKING FOR MORRRRE than ever. HAAAAAALP!

I guess I have to face the fact that Rascal and I aren’t on the same schedule, like Monkey and I were. He’s just not ready to wean. BUT, HE’S ONE! And, and, HE HAS TEEEEEEEEETH! I mean, what would happen if I just cut him off — like that? Won’t that give him a complex or something. But, then again, he may NEVER be ready. So, maybe it’s up to me to just tell him he’s ready and cut him off…. Cut the cord. Always cutting that cord.

Monkey. Monkey peed in her pants twice THRICE today. I’m not sure what she’s trying to tell me with that BUT IT SUCKS. It especially sucks that she peed in her pants RIGHT before our first parent-and-child/baby yoga class this afternoon, WHICH she took in the BIZARRE pair of hot-pink BLOOMERS I found at the bottom of my purse — reserved for the REMOTE chance she’d pee in her pants again. BLERRRRRRG.

I took the mommy-and-baby yoga class this afternoon because I often teach mommy-and-baby yoga classes myself. I wanted to make sure that what I was doing with the moms and babies in my own class wasn’t lacking or unusual. I thought it MIGHT be lacking because some moms come to my class expecting LO-HO-HOTS of baby yoga, and that’s not my thing. My thing is very mommy-centred. My goal is always to teach them how to practice yoga with a baby crawling around. How to practice yoga with lots of interruption. And, in some cases, how to use the weight of baby’s body as a tool (while bonding with baby, of course) in the practice. My class begins with a warm up that usually involves the baby: the mother’s either lying down or seated. Then, we do an hour of yoga with or without the baby. And, then we do baby massage, baby yoga and some songs and BUBBLES. So, it’s a well-rounded class. Something for everyone — with a HEAVY focus on yoga asanas (poses) and pranayama (breathing).

This afternoon’s class was very different from what I teach. It was PERFECT for yoginis like me. It was MOM-centred and focused on REPAIRING the body after pregnancy, and not necessarily “getting back in shape.” It focused on loosening our tight necks, opening up the back, bringing the uterus back to the spine, etc…. I loved it. And, the monkey LOVED it because the teacher gave her lots of fun poses to try.

Next week, I’m teaching in front of the owner of the mommy/baby program I teach for (she’s wonderful). I hope she likes my style, and the way I format my class. I also hope her students (who are used to her more baby- and fitness-centred yoga) enjoy it! It’ll be really nerve-wracking because it’ll be so different from what she’s used to and from what she teaches. I can only do WHAT I DO, though — which is different every class, and which is guided by my own practice, training, beliefs and intuition.

ANYWAY! I didn’t expect to talk about that! But, I guess it’s on my mind. I’m looking for more places and people to teach. Not looking ACTIVELY, really — because, sadly, I still have a lot of weight to lose to approach potential places/peeps with confidence, but, with my daily 1-hour walk (MINUS the extra chai latte, ‘course), I’m well on my way. I’m more like thinking…. Thinking about MORE teaching, thinking about a book….

I love teaching mothers. But, I’d also like to teach people who are ill, people who are anxious and/or depressed, people with special needs, and/or the elderly. The desire is coming on strong these days. And, I think I’m JUST about to seek out synagogues and churches who might be interested in my program. We’ll see….

Going to the country this weekend. And, the timing couldn’t be better!

Have a WONDERFUL weekend, Gorgeouses!

Namaste….

xo Haley-O

I’m taking the rest of the night off, Gorgeouses…. I hope these women don’t mind my sharing, but I just had two really intense phone calls. I won’t go into detail, but I spoke to two wonderful, brave women just now — one after the other — who are both going through exactly what I went through in my pregnancies: prenatal depression and anxiety (if you want to read about it, go to my “prenatal depression / anxiety” category — and feel free to laugh at me because I can fully laugh now at how COMPLETELY INSANE I was).

I could feel THE THING in their voices. I started to shake and get chills. I felt for them IN THE THICK of it, but I know they’ll be fine. I want to help them and be there for them because NOBODY ELSE CAN — aside from the doctors, nurses and psychiatrists, but even THEY can’t fully get at THE THING.

Nobody can possibly understand what it’s like to be paralyzed with FEAR while you’re pregnant. I can’t imagine much could be worse. It’s hell on earth. But, as I explained to the women, it’s a gift. They’ll be better mothers for it. They’ll learn to live with fear and uncertainty. To cope with it and accept it as the mind’s way of saying “WHAT ABOUT MEEEEE? WHAT ABOUT MEEEEE?”

GRATUITOUS ANALOGY: It’s like Minden not wanting to make room for the Rascal and showering me with wet sloppy kisses all night long (AND RIGHT NOW…excuse me, Minden!!)!

Like Minden, the mind (or “ego,” as we yogis call it) needs to make room for the baby. We just have to let it know we still love it — like, with a hot bath, a manicure, a FACIAL, healthy food, yoga, walking outside, etc..

Maybe this sounds crazy. But, I think, for people who’ve gone through what I — and these woman — have, it makes a lot of sense, and thinking this way may just help us heal.

I know, even now, as a mother of two, when I don’t take care of myself I get depressed and irritable and anxious. Those are gifts — my mind’s saying “HEYYYYY, TAKE CARE OF MEEEE!” And, making time for MOI, I’ve learned, is one of the best things I can do for me AND my kids.

Anyway. I could go on forever. There’s so much to say.

I’m so grateful my psychiatrist asked me to call these women. This is yet another wonderful thing that came out of the hell I went through in pregnancy: I can help other women through it. I can tell them they’re normal. That it’s NOT THEM. That they are not their thoughts. That their baby’s FINE and happy and thriving in its own little home, safe from their anguish. I can tell them to be grateful for the experience because it will make them better mothers, better people. I can tell them they’ll get through it and that I’m here for them. Sometimes all you need to feel better is the knowledge that YOU ARE NOT ALONE. That others have walked the same path and come out alive and happy and better for it.

I can tell them this is their initiation into motherhood….

And, I can tell them that it’s all worth it….

All of it……..

“Don’t cry over spilled milk” — my daily mantra….

Sigh…. I wish I could make them better….

HAND!!!!!

HAPPY 1st BIRTHDAY, LITTLE RASCAL! I CAN’T EVEN TELL YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU! AND, YOUR HAIRCUT IS STILL DRIVING ME CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAZY! LOVE! MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH!

Sigh. In love!

xo Haley-O

P.S.: Send some good healing vibes out to these two moms-to-be, if you think of it, Gorgeouses! They need it….

We’re actually going to Medieval Times Restaurant and Tournament THIS WEEKEND to celebrate my birthday — i.e., not tonight, my birthday — because they’re only open on weekends. Just F.Y.I.

My birthday was, erm, not the best day I’ve ever had. I swear, the little Rascal is throwing me into postpartum depression. Have you noticed that yet? Have you been HEARING THE ALARM BELLS left right and centre? I just can’t take all this not sleeping. And, last night, he was a MONSTER. Screaming his lungs out all night. And, SHE. The monkey. She tore the house apart with her shrill night-terror shrieks.

Happy Birthday to ME!

I had no sleep.

And, today, my birthday, the babysitter couldn’t make it.

Happy Birthday to ME!

And, today, my birthday, A-HOLE dude at the [cannot say where because might get ANOTHER lawyer letter -- remember that?] told me I “SHOULD SAY THANK YOU” instead of pushing him to give me a WEE bit better of a deal on [something] that I, and everyone else on the planet, think I deserve to get for FREE. Patronizing A-HOLE. Of course, when he gave me that “YOU SHOULD SAY THANK YOU” line, I thanked him alright: “thank you for the lecture,” I said, and then walked off. Nobody messes with Cheaty. Sure, I probably made an arse of myself trying to bargain for such a teeny weeny amount. But, DUDE, I’m a stay-at-home mom, and COULDN’T WE AT LEAST MEET HALF WAY?

Happy Birthday to ME!

And, today, something I’ve been working on for a VERY long time got smashed and ruined.

Happy Birthday to ME!

I cried today. On my birthday. I couldn’t stop.

But, then, Josh brought cake….

And, the monkey helped him bring it to me — singing Happy Birthday with a huge smile on her face, wearing THIS (again):

And, my heart IT MELTED. Something called a “smile?” spread across my face….

And, then Rascal bumped his head…on the floor…or something, we’re not sure.

I did do one thing for myself today, though. I bought myself a crystal bracelet. Don’t get too excited — it was one of those cheapy $6 ones…. But, for some reason, I love it…. It feels…so me….

Of course, now the Monkey wants it, and the other pretty stones I bought and placed in a beautiful seashell on my night table — I needed to prettify that little night table, so it was the perfect self-gift. Also, I’m kind of into stones right now. They’re helping me with all this postpartum healing. Amid the chaos of my day, they help me ground and clear my mind for 5 minutes here and there…. It’s a yoga thing. I’ll share them with you tomorrow….

So, not exactly the happiest birthday. But, tears are purifying. And, notwithstanding the cake, I feel a little purified. Like I got a lot out of my system. Like 34 is going to be a GOOD YEAR!

No, A GREAT YEAR!

Thanks for all the awesome birthday wishes, Gorgeouses!

Love!
xo Haley-O

CONGRATULATIONS to KRISTEN on the birth of her BABY BOY!!! 8lb 12oz, 20 inches long! GO GIRL!

Don’t forget to enter the contest over AT GOODIES!

I SORT OF told myself I wouldn’t talk about this online. But, I’ve SORT OF changed my mind. Because it’s really not THAT personal, and I’m thinking I’m not alone in my misery. So, why not put it out there. So here goes.

Poop.

I hate it. It’s RUINING MY LIFE. Every day. Revolves around. POOP. ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!

GLAM!

She just won’t do it. Won’t! She won’t poop on the toilet, and it’s driving me MENTAL. She’ll poop in her pants when she just. can’t. hold. it. in. anymore — after HOURS of grunting, of not wanting to do anything and of walking around like Daisy Duck….

…only with the back of her hand planted on her butt. Can you see it? Yeah. Uh huh.

I am NOT asking for advice because I’ve tried everything. This is both sad and maddening (in all senses of the word). It’s contributed to my “bad mood” and depression lately because our whole day revolves around poop: Monkey talking about needing to poop, or Monkey grunting because she’s trying to hold it in, or us ALL trekking up the stairs for the 40th time in one morning because she needs to go (but then won’t), or me cleaning poop off her legs, the floor, her clothes, ME. And, seriously, the poor thing….

It’s a total nightmare.

It’s a total challenge to good parenting.

…so, I do things like make restaurant-style breakfasts of homemade buckwheat pancakes with blueberry syrup for her. So she can feel extra loved…!

It’s kind of embarrassing. Not that I care what people think. But, I can’t help but think it reflects on my parenting and my inability to control and/or DE-ODORIZE my child.

So, I’ve taken away her underwear. She’s now wearing her brother’s diapers. She slept in her poopy diaper for an hour this afternoon, and then I bathed her and stuck on another diaper.

Sigh….

I went to my yoga class today, in a new studio (which was really my OLD studio, which, in turn, I abandoned when I became preggers and went insane, etc.), and it was heaven. I cried big bulbous tears. The past is behind me, I thought. I’m moving on….

In the class, I focused on me and me only, and the needs and functions of my own body. I “dropped” inside and let go. It seems to me I have a lot of letting go to do. I’m pretty sure it’s what I’m on this Earth to do right now — the poop plague as yet another challenge to that purpose…. Yes, I’m to learn to let go and, maybe ultimately, to share that letting go and inspire it. There are a LOT of knotted up peeps on this planet….

Now, six hours after that wonderful “body holiday” (as Vanda Scaravelli so perfectly described her yoga practice), I’m knotted up BEYOND with tension. I don’t know what to do or say that won’t scar her for life. But, then, I could just let it go. Put her in a diaper and let it go.

She’ll be in underwear by university.

I hope….

I’m teaching my first yoga class of the year tomorrow. Wish me luck! With stress like this, I NEED IT! But, I think, with stress like this, I’m my most empathetic and compassionate, and a better teacher for it. How’s that for a silver lining. Silver lining on a big stinky FUMY ball of monkey poop. (BRING ON THE WACKY GOOGLE HITS — yeah, I said BRING IT AWN!)

PARTY OVER AT GOODIES! We’re giving away a celebrity-child FAVOURITE that happens to be a brillers learning-to-write tool. CHECK IT! While you’re there, check all the funny silly comments! There are some HILARIOUS ones there already! Enjoy!

Welcome, Gorgeouses! WELCOME to the world of NO SLEEP. It’s right here, Baby. Right here.

And, it’s FABULOUS. Let me tell you. FABULOUS. I not only look SUPER HOTT, but I’m also SUPER PATIENT and all MOTHER-OF-THE-YEAR with my kids — especially the little Rascal with the 104° fever SOHELPMEGOD and all the wonderfully fragrant projectile barfing. LOVE!

Poor little guy….

So, I think it’s been around two weeks since I’ve had more than two consecutive hours of sleep. First it was because of the teething, and now it’s because of the teething and the “wild bug” (as Monkey frightfully calls it) he’s contracted.

And, it’s been two days of unrestrained anger.

Unrestrained anger. At the monkey (who LOVES it when Mama’s MAD, who loves MAKING Mama MAD), myself and the darn fruit flies that have invaded my house (ew!) and are freaking MATING in front of me.

Me. SWEET, earthy, verging-on-granola, yoga-teacher me? MAD MAD MAD. Blood-boiling MAD.

But, Gorgeouses, one thing yoga does — and is supposed to do when you practice regularly like moi — is make you aware of your emotions, reactions, and of what Pema Chödrön discusses at length in her writings, your shenpa (check that out, Gorgeouses, it’s fascinating).

I’m noticing anger, frustration, STRESS!

And, as yoga promises, when the problem is recognized, the solution surfaces as if magically….

And, there it was.

This afternoon, I was looking for books to sell on Amazon (because IRRITABLE MOI cannot TAKE the clutter everywhere). I was all set to sell my Secrets of the Baby Whisperer for Toddlers….

….As I was flipping through the pages to see what kind of “condition” it’s in for selling, this passage caught my eye:

When you feel your blood starting to boil, leave the room. Give yourself a time-out. Even if your child is wailing, put her into a crib or playpen to keep her safe and remove yourself for a few minutes. I often tell parents, “No child ever died of crying, but many have been scarred for life by chronically angry parents.” (p. 239)

Wow. I’d never read that passage before. And, there it was. Popped up out of nowhere exactly when I needed it. I didn’t take it anxiously as a warning that I’d better stop getting angry at THE CHILDREN THE CHILDREN! Rather, I was RELIEVED by it. I’m not the only parent out there who experiences enough anger to drive herself into her bedroom to beat the carp out of a pillow (I learned that technique for anger management in yoga teacher training. Hee! It’s awesome.)

I called two of my stay-at-home-mom besties to ask them about their “mommy anger.” They, too, find themselves getting ANGRY all the time. “It gets worse as they get older,” one of them told me….

This is a BIG THING for parents, Gorgeouses! BIG. YUGE! It’s especially big for parents who are at home all day with the children and, like me, have such little time for themselves — OR PERSONAL SPACE.

I wanted to find blogs about it. Because, I wanted to connect with other moms experiencing the same thing. And, because, Gorgeouses, IT IS SO NOT ME TO BE MAD LIKE THIS! ANGER is NOT MY MIDDLE NAME. No. My middle name’s Rachel, and I like it thankyouverymuch. NO ANGER or VOICE-RAISING FOR ME! Scary Voice will NOT usurp my own shiny happy people voice. NOoooOOOooo!

Then I realized I had a blog…. So, here it is. ANGER. We all got it. We ALL got it when things are OUTTA CONTROL (which is often when you’re on little-to-no sleep and in charge of two rambunctious toddlers).

Why does this room look different? Any guesses? NO CARPET! Carpet is GONE. I couldn’t stand it anymore…. And, now, I feel SO much better. Imagine that!?!

So, here’s a good tip for managing anger from Secrets of the Baby Whisperer for Toddlers:

Just as important as tuning in to your child’s moods is the knowledge of how you change when your child stamps her feet, says “no,” or has an out-and-out meltdown in public. I asked mothers how their bodies tell them they are about to lose it. If you don’t recognize yourself in any of the following, figure out what your physical anger cues are.

“I get hot all over.”

“I get hives.”

“I start to take it personally.”

“My heart beats faster.”

“it’s almost as if I stop breathing.”

“My chest starts heaving, and I breathe faster.”

“My palms sweat.”

“I start grinding my teeth.”

Yeah, it’s all about the recognition. The yoga…. It’s about becoming aware of what’s going on in your mind and consciously deciding to step outside it and change it.

Anger sucks. It leads to emotional eating for some of us (ahem), which, in turn, leads to depression for some of us (ahem YES YES YES lately!), to POOR ROLE MODEL for your children…. It’s all downhill. Fast.

But, I. I caught myself in the act. After two days of it. Pat on the back. I stopped myself dead in my tracks, as the roller coaster of anger was going down down down faster faster faster. Scrrreeeeeeeee.

LOOK, NO HANDS!

Stop. Breathe. Not me.

After reading that pivotal passage in The Baby Whisperer, I breathed that sigh of relief. I felt supported and at ease with myself — because it’s a common thing…. I’m not the only one. My energy lifted.

Now, when I find myself getting angry, I do this little on-the-spot meditation…. I see the anger: a red fiery ball in front of me, between the eyes. I breathe as I watch its flames wrestling, as it boils and pops; it’s like my own mini sun….

…It’s not me. I’m not it. And, then I let it go. In peace. It’s gone. I roll back my shoulders and take stock of the toddler situation. I sit down if I need to. I take a cold drink of water…. And, I’m better. I’m me again.

Gorgeouses, there’s so much anger in the world. We are one very angry species — us humans. So, here’s the thing. You and I, as yoga says, must do our part to emit peace and positivity into the world and, of course, to instill it in our children.

As individuals, moreover, we mustn’t let anger get the best of us. It’s too stressful, unproductive, unhealthy…. For we have the RIGHT, Gorgeouses, to live our lives as magically and purposefully as we all deserve, and to let our children see us for the dynamic wonderful people we truly are….

Peace in our minds. Peace in the world!

Love! xo Haley-O