RASCAL’S BIG BOY FURNITURE ARRIVED TODAY!

Isn’t it SWEET? Do you like the stripes? The BLUE walls?

We’ve had so many changes in the past few weeks that I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s all a little too much, especially for me, since I don’t do change very well, which is exactly why the universe keeps throwing it at me (lose a tooth much?) — well, the universe and MY HUSBAND, who is now, by the way, officially, a WORK-AT-HOME DAD (WOHD, FTW).

And, no, you didn’t miss that blog post. I didn’t write about how Josh-O was out of work for, ohhh, three months, or about how we did our share of flipping out. But it was all worth it because, now, he’s HOME. And he’s happy. And he REALLY wants a dog. Hurray! We’re working FEVERISHLY to rescue a dog. But the shelters, fortunately and unfortunately, don’t love giving dogs to families with young children. But that’s another story — except to say that we just got APPROVED by a Mississauga dog shelter! (Go Mississauga! Shout-out!) Hurray!

While Josh was gainfully unemployed, he annoyed the heck out of me by turning the house upside down with changes: spring cleaning, re-painting the entire house, putting up desperately-needed blinds (who knew?), throwing out my beloved winter boots, alas, and selling Rascal’s baby furniture…. It was all so awful. But I love the end result. Check the kids’ rooms….

So fresh, huh? And so CLICHÉ, I know…. The Monkey, of course, wanted pink, and the Rascal blue…. Who was I to argue? I think it’s beautiful.

Sniff. Rascal’s been sleeping in our bed for the past two weeks because we — geniuses that we are — sold his crib AND THEN went looking for a bed. Believe it or not, I’ll actually miss sleeping with him because he’s the best cuddler in the world. Certainly better than this skinny little rugrat, MAAARRRGE!

(That Marge’s ear is perfectly positioned RIGHT in front of the now heinous GREAT GAP — the gumline of which is receding to frightening heights — is no accident, I assure you! But we’ll not get into that right now. Not while I have this fancy spring in my fingertips! Heh.)

Rascal was, of course, SO excited to get his new big-boy bed that he got right into his lion outfit….

RAWR! Of course, SOMEONE, was not impressed….

At all. But WHAT A LOWER LIP, eh? Isn’t it fabulous?

Not fabulous, however (other than this segue, bygones), was bedtime. It started off great, with the requisite bedtime jumping party….

…and the obligatory back-of-the-head blog photo….

But, the minute the light was turned off, Rascal started screaming. And my heart’s been pounding out of my chest ever since — of course, tonight’s episode, OMG, of Survivor didn’t help. I lay down with him for a few minutes to calm him down. Way too smart for his own little good, though, he climbed completely on top of me so I couldn’t leave without waking him up.

But I left. I rolled out from under him, told him I’d be back in TEN, and I left. And he screamed, as he always does when he doesn’t get his way. And he cried great bulbous tears, as only he can when he doesn’t get his way. But I did it. I left. Heart aching, pounding with mother anxiety. And, in no more than two minutes, all was quiet. Except for my heart, Jeff Probst, and a very impressed purring kitty with a fabulous lower lip.

Love!

xo Haley-O

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

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When I was around eleven years old, my parents took my brother, sister and me on a boating excursion. We stayed on a big houseboat. My sister and I slept head-to-foot in a narrow bottom bunk bed, my brother got the top bunk, and we all ate and drank out of red-and-white plastic dishes. My dad wore a sailor’s hat, and my mom wore light, large-rimmed glasses and barrettes in her hair. We were the picture of leisure.

Until we got back on land. The parking lot a bed of stones. Ripe for throwing. At my sister. In the stomach. Or so my brother said. Bad aim. MY MOUTH. MY TOP RIGHT FRONT CENTRE TOOTH. Broken. Badly.

My brother got his allowance taken away, and he lost his TV privileges for a week. I, on the other hand, got a bonding on my tooth, years of tooth anxiety (since that bonding kept spontaneously breaking off at, of course, the most inopportune times), AND 10+ root canals and other surgeries — I stopped counting after the 10th, but trust me when I tell you I know every endodontist in Toronto. It was what my brother likes to call, “the gift that keeps on giving.” So not fair.

Two days ago, I learned that the gift will give no more. ALAS, I am losing my FRONT TOOTH.

It’s going to be a lo-ho-hong process. Within the next month, after many, MANY consultations, I’ll have my front tooth knocked out, bone surgery and gum surgery to make this thing perfect. In the end, I’ll have a permanent implant put in, which will apparently be GORJ. But, again, it’s a long process. While my gums and bone heal and prepare for the implant for nine months — ARE YOU READY FOR THIS (if you haven’t already heard me exploding about it all over twitter)? — I will be wearing what I’ve heard called a “flap,” “flipper,” or DENTURE in place of the tooth. This wouldn’t be so bad…, IF ONLY I DIDN’T HAVE TO TAKE IT OUT AT NIGHT!

And, of course, I’m going to the BlogHer conference in August, sharing a room with other bloggers…. I better not drink ANYTHING. Because if my toothless grin ends up on the internets I don’t know what I’ll do.

A-ny-way.

That was Tuesday. The weirdest day of my life. That same day, I got a gap in my front yard to match the impending one in my mouth — the universe, like all my friends online and off, poking fun at me. (I was way late getting my camera out.) WEIRD….

That same day, I took the Monkey and Rascal to the YoGabbaGabba show at the Elgin Theatre (with EMMA, Sandra “MAMALOOPER” and their adorable kids). And YoGabbaGabba is, like, a trip on TV, let alone LIVE. WEIRD….

I played FREEZE with Chris Murphy from the band SLOAN. WEIRD….

From YoGabbaGabba, I learned Rascal has a new dance move: the stripper hands-slicking-the-hair-back move. Here are the hands on their way down. WEIRD….

After YoGabbaGabba, Emma, Sandra and I bravely walked all five kids to Terroni. Trust me, WEIRD….

…and they were all CRAZY. BIG PROPS to the staff at the Terroni on Queen. After Terroni, we were all zonked. I schlepped the kids four blocks from the restaurant, through the EATON CENTRE, back to our car….

And, when I got back to the car, I found the perfect evidence of the unspeakable kid craziness that transpired at Terroni. A dirty fork — IN MY PURSE. WEIRD….

That night, as Josh and I relaxed in front of the TV and our respective drugs of choice — him Facebook, me Twitter — someone started BANGING on our front door. We both shot up, looked outside, and saw someone run away. I ran to the door, and Josh said “NO,” then ran downstairs, and came back with a BAT, a police flashlight, and a hat. He was a man on a mission. He opened the front door, saw everything looked okay, said, “LOCK THE DOOR,” and stomped after the runaway. I waited nervously by the window, Macbook in hand. I was frozen, though. Shockingly unable to tweet until he was home safe.

Turns out a bunch of teenagers were egging the street. We’re lucky all we got was a loud knock on the door. Apparently, the boys FLED when they saw Josh-O stomping after them with flashlight and bat in hand. Scary dude.

WEIRD!

Tooth out!!!

Love!

xo Haley-O

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It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t voluntary. It was awesome. It was a Computer Fast that no one could have anticipated. It was the computer fast that changed. my. life.

HA! It wasn’t THAT exciting.

(By the way, I’m too tired to be blogging right now. Because this day was MADNESS, I tell you, MADNESS! I’m still getting used to Rascal not napping anymore. ALAS! But, it’s been, like, way too long since my last post, so here we are — trying to string coherent sentences together. Bear with!)

But, I AM sitting here today typing away on a brand SPANKING new 13″ Macbook — fumbling a little with the new key placement and too-long nails — all thanks to my generous husband.

Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Thank you, Josh. IT IS a wonderful Hanukkah gift. Something that was SO much needed. Gorgeouses, you couldn’t have known, my last macbook was giving me mini heart attacks all the time because it didn’t have enough memory or megs for me and kept freezing and took HOURS AND HOURS to load any little thing. I’ve got chills just THINKING about all the time and frustration this new computer is going to save me. No wonder I’ve been having anxiety lately.

Actually….

It was the COMPUTER FAST that taught me SO MUCH about a major TRIGGER of my seasonal anxiety. See, the colder the weather, the more one SITS on one’s ARSE surfing the internet.

While the Mac people feverishly worked to transfer the data from my old computer to the new one, I re-laaaaxed, I watched TV (like, ACTUALLY watched it), I read yoga books and my novel, I FELT NAKED — unable to reach over and grab the computer to answer my latest question. I have millions of questions every second, and, whom do I turn to for answers? THE INTERNET. Always THE INTERNET — all the people, information, connection. It’s addictive. Like a grande soy no-water tazo chai….

And, imagine — as the psychic at the bookstore told me the other day — I have ALL the answers already. Everything I need…. How true. And it took a COMPUTER FAST to really show me that.

A great Hanukkah gift, indeed.

Speaking of Hanukkah gifts, check my Canada Moms Blog Post “Beyond Gift-Giving: Hanukkah the Green.” I’ve been very contemplative lately. In a good way. Time actually slows when you close the computer and turn inside.

Umm. So. Josh-O went to Vegas last weekend for a bachelor party and to play the World Series of Poker Tournament. We’ll not talk about the WEEKEND-FROM-HELL I had flying solo with a sick Rascal and an (almost) FOUR-YEAR-OLD. Sigh, yes, I’m learning about the terrible fours. But we’ll discuss another day — because today we’re all about Josh.

Josh, whom I had to BEG to let me take a picture of THE EYE until he finally gave in just so I’d SHUT IT (not the eye…, my mouth).

Yes, somebody had one too many drinks on an empty stomach and spent the first night there praying to the GOD OF PORCELAIN and, apparently, popped a blood vessel in his eye…, or a thousand. Check it (but, BE WARNED — is graphic!)….

AAAAAAACK! GAAAHHHHHH! EEEEEEEEEEK! Can you STAND to look at that? The first time he showed it to me, I almost ran to the washroom and popped a blood vessel. It is soooo disgusting.

I told him to go get an eye patch, but he’s decided to wear his shades EVERYWHERE — including to business meetings. Heh….

Can you see the poker tables in his eyes…? Ugh!

…Much better (although our living-room pillows are, indeed, complete eye-sores….)

Anyway, he played the entire first day of the World Series Poker tournament with some pretty well-known poker dudes. Anyone know Greg Mueller? And he managed to get us some PHO-TOS. 

The p-p-p-poker table….

His room (which was one among many)….

Crazy, huh?

Needless to say, as soon as Josh busted out, the paramedics sent him to the hospital, and he was released with a “we see this all the time, no big deal.” The Canada customs officer said the same thing the next day….

And, since this post is supposed to be all about Josh-O, I give you this final picture….

Tigger in the sun…with my croc. Isn’t it precious? And, I’ll have you know, I got clocked in the head by the kitchen cabinet to get this picture. And, see, that’s dedication. DEDICATION, baby.

Speaking of crocs…, should I bring my crocs to BlogHer? Did you catch that, by the way? BLOGHER? I’M GOING TO BLOGHER: BlogHer ’09: In Real Life. Oh yeeeeeah…! It’s in Chicago. Just booked my flight. My lovely peeps at bTrendie are sending me….

Weeeeeeee! Cannot WAIT! And, I promise to share ALL with you, of course!

LOVE!
xo Haley-O