There we are. Jennifer Garner and me! You can read my interview and all about my Jennifer Garner experience HERE! It was a whirlwind. I haven’t had a trip like that in a long time, or maybe, like, ever? Crazy!

I left for NYC at 4:30am on Thursday morning. I got on the plane at 6:30am, but my co-traveler Emma Waverman got detained in customs and missed our flight…! It didn’t get much better for poor Emma. When she got to NYC, her car broke down on her way to meet the rest of us. She’s the one in the pretty sundress beside me….

Oh, wait! EVERYONE’s wearing a sundress but me (and tall Jennifer, who got fancy on us!). Apparently, someone didn’t get the sundress memo. But I did get the “wear heels” memo from a little voice in my head — thank goodness…! I went with black wedges and polished toenails, and I brought an extra pair of quite hideous sneakers for the rest of the day.

Anyway, I loved meeting Jennifer. She’s stunning and nice and very passionate about the charity Save the Children, which we were there to promote with my new favourite appliance company Frigidaire.

Little did I know, though, the trip was just beginning. After the event, Emma, Denise Smith from Savvymom.ca (in the grey dress on the end) and I hit the town thinking we should make the most of the few hours we had left in New York. Little did we know….

We went to Soho and walked forever in the sweltering heat to visit the famous vegan cupcake place, Baby Cakes. Shockingly, it was foodie Emma’s idea. She owed me one for trying to convince me not to be vegan that one time….

I cropped out our arms because we were both having “bad arm days” in our photos….

Such good sports they are to walk that far for vegan cupcakes! The cupcakes were pretty good. But I couldn’t really tell because I had some sort of weird laryngitis symptom that made EVERYTHING I ate taste sour for a good couple of days….

After the bakery, we went shopping. And startlingly, I was the only one who bought anything — a gorj boho-chic necklace from Free People. I don’t have a photo of it yet….

While in Soho, I took my first photo with a sleeping man (and, ooo!, there’s my necklace)!

Emma made me do it…. Hideous sneakers.

After that, we met our friends Irene Ngo from Chatelaine Magazine (in the blue dress, above), Rachelle Stark, David Riabov, and Stephanie (beside Jennifer Garner, above) and Norm from Frigidaire. We were supposed to go for dinner. But the traffic held us back, so we had to go straight to the airport. Parched, hungry and exhausted.

As we drove, the sky got DARK. People were walking the NYC streets covering their faces, the wind was so bad.

Our flight was scheduled for 8:30pm, but the weather kept getting worse, and there was no flight in sight. Eventually, we got out of there still parched and hungry (nothing was open!) and rebooked our flights for the earliest flight home the next day — 2:30pm (3:30pm for Emma, of course…).

We had no change of clothes, no makeup (gah!), toothbrushes, NOTHING. But we had each other. And we had Nobu, and we had 1am shopping at Forever 21 for fresh clothes to wear, and we had a hotel in Times Square, for the win!

Emma and I shared a hotel room, and Irene and Rachelle (above) shared another. I’m a VERY private person, and Emma and I didn’t even have a WALL on our washroom. It was more like a WINDOW WALL. But I didn’t care. Emma is a hoot. They all were. We giggled the whole trip. And I needed it….

I spent the next morning with foodies Irene and Emma. Of course, we checked out Chef Mario Batali’s Eataly. Some of us were in HEA-VEN….

Emma — she had no pants to wear! And Irene’s still wearing her blue dress from the day before…. Look! Mushrooms!

We did so much walking in our new Forever 21 clothes (I NEVER wear stripes! and Emma did finally find some pants to wear) that…

…(yeah you saw that right….) I had to get a Starbucks….

BUSTED…! Oooh! And there’s my new necklace again! Like it?

After that, we went to the airport, checked in. And, of course, Emma’s flight got delayed. We all waved goodbye to poor Emma and off we went. She left 3 hours later.

Okay, this was a lot of work, Gorgeouses! So in return for my sharing the intimate details of my fabulous trip to NYC, can you please do me one favour? Go and commit to “eat fresh.” For every person who commits to eat fresh (it’s quick!), Frigidaire will donate $1 to Save the Children Canada. Plus you get a chance to win an awesome fridge. For more about this cause and to read my Today’s Parent interview with Jennifer Garner, CHECKIT!

Stay tuned. I interview Dean McDermott, whom many of you know as Tori Spelling’s hubby, Thursday. I’m bringing the Rascal with me…. Gaaahhh!

Love!
xo Haley-O

Something’s shifting. Maybe it’s temporary, or maybe, more likely, I’m really tired.

I haven’t blogged in over a week and, by self-imposed law, I never miss a week! But it’s what I needed. Even today I feel like closing this Macbook right this second, and just being quiet. Working as an online editor means writing — a lot. And I love writing, so I don’t forget for one minute that this is, to borrow the Monkey’s favourite phrase, the job “of my dreams.” But it also means that I’m on my computer a lot.

This weekend I couldn’t stomach turning on my computer. And I think I still need one more night, at least, not to type on this keyboard, not to look at this bright screen. To read, to splash in the freezing cold lake — youch! To wear my crocs, sip a grande soy-no-water-tazo chai without guilt and despite challenge. To play soccer with the Rascal and Betty White. To practise my backwards somersaults with the Monkey in the grass. To be a mom and just celebrate that with my mom, my sister and sister-in-law at a cottage-country spa — thanks to our husbands. Happy Mother’s Day to us, indeed, and to all you Gorgeous moms out there!

I had a massage for the first time in years at the spa this weekend. The massage therapist said I was crazy tight around my forearms and shoulder blades — “Are you on the computer a lot?” Yes. Forearms.

Tomorrow I leave for yoga early. And I think I’ll wear something sparkly. I’m just so freaking malleable, so easily swayed, definitely nervous, and wracked with frustrating OCD lately. It comes around faster these days — or maybe I just notice it more. It’s tough battling this thing without medication sometimes. But I’m determined. Partly because my OCD makes me not want to pee meds into our lakes and oceans….

But the yoga helps a lot. And writing it out helps. And being open and laughing about it helps. And taking a break helps.

And so, silence. For at least a little while. So I can collect myself (again) and relax and not perform and enjoy my work and then turn it off and get some sleep and do what I do for me.

Something sparkly.

You know how I love to write? It seems I also love to take pictures. And I’ve really enjoyed loading these up here for you this evening. So here’s another story for the road — no words.

Thanks, as always, for being here.

Love!

xo Haley-O

{The Monkey taking a picture with a miniature toy ice cube.}

The fitness blog over at Todaysparent.com has been a really good thing for me personally. I’m finally reaching my long-time goal of getting fit and healthy, and losing some of the unhealthy habits I’d developed to cope with the emotional effects of my pregnancies. I’m not there yet, but it’s finally in sight. I’ve lost four pounds this week, and everything I’ve eaten on my in-between-challenges “cheat day” today, including my cherished chai latte, has tasted disgusting — I’m even feeling unpleasantly shaky and a little on the verge of crying.

Maybe it’s the cheaty chai. Or maybe it’s that blog and some of the feelings that it’s bringing up for me.

I’ve chosen a very different lifestyle than most people I know. So I’m assuming most people who read Todaysparent.com haven’t, or wouldn’t, choose it for themselves. I’ve always searched and struggled to find the “perfect” lifestyle, and I’ve never been able to find anything that feels right for me. I used to ask everyone what they ate, what they did to stay slim, and I’d read every diet book and magazine. Searching. Everything I read said something different: eat 5 meals a day; eat breakfast; don’t eat carbs; work out for 90 minutes a day; spin until you can’t feel your legs; jog; walk fast; lift weights; drink water. None of it has really spoken to me in the last few years. So none of it has worked for me (I’ve tried everything).

What speaks to me is my own body and, well…, ANCIENT STUFF.

This is why I’ve chosen daily yoga as a path. Practising my yoga, whether in the studio or at home, is one thing I know that is TRUE in my day. It’s just me, my body and my breath — and occasionally Betty White (the dog) or the Monkey, the Rascal or Minden (who loves to lick my yoga mat with his raspy tongue), or a hard kick in the head from the lithe woman in front of me who “jumps back” a little too close to my mat. And this is why I’ve chosen to eat the way I do.

I’m a very sensitive person. I get anxious if I overhear a news story or if I do the tiniest thing wrong. An anxious thought can throw me into tears or panic — especially since becoming a mother.

These days we’re just bombarded with information and interaction (online and off), and some of us can’t handle it without serious therapy. I learned that during my pregnancies, and I learn that now when I slip up and stop taking care of myself.

When Today’s Parent asked me to write a blog about my journey to weight loss I had no idea I’d really be writing about my life. MY LIFE and what exactly makes me tick.

My lifestyle choices are not mainstream. So I feel a little vulnerable talking about sauerkraut and kombu…. I almost want to cry that I’m telling a world that might not yet be open to it about sauerkraut and kombu, brown rice and shoyu. Will they shun me? Will they scoff? Will they think I’m loony?

Because I’m not. Or at least I don’t think I am. (And I know that’s not saying anything, but still.) Sure, I’m definitely definitely quirky and even a bit eccentric — I’ll give you that. But, like everyone, I’m just trying to feel good and be happy. I’m not telling anyone how to live their lives. I’m just trying to survive and be strong for my kids and to live the best way I can in a world that might otherwise knock me over.

So I don’t know how much to say right now. And I don’t know if I want to say anything anymore — just because this is all so intensely personal and different. Although I guess feeling vulnerable is a good exercise for a writer…. But I don’t know.

Maybe it’s the chai or the Rice Dream chocolate-mint-swirl frozen dessert that I just devoured to cap off “cheat day.” (Don’t worry, I’ve got brown rice and lentil miso soup bubbling on the stove….) Because I feel myself on the verge of tears again. Or maybe I need to be quiet for a bit and collect all my pieces.

I’ll figure it out. In the meantime — just — thank you for being here, for sticking around all these years and accepting me the way I am. You truly are gorgeous.

Love!
xo Haley-O

Nobody ever tells you how physically challenging parenthood is. I can’t remember the last time I really relaxed for more than ten minutes without someone asking me for something, to fulfill some urgent need.

Please don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t give up any of this for anything. Not even the adventures in public bathrooms. Precious as those adventures are, I wouldn’t give them up. Not even the half hour it takes us to get showered and dressed after swimming. I don’t EVEN care that we’re always the last ones to get out of there because, apparently, I have given birth to a nudist, and the other one insists on putting his socks on by himself — not an easy feat for a 3-year-old with wet feet.

Nobody tells you that, when you wake up to go to yoga class in the morning, the mere request for a sippy cup of water is enough send you reeling back to bed because — f*** it — life’s just too hard.

Nobody tells you how fast the time goes. Well, EVERYBODY tells you how fast the time goes — “Before you know it, they’re off to university!” I’m talking about the time that ticks in between the kids’ programs and the time that ticks when you actually have half an hour to yourself while he’s at Sportball or they’re at swimming or she’s at dance class. It ticks so fast that you barely get anywhere on time. Or maybe it’s just that winter — with its frigid cold and snow pants and hats and mittens and wet boots — is longer than ever these days.

Nobody tells you how different — how very different — life is when you have children. How awesome it is, they tell you. But they don’t tell you how tiring and how fast and how slow and how backbreaking and how selfless and how challenging despite how purposeful and rewarding and amazing and adorable and hilarious and the love….

At 5 years old, the Monkey still calls her bathing suit “babing suit.”

At 3, the Rascal (intentionally) calls potatoes “podowdows.”

She was cast as Snow White in her Theatre Program’s production of Snow White.

He is fearless in the water.

She can read now.

He can capture the universe on a single piece of green construction paper.

I woke up this morning at the sound of my alarm (gong gong gong) — dreading leaving the house for the first of many times today — and sat up. My heart swelled as I looked down at my bed and my two dosing, beautiful children. And I thought to myself, “How ever did I sleep in such little space?”

Parenthood is Awesome. And I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything. Not even the butt wiping, the night waking, the order barking, the pee flying, the not listening, the screaming in my ear, the clothes tugging, the waiting, and waiting, the pushing, the pulling, the racing, the whining, the kvetching, the going, the going, the going, the going.

I had to go outside to grab my Macbook out of my car so I could write all this down. At first I was pissed that I had to trudge outside in the freezing cold again — to squeeze my puffy body between car and garage door, and dirty this psychedelic green hoodie that’s making me feel pretty. But then I looked up, and I saw the stars. And I felt peaceful and still and whole and some other amazing feeling that may vanish if I attempt to mold it into words. So I won’t.

I don’t want to do another thing today anyway. But the kids have been bathed and they want dessert.

Strawberries tonight.

Love….

xo Haley-O

I’m trying to write this blog post right now, but my husband’s going on and on about The Bachelor. He’s loves it (even if he won’t admit it). And he has more to say about it than I do. So I think he should start his own blog. In the meantime….

The Rascal thinks we own the cottage.

He refuses to accept that we’ve been going to my parents’ cottage all this time. But I guess it doesn’t matter. Especially since he’s been decorating….

It’s the solar system. But I didn’t need to tell you that. He taped it onto my parents’ his fridge himself!

…Right after his sister climbed onto a stool and taped her own masterpiece to her grandparents’ fridge. And when I say masterpiece, I mean masterpiece. Gorgeouses, we have a real artist on our hands (click to enlarge)!

Which one is your favourite? For me it’s a tie between the 6th in from the left and the 2nd in from the right (with the, you know, the hair!).

And the fridge isn’t the only thing she’s been decorating. She decorates EVERYTHING. THE WORLD IS HER CANVAS. My little Picasso is always at work creating worlds and decorating, umm, my stuff….

And her little brother’s one of her biggest fans….

Yes, there’s a lot of cuteness around here. But also a lot of tiredness. My little artists’ young minds — brimming with so many ideas, art, GENIUS — continue to create through the night. HAVOC.

I’m exhausted.

But they’ve promised not to wake me up tonight. And they’ll never keep it.

I’m really run down, Gorgeouses. And I’m hoping that returning to yoga tomorrow — after a long, forbidden holiday — and committing to my daily practice again no matter how little sleep I’m on, no matter how much I’m working, and no matter how cute and cozy my kids look in the morning, will help rejuvenate me. Tired.

Yoga is another thing on the long list of things I SHOULD do every day. But it’s also something I can count on. Something consistent and predictable and unchanging (for the most part) and just for me.

No decorations.

Just me.

Sleep?

Love!

xo Haley-O

OH! And check out how I’m doing on my fitness journey HERE!

Actually this blog is far from “regularly scheduled.” I write when the mood moves me. But this month has been certifiably insane. And I find myself. Depressed.

I’ll feel better tomorrow or the day after. It’s just hard. Between work and constantly-screaming children, I can’t relax. My body and mind are screaming over the children, “YOU NEED A BREAK! YOU NEED TO SLEEP! YOU NEED TO…PLAY AND I DON’T MEAN LEGO! You need a facial, massage, a vacation.” Somewhere warm like a deserted island. I can lie on a hammock and let the ocean rock me back and forth and back and forth and back and….

Right now the closest thing I have to a vacation is this….

She doesn’t demand much, our Betty White. Only to be let outside approximately every 6½ minutes, or any time I shift positions when I’m working on the couch. She owns it. Our backyard is her territory. She has balls and bones and probably old cat poop buried deep beneath the ground. Every 12½ minutes I let her in and wipe the black of digging off her face. Her beard.

I’d love to feel as joyful as Betty White. I watch her out my window. She scurries here and there and then just stops. Still. Listens. Espies. Stomps. Sees me. Comes running. Expects. Cookie.

She’s not the only one who loves the outdoors around here — especially when it’s snowing and below zero….

Snow angels! He can’t get enough of the snow. Which is totally how it should be when you’re 3 years old. Even as I watch his red little nose turn to purple and scrunch with the glee, I can’t even imagine.

Don’t worry, Gorgeouses. I’ll snap out of this. I get depressed. I don’t hide it well. This doesn’t mean I need to talk about it or go get help. Sometimes, in my case, depression’s okay. I’m like a big bear in the winter. I just want to cozy up on my favourite spot on the couch and be warm and still and…not tweet much.

It just so happens that all the beings I’m wholly responsible for 24/7 are the farthest thing from big bears in the winter. They’re more like those flippy little birds that stick around instead of flying south — the ones Betty White chases every 6½ minutes in the backyard. WHY NOT FLY TO FLORIDA? So I’m tired. And craving. A vacation. An island. A hammock. A good night’s sleep.

Good night, Gorgeouses.

Love!

xo Haley-O

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 have absolutely no idea what I’m going to write here, as I sit down to this empty screen, eyes half closed, the monkey still up watching “Star Party” — aka the Dancing with the Stars finale.

Team Grey!

I just popped an oat-bran bagel in the toaster oven — probably my last for a long time as I embark on, yes, another diet. Well, not really a diet, more like a way of life. It worked this morning when I enjoyed my oatmeal-and-almond-milk-with-syrup-raisins-walnuts-and-cinnamon breakfast and the resulting stable moods and unexhausted energy level for hours.

“You’re very quiet today,” my co-worker remarked as she passed by my desk this morning. It’s because I didn’t have that blasted morning Starbucks soy-no-water-tazo-chai latté that makes me bounce off the walls every morning. “You really know how to have a drink,” the barista told me the other day as my dreaded order rolled off my tongue dreamily, effortlessly. “I know,” I said, drooling and shaking. “I know.” Gimmemychai….

But this afternoon was a big fat FAIL when the Rascal BEGGED to go to a bookstore — with a Starbucks in it. Danger! DANGER! BEEEP! BEEEP! Moods plummeted. Patience erupted. I believe I may have even roared at one point when I noticed the dishes in the dishwasher were clean. Don’t worry, the kids were out of earshot….

Betty White (the dog) is looking at me with a “what’s wrong with you?” look on her face. I think it’s because I’m not only watching Skating with the Stars, but I’m PVR’ing it, too. And one of the judges actually just said, “you have a spiffy personality.” That same judge’s name is Dick Button. And, woah, it’s time to announce each judge’s score, and the host(ess) calls his name out unnaturally seriously: “Dick. Button.” Josh just asked me if this show is a “spoof.” No. Not a spoof.

I was also quiet at the office today because my beautiful MARRRGE is very sick.

The fact that she only weighs six pounds, and is losing weight as I type this, has nothing to do with Betty White, as I, in denial, suspected, and everything to do with something called hyperthyroidism. Apparently it’s very common in cats. But I WILL NOT send her to that radiation centre they recommended — where people in full radiation garb and Darth Vader masks give her food and scoop her poop for a whole week and just maybe pet her wee head with giant gloves. She’s almost 15 years old. That would KILL HER. Plus, I keep thinking of that guy who died on 24 of radiation poisoning while trying to save the world. Awful. And do I really want a potentially radioactive cat in my home? She’s creepy enough already.

I just have to keep her comfortable and happy. I don’t need to cure her with anything that glows in the dark and requires total isolation and (did I mention?) serious money, and the Darth Vader masks. Thankfully, I managed to find a less freaky therapy that’s a little high maintenance, but relatively comfortable for MARRRGE (3 R’s) and affordable.

Now, I’m going to send you off with something funny…. Maybe you had to be there to find this funny, but I’ll go for it anyway.

As you may know, the Rascal has a favourite stuffed animal that he calls Doggy. There’s the background.

So this morning the Monkey was brushing her hair (“it’s gold now, Mama!) and marveling at the freshly-brushed softness. “TOUCH IT TOUCH IT IT’S SO SOFT TOUCH IT!” she insisted. When she got to the Rascal, she bent her head down and said:

“TOUCH IT. JUST TOUCH IT! Touch it and you’ll forget about Doggy!”

O.M.G. funny!?! I think it’s brilliant. You had to be there?

If it’s not funny, it’s a lesson for shampoo advertisers everywhere:

“Hair so soft you’ll forget about your binky….” Do you love it? You heard it here first, Gorgeouses! Hee!

NO, Josh, this is not a fake show. Skating with the Stars is, sadly, FOR REAL!

One more thing before I go to bed. I’ve been writing nonstop articles over at Todaysparent.com — hence the shortage of posts here. It’s been crazy! Also, be sure to look out for my two-page personal (“humour”) article in the January issue of Today’s Parent Magazine! Eek!

Love!

xo Haley-O

One problem with blogging is that people think they know you — I mean, the whole you — based on the posts you write. It’s happened before that people have made assumptions about me based on this blog. And while I now have no problem with that, it’s still not the whole truth. It’s all true, of course, yes! But you’ll never get the whole truth from twice-weekly, or even daily, blog posts. Or even seeing someone in real life, for that matter. People are sort of different every time you see them, don’t you think? I may dislike someone one day and LOVE them the next. Everything’s fragments.

And still you come back here and you read, I guess, the truth of this moment. And how much do I love you for that? Because it does get lonely behind this screen sometimes.

So today I give you A BUNCH of truth fragments in one post, and then maybe I can take the rest of the week off because I am tired. That’s probably the whole truth right there. If you see me in real life, go right ahead and assume I AM TIRED.

Checkit!

1. At the end of my much-interrupted 6am yoga practice this morning, I lay down in savasana (or corpse pose), and Rascal stood over me and asked, “Mama, are you dead?”

2. He also asked if he could lie on my back while I was in a seated forward bend — nose to knees. I let him, of course. And he’s a feather. I felt nothing.

3. The Monkey is obsessed with Netflix’s preview of The Swan Princess, which is basically this song….

I’m telling you, plunk your kids down in front of that video, show them how to make it play again, and go make dinner, or read a novel (the whole thing), shave your legs…. You deserve a break.

4. Rascal says “rorot” instead of “forgot.” And he says it a lot — reminding me never-too-often of him….

Rrrrroobydoobydoo!

5. He also calls my Macbook a “puter” (pronounced “pewdah.”)

6. Because 2 cats and a dog aren’t enough, we’ve adopted a new member of the family. Meet “Pixie Hollow”:

7. I may only be blogging here once or twice a week, but I’m blogging over HERE up to FOUR TIMES A DAY, sometimes even in a British accent.

8. I only APPEAR outgoing. I’m very very shy and uncomfortable at blogging events……

9. The Monkey’s been obsessed with drawing hair lately…. (Click to enlarge.)

10. Speaking of hair…, the Rascal wants his hair cut. But I say “no,” because there’s nothing like 3-year-old bed head. There just isn’t….

11. Betty White is apparently a very long dog. This jacket is size MEDIUM. She’s a tiny dog — there’s no way I’m getting her a large….

12. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. He…completes me….

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