It’s been very hard to find time to blog lately. I’m THAT busy. I’m also THAT tired because I’ve been working on a big project for CottageCountry.com. I’ve been staying up pretty much until Rascal wakes up every morning — 2am, which is also, apparently, the time the fun begins…. Between the tiredness and the busy-ness (I’ve got to get back to work, like, NOW, or it’ll be a 3am night, which may conflict with someone else’s li’l schedule), I’m gonna make this quick. I give you, Gorgeouses, a rundown of what’s been going on at the very busy Cheaty house (aside from the Project) — check it:

1. I’ve been planting. Spinach! I’m a bit of a loser, though, because I planted it two days ago and thought I saw spinach sprouting just today — alas, it was WEEDS. #duhh. Let’s be realistic here for a minute: the day spinach grows in my backyard, as a result of my square thumbs (did you know Megan Fox uses hand doubles in her films because she, too, has square thumbs, or “toe thumbs,” or whatever — but I say OWN IT, Megan!), is the day I quit Starbucks. There. #nothappening.

This photo was taken by THE MONKEY! Love!

2. We are spring cleaning. MAJOR spring cleaning….

3. Minden’s licking my yoga mat again. See?

What’s up with that? It’s totally clean. I never use that one. (Then again, this is the same cat who eats onions and spinach when nobody’s looking.) I put it out earlier because Rascal wanted to do Sun Salutations, complete with loud ujjayi breathing…. You should hear this guy do yoga. If I blindfolded you and led you into our living room during one of his sessions, you’d think you’d walked in on the great Iyengar himself….

There’s nothing like yoga in pajamas….

Can I have my mat back, now?

4. Josh threw out my boots. He literally smuggled them out of the house when he went to do an errand and threw them in a donation box. MY BOOTS. MINE. He hated them THAT MUCH, and he knows that I’m the type who wears winter boots well into May. I can’t for the life of me find a picture of them. They were black nylon “Elements” boots. This is the closest photo I could find of what they looked like….

Wahhh. Miss…!

7. This should be a post in itself, but I may not get around to another one ’til Thursday, so check it. Rascal, as you know, likes to start words he can’t pronounce with “f.” This has become increasingly hilarious, and, at times, problematic. Check it:

a) F*CK: truck;

b) FACKET: jacket (which, if said aloud, can be rather offensive in two ways);

c) FUSTIFATED: frustrated, as in “Mama, are you FUSTIFATED?” (*cough*);

d) FIFFY: filthy….

Rascal also likes to start “L” words with “Y”:

a) “Mama, I wan pay Sixth and Yadders“: Mama, I want to play Snakes and Ladders.

b) “Yook! Mama, YOOK!”: Look, Mama, LOOK!

c) “Mama, you yips smell yike YEMEN!”: Mama, your lips smell like LEMON.

Okay! Gotta go. This post took me way yonger than I fought it would…. And the cat’s giving me the stink eye….

Yuv!

xo Haley-O

P.S.: Check out the awesome promo this month at GOODIES – 20% off totally hot organic clothes for kids from www.minimioche.com!

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

P.S.: THERE’S A GIVEAWAY AT CHEATY GOODIES. My fave online/offline store and spa PURE + SIMPLE IS BACK! Check it. And enter! Their stuff is the BEST.

To sleep, perchance to dream — ay, there’s the rub….
Hamlet (III, i, 64)

Four days ago I was all set to write the post we’ve all been waiting for (you know you’ve been waiting for this, at the edge of your seat, yahhuh!) — the post IN WHICH I announce that a certain two-and-a-half-year-old is finally sleeping through the night. I was all ready to get my HOLLAHHHHHs and everything. But, then, this revelation came about, and I just had to write about it, and then, ummmmmmmmm, the certain two-and-a-half-year-old stopped sleeping through the night, and has practically stopped sleeping altogether.

“MOMMY, MOOOOOMMMMMY! I. NEED. YOU.”

How can you resist “I. NEED. YOU” in the wee hours of the morning? Actually, it’s more like, “I. NEED. HYOU.” How do I resist that? Do I want to resist it when, 10 years from now, I know I’ll be bribing him for a wee cuddle? Because, frankly, I missed the little guy last week when he slept from 7:30pm to 7:30am for a whole 3 days straight. He even played in his crib when he woke up, telling his stuffed animals to, “Wait yo turn!” He was all proud of himself for sleeping through the night, too: “Mama, you powda me?” I totally thought we had it in the bag. But, no. As the Rascal would say, “Not really.” Actually, it’s more like, “Not reeee-eey.”

But, now that he’s back to NOT sleeping through the night, I miss when he WAS sleeping through the night. Especially since my bed is extra packed these days because my parents are away in California. Yes. It’s their fault. Because now, not only is Rascal in my bed, but also

and

Minden, MAARGE (looking très creepy up there), and my parents’ dog Olivia — or, as the Monkey likes to call her, “Yulivia” (we refuse to correct this), and, as the Rascal likes to call her, “Yayvah Yayvah Yayvah” (we refuse to correct this). Olivia’s deaf. All of them and THE RASCAL (never mind Josh…) aggressively vie for my slumberous attention throughout the night…. Actually they’re vying for my attention all the time — right at this very moment as a matter of fact. Minden is purring on top of me, and I can hardly see the computer screen. Have I made any typos?

Sighh…. TIRED. Sleep well, ye Gorgeouses…!

Love!

xo Haley-O

It doesn’t take much to make me anxious — like a lot of mothers I know, actually! And one of my techniques for easing anxiety is to practice being thankful. This works because being thankful brings you back from the projected future (the anxiety) to the present, the here and now. It totally works. Anyway, checkit!

RASCAL: Evvybody luff me, Mama?

ME: Yes, Rascal! Everybody loves you!

Now, go on over to my latest post at Canada Moms Blog, and see what else I’m thankful for. Hint: it rhymes with “Shmeal Shmousewives.” But, first, DO TELL: what are you thankful for today?

Love!

xo Haley-O

I can do this.

I just drank a mug of vegan hot cocoa out of my “Heaven-Knows-It’s-Surely-True-That-Mothers-Need-a-Time-Out-Too” mug. Watching a little TMZ. Which may come as a surprise to some of you because, of course, I only watch CLASSY TV shows, like The Bachelor (did you see this season’s premier OMG — even *I* was embarrassed, it was so embarrassing), and my latest favourite, The Real Housewives of, well, all of them — Atlanta, Orange County, New York (in no particular order). NENE!!!

I love NeNe — partly because she hates brilliantly on a certain someone (KIM) whom I can’t stand because she smokes in her house, in her children’s faces.

I can TOTALLY understand if people can’t quit smoking — it took me YEARS to quit chai lattes (I’m still not out of the woods, but let’s pretend). But, I CAN’T understand knowingly exposing your young children to secondhand smoke. Seriously, WTF!? Who DOES that? Does anyone DO that? Anyway, don’t get me started on KIM. Where were we? Oh yes, LOVE NENE. But doesn’t EVERYONE?

I actually liked Anderson Cooper better when he was the host of The Mole — partly because I only watch classy TV, and not CNN. I prefer TMZ….

Where was I? Oh yes. I can do this.

I can write a blog post tonight, and I can get a good few hours of work done (egad) EVEN though I’m exhausted. Yes, exhausted. But, not whiny “WOE IS ME, MY KIDS DON’T SLEEP” exhausted. More like “DAY 15 OF JILLIAN MICHAELS’ HELL VIDEO,” as I like to call it. Level 2, baby. My feet are starting to hurt….

No, seriously, my feet are really hurting. Well, foot. It’s throbbing as we speak, Gorgeouses. I’m sure a good night’s sleep will help (but, ALAS, my kids still aren’t sleeping — WOE! is me). Yoga helps.

Oh GOD. I’m watching GLEE now, and Matthew Morrison is singing Bust A Move. OH! He’s dancing! And now he’s singing the THONG SONG — MOVE OVAH, Justin Timberlake. I’m telling you! And I am telling you!

In conclusion, I am in love with

Matthew Morrison….

and

Harvey Levin….

“I’m a lawyer!”

By the way, I’m also exhausted because the Monkey has a new imaginary friend, “Julia,” and Julia’s sleeping over tonight. Also, the Rascal’s been saying “f*ck” all the time, over and over again. Also, according to the Rascal’s nursery school “Feeling Table,” the words he likes to use are “hard” and “soft.” He needs to build on others, like “bumpy, scratchy, etc.”

LOVE! xo Haley-O

At 2 years and 2 months old, the Rascal is starting to really talk. Sometimes I think I need some sort of translator contraption like the one in the movie Up….

…but for 2-year-old humans. For the most part, though, I’m understanding him — and I’m LOVING the way he bravely conquers each word.

Like “Pickadoe.”

“Pickadoe,” we’ve discovered, is Rascal’s word for “PEEK-A-BOO.” It took me a while to figure this one out, in particular, because he tends to say it without the traditional hand gesture….

PICKADOE!

In addition to our entertaining advancements in language, we are very, VERY affectionate, especially with our MAMA. This kid will not go to bed without, I KID YOU NOT, 20 kisses between the crib bars. For about five or so minutes after I put him in his crib, I have to crouch down to his level, stick my face between the crib bars, and repeatedly meet THIS usually wet, sometimes-snotty, always-adorable pucker:

These are but two of the many awesome Rascalisms I am CHERISHING and want to remember always — he’s growing so freaking fast!

I also want to remember these crazy elaborate beds The Monkey’s been making for her new doll “Marshmallow”….

Yes, she’s given Marshmallow ALL her toys to sleep with. That’s one lucky doll…. (And one unlucky MAMA will eventually be cleaning all this up.)

In related news, Minden’s breath is as bad as ever. Here:

Whew! Oh, what’s that? You missed it? Here:

Oh, EXCUUUUSE ME! Apparently, Minden’s not amused….

PICKADOE!

xo Haley-O

The Monkey got a new colouring book at Starbucks this morning (do NOT ask me what I was drinking there — especially because you ALL know what it was, and you ALL know my shame).

As with ALL Starbucks products, it was stupid pricey, but so awesome, and I was determined to keep the kids busy so I could maybe finish reading the 300 pages I have left of my monthly book club book in time for our meeting Wednesday — my ONE PERSONAL GOAL IN LIFE at this very busy time being that I read the book-club book in time for the meeting…, for Wednesday. GAH! Why did DENGUY have to pick the longest book EVER for this month’s read? Good thing the book is AH-MAY-ZING.

As I was saying, the Monkey’s new colouring book is awesome — especially for a kid who really is a natural artist. I mean, ALL kids are natural artists, but she’s a little more artsy, more “artistically mature” than others. She’s not one to kick a ball or master the monkey bars (despite her internet name), but the girl can DRAW.

That said, I was a little surprised at how she tackled the book’s prompt to “make a strawberry cake”:

She coloured the whole thing black, as you can see. And added, erm, a strawberry.

Closeup on the strawberry….

I have no words for this strawberry. Well, I do. Have words. But, they don’t need to be said. Do they.

She fared a little better with the, erm, cherry pie….

I love all the delicate details — her trademark. They always make me go “hmmm…,” and “wow”….

I never finished the 300 pages of my book. I was too busy laughing at strawberries. But, we all had a great time together, and there are two more days ’til Wednesday.

I’m a bit of an anxious basket case lately. I kind of always am when fall turns to winter, and the smells of the shifting seasons — damp leaves, home cooking, smoke from neighborhood fireplaces — emerge full force, subtly bringing me back to the dark, prenatal depressions of my pregnancies. And it’s togetherness that’s getting me by. Nightly “CUDDAH”s (cuddles) with the Rascal, reading fairy books in a fairy nook with the Monkey, playing a family game of Hungry Hippos on a Sunday afternoon….

Monkey’s favourite doll played the yellow hippo while I captured the moment…. For some unknown reason, she’s named the doll “Marshmallow”…

Again, no words.

The monkey loves making beds for “Marshmallow,” and she carries “Marshmallow” EVERYWHERE with her….

I love it. It’s adorable.

I LOVE my hilariously talented, quirky little Monkey.

Seriously, no words.

With the advent of twitter lists (which I doubt I’ll ever get around to making myself because I hardly have time to write to-do or shopping lists let alone SEVERAL lists dividing my friends into groups — high school much? — and unintentionally snubbing them, which is bound to happen)…what was I saying? I forget because I got distracted by Whitney and Jay’s conversation on this eve’s rerun of MTV’s The City….

That picture is so last year, like, when Jay and Whitney were still together. But I didn’t have time to find any current pics of them. But I DID have time to watch THIS WEEK’s episode just now. And I just want to say that, if Elle Magazine wants to interview bloggers — because, as Joe Zee (Elle‘s creative director) puts it, “blogs are the places where news is breaking right now” — they should come TO ME, and my SLIPPERS…. Remember these?

Still wearing ‘em! There’s nothing these two less famous bloggers have that I don’t, right? I blog in my pajamas, too, and shop with my mother…? No? Yes? Elle?

If I don’t get into Elle Magazine, can I at least get on X-WEIGHTED? I need to lose these last 15. Or maybe I’ll just curl up on my couch with my Puffins and make twitter lists, instead. It’s safer here in my comfort zone…. Except right now. Because Josh just made clam chowder, and it STINKS in here.

So, I do have a little list JUST for this blog because my poor blog gets pushed aside so often these days for other more “pressing” things, and this really shouldn’t be, really saddens me, really has to stop because I love blogging…, and if one more thing goes to sh*t because I’m working too much, then something’s got to give. Because DOGGONE IT, I’m important.

So my list, ahem.

1. I love the way Rascal says “banana” — “badanan,” as in, “MO BADANAN, MAMA! MO BADANAN.”

2. Rascal eats too many badanans.

3. The Monkey is addicted to hugging. In the middle of the Swine Flu pandemic, she’s hugging strangers (not that it really matters because Swine Flu is air born).

4. I had Kabocha squash for dinner.

5. Rascal can count to two now. It’s official: “One, Doo, ONE!”

6. Monkey is obsessed with drawing me without a body because, apparently, “it’s too hard” to draw my body….

7. WHICH I choose to take as a compliment, because why not and DOGGONE IT!

8. I’m the disembodied turbaned head on the far left of the drawing — next to me is the artiste herself, her brother, and a caterpillar.

8. I am NOT too old to love The City, OR The Hills….

9. I also love the Glee, The Office, The Tudors, So You Think You Can Dance and Survivor.

10. I did watch V, but I will never watch it again.

11. Just like I will never watch Fringe again.

12. Or the Y&R, which I quit a month ago, WHICH should be a post in itself because it’s a big f-ing deal.

13. I want Russell to win Survivor.

14. I can’t end on #13 not because it’s “bad luck” but because it’s just a weird number to end on.

15. #15 is a better number to end on than #14.

16. I always go for the odd numbers.

17. OCD.

18. But, #18 is an ideal number to end LISTS on.

19. Even though it’s an odd number.

20. I think I’m into even now.

“Are you anxious and lacking self confidence?”

Excuse me, appropriately-timed SPAM EMAIL, you talking to me? YOU tawkin’ to ME?

Apparently, so.

“Are you afraid that women may look down on you? Are you worried about your friends laughing at you in the locker room? Then [BlahBlah] penis enlargement pills is the solution for you.”

Maybe not. That’s okay. Anyway. That all caught my attention.

At this very moment, I am anxious and lacking self confidence. The BlahBlah Penis Enlargement Company couldn’t have put it better. And it’s okay that the entire world knows it.

See, I am so transparent. Sometimes I’m embarrassed about how much I put out there online and in real life, YES. But, then I remind myself that that’s what I’m here — as in ON THIS PLANET — to do. And then I remind myself that there are others who ALSO put themselves out there and do quite well….

(I’m actually a fan of Spencer Pratt, by the way. You love it.)

Certainly, we could all use a little more transparency in our lives — and there’s nothing like a good buzz word. TRANSPARENT. Which sounds remarkably like trans-parent. Hmmm, what to make of that?

By the way, I have a new tick: I say “certainly” all the time now. It’s a little worrisome.

And, no I’m not drunk.

Where was I? (As Rascal would say:) “Oh.”

At this very moment, I am anxious and LACKING IN SELF CONFIDENCE. But, seriously? Who the f*ck has so-called high self-esteem, or even normal self-esteem? What woman? Give me her contact info. We should toooodally have a CONVO.

Except my daughter.

My daughter has amazing, inspiring self-esteem. And, in recognizing the sorry state of my own self-esteem, I’d say she and her stellar self-esteem are in GOOD HANDS (look at that high parenting self-esteem, doncha knowww). Because I know all the red flags. I catch them in myself, like, every minute, and I take a deep breath and roll my shoulders back and say “f*ck it” and “I can do this.” Awareness, man. It’s the key to everything.

Yooooga.

Ujayiiiiii.

Also, at this very moment, like right NOW, I’m very very busy. In the middle of work CHAOS, actually. Too busy to be reflecting on my psychology, on my issssues. And it’s making me a weeeeeeee bit CARAZAY! (Did you notice? Tell me it’s not noticeable.)

So, FINALLY, I interrupt this blog to give you a little something to look at while you think about your self-esteem. What’s your self-esteem looking like lately? Are you HARD on yourself like I am? Or, are you someone I need to have a CONVO with….?

Here’s the something to look at:

I know, you’ve ALL seen this picture before. And you totally remember it. Heyyy, how could I use an old picture? I’m so bad. Such a bad blogger. La la la. I’m too busy to look for a cute new one.

Here’s something else for you, though – on optical ILLUSION:

Here’s the illusion (it’s très coo): if you stare at this photo of MARGE! long enough, you’ll start to see this:

I’m going to bed. Early. Someone needs sleep. Big time.

Love…

xo ahalywe0p

I could totally write a sappy post right now — since I’ve been known to hazard them a little lately, AS I struggle over and over again to find my identity both on- and offline. Who the hell am I supposed to be? What do the PEOPLE want? And is that what I want? Who, me? Who?

And this was NOT what I meant to write about today….

So, I’ll just write from the heart, and give you whatever comes from this way-overtired brain tonight. And when I say way overtired, I mean WAY overtired. Overtired enough this week to…

a) buy the same book for myself twice in FOUR DAYS.

b) walk out of TOYS R US with unpaid MERCH under my armpit (of course, I ran back and paid for it).

c) and WHO STOLE MY BAGEL?

Rascal. The Rascal stole my bagel. He’s TWO going on BAGEL THIEF.

He’s 2 as of tomorrow, that is, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 23 — on the CUSP of Virgo. Yes, he escaped Total Virgo by a thread (a special, lovely, golden thread, with magical powerses). Two years old. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LITTLE MAN, and your tenth percentile, and your BIG OLE ZIT on your cheek that I’m hoping to GOD isn’t chicken pox because I’m way overtired. Overtired enough to…

a) let my overtired daughter stay up AGAIN to watch So You Think You Can Dance Canada, which, by the way, is AWESOME.

b) attempt to put a shoe on Rascal’s HAND instead of his foot.

c) ask a mother at Monkey’s new school first-and-foremost if there was good PARKING at her daughter’s dance school.

d) mouth “HELP ME” to the cat. This cat:

Wait. That’s a pygmy goat. Bygones. And he’s eating my stroller. No wonder my stroller SUCKS lately….

Yes, Rascal is 2 years old. Amazing. And, lucky for you, I’m too tired to get sappy. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you how precious he is with his toothy, ear-to-ear smile with scrunched-up nose, his fluorescent blond hair, his massive blue eyes, and that belly button — “BUTCH, Mama, BUTCH” — that he loves to fondle, and the “CH” sound with which he finishes ALMOST every word he utters, and his still-doughy legs and bubble butt. Just? Love….

Maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you about Monkey’s first days of kindergarten and how she clings to me some days wanting no school but “MAMA,” but then comes home elated and proud of herself and HYPER and horribly, terribly naughty…, and how almost every other girl in her class is BLOND-HAIRED and BLUE-EYED, and how I’m not sure how I feel about that….

Maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you how short Monkey’s hair is thanks to a certain children’s hair salon that specializes in THE IGOR….

And, how Josh-O was furious that I did that to OUR DAUGHTER, and how SHE LOVES IT. HOW I (me) LOVE IT….

…and kitties.

They’re growing up so fast….

Love! I’m too overtired to go to bed. Maybe will tweet for a bit….

xo Haley-O