Sometimes I forget that she’s still so little. At almost 5, she’s a whole 26 months older than her brother who demands so much. I go to hug her, and there he is, sandwiched between us. I kiss her good morning, and there he is, pitter-patter-pitter-patter by my side. I unravel the yoga mats, and there he is, beneath my downward dog. I pick her up from school, and there he is, holding my hand. I watched her twirl and jump and dance her little heart out on stage yesterday, and there he was, begging me for apple juice. But, she’s still my baby. Always.

She was the littlest one in her class, but she had the biggest cheeks of all, and she brung it at the show last night! And I hooted and hollered in the audience — “GO, MONKEY! WOOHOO!” — much to Josh’s embarrassment. And I was a little embarrassed (which takes a lot these days, I must say) by my own hoot-and-hollering. But, I remember my mother doing it for me when I took the stage — “GO, HALEY! WOOHOO!”

My mother was always uncharacteristically aggressive when it came to her kids (still is), even if it meant being totally embarrassing. So when I went to pick the Monkey up at the end of the night, remembering my mother, I politely pushed my way through a crowd of parents to get to the very front. Nothing stopped my mother. Nothing’s going to stop me.

And nothing stopped that show! Two shows — 3 hours long, each! By the end of the night, never mind her, I was exhausted, starving, and giddy. The Monkey, on the other hand, wanted to just go home and watch Strawberry Shortcake. I’ve got a cheaty little nighthawk on my hands. Of course, her brother wanted to watch, too.

I cried a lot yesterday. Not only because I’ve been overwhelmed with so much stuff lately, but because I was so proud, and so sad, and so exhausted (7 hours of watching other people’s kids dance will do that to you). She’s my baby. My cheaty little monkey. The Cheaty Monkey!

I guess the best thing about these dance recitals is the way they make us celebrate our kids. Our babies. Still my baby.

I love you, Monkey — so much, I’ll shout it to the world. Woohoo!

NEW NEPHEW….

I know my brother won’t want me to post a photo of his new baby boy on the blog — party pooper! So, instead, I give you this photo of the Monkey’s favourite baby doll, “Marshmallow,” lying in yet another one of her curiously concocted beds/worlds….

Congratulations, Mark and Sabrina! He’s beautiful! (9 pounds!!!)

NEW DOG….

Betty White continues to thrive in her new home with us. Having spent the first 5 months of her life in a high-rise condo, she probably didn’t get out much. You should have seen her last night, when I took her out to look at the moon. (Yes, I did.) WOAAAH….

NEW JOB….

Gorgeouses, you’re now looking at the new “Editor/Writer” at Today’s Parent.com!

I can’t even begin to tell you all the cool things I’ll be doing at Today’sParent.com — except to say that it’s so exciting. And, happily, I’ve been able to arrange it so my kids won’t feel a thing. Although, come to think of it, they’ll definitely wonder why mom’s not sleeping in to the last minute any more! And something tells me they’ll love that….

As many of you know, I’ve worked extremely hard since the Monkey was a baby. Blogging every day until recently, come hell (prenatal depression) or high water (screaming, sleepless babies), and it’s paid off. Not only am I now working at one of Canada’s most respected parenting magazines, but, I have to tell you, when I was young(er), I used to dream about writing for Chatelaine and Flare. And, would you believe? I’m working in the very same offices with them? I’ll be walking by the glitzy clothing racks on my way to my desk. How glam for a “couch writer” like me! And, I’ll actually be contributing to these magazines, as well, I’m told. All this, and I never got all the way through The Secret….

To top it all off, there’s my manager. Her name’s Hailey, too — clearly, she spells it wrong, though. She and I clicked the moment we met. But, want to hear what a big dork I am? I sat in HER chair when I went in for my interview! She’s still laughing (hysterically) about it. I’m just starting to get over the embarrassment.

I must say, motherhood has been, among other intense and amazing things, perhaps the most creative time in my life — brimming with opportunities, and with friends.

It’s a new adventure, Gorgeouses! And it starts TUESDAY.

LOVE!

xo Haley-O

P.S.: Your questions/comments have prompted me to add this wee addendum: I’ll be writing/editing online.  So, by all means, SUBSCRIBE to TodaysParent.com!

Anyone who is, or has, a mother can relate to this brilliantly hilarious poem and laugh! In honour of Mother’s Day (a bit belated, but if your Mother’s Day was anything like my mother’s day, you deserve a little more celebration, or a lot…), I bring you a poem by former US Poet Laureate, Billy Collins, “The Lanyard.” Enjoy!

I originally heard this poem in one of Michael Stone’s lectures over here. Now was the perfect time to share it. Or, erm, yesterday was, but, you know, life….

By the way, look what our artist Cathy sent me in the mail the other day, in honour of my (now-quite-ghastly-but-sighh-TEMPORARY) lack of top front tooth….

On the back of the painting, it says “ONE TOOTH WONDER”! She’s too funny and talented for her own good — I’ll have to get her back somehow….

Happy Mother’s Day!

Love!
xo Haley-O

I don’t believe in writer’s block. In fact, I believe more in the Loch Ness monster, Big Foot, the Abominable Snowman and Santa Claus (FTW!) all together than I do writer’s block. It’s a myth. A big old myth created to give writers a Romantic excuse for wasting hours staring at a screen white with nothing but a blinking cursor. I don’t believe in it.

Indeed, you see, I can’t. If I believed in writer’s block, then maybe it would happen to me. To think, after years now of writing this blog, I could experience writer’s block and lose everything — my quirky sense of humour (or so they tell me), my oomph, ma mojo — out of nowhere? Like a sea monster emerging out of the murky depths and screwing with the writer waves of my unconscious: gobble gobble hiss gobble gobble neener neener…?

I don’t think so.

Sure, I don’t blog as much as I used to. My mind is tired. VERY tired. Mothering two kids aged 2.5 and 4.5 is harrrd. (Aye, there’s the monster.) These days motherhood is so hard that I hereby give Argentina permission to cry for me.

What happened to me this past week as I sat down to my Macbook day after day, laying weary finger pads ever-so-softly on keyboard, just like my high-school typing teacher taught me to do — asdf   jkl; — was not writer’s block, but a classic case of “mother burnout” and “fustafation” (Rascal’s word for “frustration,” my favourite of all his fabulous words, next to “Podowdow,” his word for “potato”).

Yes, I’m tired. Burnt out. Needing-of-break. Disillusioned by BLOGGING. Why do I do this? Why does anyone do this?

I’ve been trying to force myself to blog at the end of these crazy “fustafating” days — in which, sayyyy, the kids are fighting non-stop, begging to the point of whining, screaming (my God, the screaming), NOT LISTENING TO ANY THING I SAY, pulling the cat’s tail, throwing stools and bowls and trains against freshly. painted. walls….. And why am I forcing myself to blog? For FAME? Sometimes I wonder. Why FAME? Why do people want it? The friends on Facebook, the Twitter followers, A-list, B-list…. What am I? Where do I fit in this community? Where have I been trying to fit in? WHY!? I… I… I….

It’s an ego thing. This social media phenomenon is DESIGNED to grow ego. It’s Starbucks CHAI LATTE CRACK for the ego. COME TO ME. READ ME. BE MY FRIEND. You LIKE me! You REALLY LIKE me! I’m KING OF THE WORLD!

I’m just not interested. I can’t be anymore. I’m not HERE for that. Seriously. I’m a mom wayyyy first. And, maybe because of the overwhelming pressures of motherhood, I don’t know, I find myself getting sucked into the social media vacuum when I finally sit down at the end of the day, selfless, and then sucked into Starbucks’ titillating, sugary wafts when I drop the kids off at school, and twitter when I get the chance, and now Facebook. One day I will write the book on SPIRITUAL social media practice. (Or, at least the blog post?) Agent…, agent…, anyone? Beuller? Is there an echo in here? *Crickets*?

Heheheh, I just said “titillating.”

There’s no such thing as writer’s block. No. There’s pressure to write — either self-, editor- or whatever-imposed.

All I know is first comes recognition. I won’t use social media to find myself. I’m just not there (not here). No one is.

A little unsolicited advice then (to myself): when this mythical monster they call “writer’s block” emerges, just remember you don’t HAVE to write today, or tomorrow. When you realize you don’t have to, it vanishes — like the ghost of your late cat that you thought you saw in your peripheral vision. And then maybe you’ll just write anyway. Like I am tonight. Because you want to.

Because you want to play with words.

Also, I’m not going to look now, but my cat is sitting on my lap staring strangely JUST above my head. I know there’s a glowing cat floating up there…. Just know it.

Sometimes there’s just too much going on, and at the end of the day, you just want to sit on your couch and numb out in front of Celebrity Apprentice (BRET MICHAELS, FTW!), be still like vegetables, lay like broccoli…. And that’s okay! It’s usually those days when you’ve eaten really really badly even though you just overfilled your pantry with health foods from The Big Carrot (which is WAY out of your way but oh-so-awesome)….

I won’t find myself there either….

In the olden days, I may have quit blogging if I couldn’t get my energy up to write for a week straight. But, my online blog buddies and truly loyal readers have taught me over the years that that’s not necessary. If I don’t write here for weeks on end it’s okay. And (though my parents would cringe if they heard me say this — hi mom!), it’s okay to be TIRED, it’s okay to be busy, burnt out, fustafated with ev-er-y-thing…. But writer’s block? Feh.

Love!

xo Haley-O

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