What was I thinking? What was I THINKING?

Around 12am yesterday, I hear a scream. The usual: “Ma-MAHHHH”! (Honestly? You have to hear this scream. It is hilarious. I’ve thought about recording it for you, but I don’t need all the trolls coming out and saying how bad a mother I am  for letting my baby cry for the sake of THE BLAWG. But, I remind you, he’s not a baby. He’s a TODDLER. And he’s a RASCALLY toddler. The kid’s a master manipulator. He’d do very well in politics.)

I go upstairs (because, of course, I’m hard at work still at 12am. And, apparently, most of this post is going to be in parentheses, but, as you’ll see, I’m tired. VERY TIRED). Rascal’s standing in his crib, red-faced, tear-drenched, stomping his li’l feet and looking at me accusingly (how dare I just stand there?).

And so (the beginning of the end) I pick him up out of his crib. Immediately, he starts squirming himself free and runs — pitter patter pitter patter — to the gate at the top of the stairs, pointing, POINTING and pointing to the stairs.

“No, Rascal,” I say, “It’s bedtime.”

Figuring my work is doneth…, I pick Rascal up and take him into my room. I PUT HIM ON MY BED, figuring he’ll sleep with me. Josh is out of town, and it’s thundering and lightening outside — this could be CO-ZY, right?

No.

Not cozy. Terrible. And Horrible. Terribly horrible. Demanding little bugger (shut it, Trolls) kept pointing at the TV and then the flipper (converter? flicker?). He won’t sit still. I give in and turn on the TV for five minutes, and it’s all downhill from there….

Gorgeouses, he spent the entire night ON TOP OF ME. I couldn’t MOVE. And, not only was I claustrophobic under this 22-pound bundle of cuteness and CRAZAY, but I had NO SPACE. I was half off the bed. To make matters worse….

Pitter patter pitter patter — THE MONKEY hopped into bed with us.

What a mess. I didn’t sleep at all last night. Not a wink. Well, maybe a wink. But every time my eyes started closing (you know, to wink), he’d, like, slam me, or slam the monkey. And by slam, I mean SLAM: he stands up, and then, KABOOM, slams himself on you. It’s his favourite thing. Grrrr….

Even so…, I kicked my hot ass: I went to kickboxing class tonight. And, luckily, the hot instructor took it easy on us and let us sit and watch HIS HOT ASS for parts of the class. I had to work HARD not to drool, had to work HARD to de-contort my face out of its pathetic expression of LO-HON-GING. (I’m pretty sure that de-contorting burns calories…, no?) He’s probably 25 years old, or less, so, like Clive Owen, Brad Pitt and Will Ferrell, he’s safe for me to drool over. Ooo, and he has a thick Romanian accent, always telling us we’re doing “velly good, velly good.” LOOOOOVE.

Okay, to bed. At last. Rascal IN HIS CRIB. It would be great to snuggle with him all night. Him and his uncannily bright blond little head. But, alas, NO FREAKING WAY.

Good night, Gorgeouses!

Love!

xo Haley-O

Ahh…, they sleep. On my bed. At 5 in the evening. I’ll probably pay for it later, when they’re cranky at dinner and too wired to go to bed at a decent hour. But, I’m tired. So tired….

I woke up this morning with it. The burnout. It usually happens Sunday mornings, after a week of solid mothering — usually after Josh goes away, like, TO VEGAS or on a business trip. I wake up to the sound of “maMA! maMA! maMA! maMA! maMA! maMA! maMAHHH! maMAHHH! maMAHHHHHHH!” It’s Rascal, like a parrot — squawking “maMAHHH!” over and over and over again until I can haul Josh’s arse out of bed to go get him his “mitz” (his milk) and bring him to “maMAHHHHHHH”! Usually I welcome Rascal’s morning antics. But, some mornings, like today, I just want to sleep. I just want to be left alone. I want what Kimberly Wilson calls a “bed day” — sleep in, stay in your pjs all day, read, nap, and just be cozy, do nothing. (Kimberly schedules a “bed day” once a month! If only!)

And, then monkey woke up “MAMA, I NEEDA PEEEEEE! I NEEDA PEEEEEEE! I NEEDA PEEEEEEE!” And she thump thump thumps into my room…. Since when did my children get so difficult and demanding? And what’s with the whining? WHINING? Frightful fours, is it? I’m in it. Smack dab in the middle of it.

I know I have Mother Burnout when EVERYTHING is just soooo irritating. It’s not them. Truly, it’s me. I get irritated by ANYONE that demands ANYTHING of me. There’s only so much I can GIVE GIVE GIVE! Even the husband starts getting to me, the phone ringing, the CLUTTER everywhere. And Tigger. Ohhhh, Tigger.

Never Minden, though….

…because he’s my little partner in misery — just as irritated as I am by everything around him. Just wanting to curl up in a little ball and…zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Seriously, I loathe these days. Loathe feeling like this. I really TRY to get out of the funk, but  it doesn’t happen. Until the kids are in bed and I’m on my couch and, ultimately, in bed again….

To make myself feel better today, I left the kids outside with Josh-O so I could workout and have my own space for a bit. Not 10 minutes into my 20-minute Shred, I hear screams. Rascal’s flipped down the concrete stairs in the front because SOMEONE pushed him. ME-duty gives way to MOTHER-duty. I give SOMEONE a time-out and wash poor Rascal’s muddy, scratched-up little frame. I hug him and comfort him.

I take one minute to put my head on the bathtub ledge, and grit my teeth and breathe — until little fingers peel my head off the ledge and sharp little nails pry open my squeezed-shut eyelids.

It’s the hardest job in the world. No, it really is. People say that all the time, but they don’t REALLY think about it, do they.

It’s the hardest job in the world. Motherhood is awesome and wonderful and a blessed thing. But, it’s hard. Really freakin’ hard.

Sigh…. In other news, Monkey and Rascal had their first official conversation. Check it:

Monkey: Do you don’t want ice cream?
Rascal: Neh.

I shouldn’t even be here today. Because I’m OVER HERE — at Canada Moms Blog — talking about a front-page news article that’s dear to my heart. Yet again, I am intense over at Canada Moms Blog. (I’m so sure they didn’t expect that when they asked me to contribute.) So…, go check it.

Still here?

Oh. Okay. Then did you read about ma new job at bTrendie? Did ya join? Huh? Huh?

I know, enough of this shameless self-promoting. It’s just as DIRECTOR, MEMBERSHIP & COMMUNITY, I’m a big part of a marketing team now. So, I find myself making slogans all the time now. Like….

Hot Ass Pact 2009: “It’s not about LOSING weight, but GAINING a hot ass.” Not bad, right?

And, then, at yoga today? I bought a new yoga mat (OMG, it’s amazing, SO non-slip, and natural rubber) and an Indian-stitched mat bag to match….

And what is it about yoga mats that’s so damn ATTRACTIVE to cats? I can’t practice without ONE of them licking the mat or cleaning their gums on my toes or something (you think that’s gross, I know — at least I didn’t mention how I wake up most mornings with Minden’s tongue in my mouth. And, OMG, I KNOWW, Minden is not in this picture! Wonders will never cease).

Anyway, as I was leaving the yoga studio (where I bought the mat), I told my teacher how excited I was with my new mat and bag — that I get to “bring the studio home with me.” And, as I was walking away, I heard someone say, “You should totally use that as advertisement for the mats and bags. ‘Take the studio home with you.’” Ermm, so it seems I can’t HELP myself.

Speaking of yoga. What a class I had today! We did a ton of backbends and bizarre breathing exercises.  I may be rounder than I used to be, but I’m bendier than ever. Not sure what’s going on with that. It feels great, though.

Did you know I’m the youngest person in my yoga class by, like, 15 years? (Maybe that’s why I feel so flexible?) I act like I’m 12 there, no kidding. I swear my voice goes up octave. Unfortunately, they don’t always get my jokes. But, they laugh anyway — ish — because they’re très yogic there. I love it there.

Okay, now BIG SHOUT OUT to the FLINGER (and her PRETTY black dress!) for making a sweet badge for us, Gorgeouses….

Love….

At last, it’s time for me to go to bed. I have a big day at the office tomorrow. And Rascal’s been VERY demanding lately. Especially, you should know, when it comes to his favourite books.

He has to sleep with Goodnight Moon….

“Muun…! MUUUUUN…!”

And, he’ll pull on my Lululemons and shout “WUH-WUH” until I read his favourite bedtime pop-up book, WALL-E.

G’night, Gorgeouses!
Love!
xo Haley-O

I don’t have much in me to write today because “Anon” is in the hospital. Anon prefers not to be mentioned on the blog or on Twitter — hence “Anon.” But, I love Anon. I’m anxious for Anon. I’ll be visiting Anon in the hospital when possible this week, so blogging will be scarce….

In the meantime, I want to tell you about my purchases this weekend.

And then I’ll usher you all over to Canada Moms Blog where I ponder the possibility of something like an “Existential Motherhood.” Oy. I don’t know why I always get so intense and stiff over there. Oh, well, I guess I kind of do know. It’s not my home quite yet. It’s too new. I need to, as my brillers yoga teacher so perfectly says about yoga practice, orientate myself in the room before I can really let go. Am I making sense? Tired. Very tired.

Anyway, last week, I started thinking about balance, and how I could really use some. New Job is exciting and fast-paced and busy (LOVE!), and then there’s my freelance writing job (which is going so sloooowwwly), Kids Deserve art, and my yoga teaching, and the blogs, and, oh yeah, THE KIDS…, and Anon….

I’ve been finding myself a little anxious and overwhelmed and sucked in lately. I go to sleep and my mind is RACING. So, on Saturday, I decided to take a trip up to the Pickering Village (Josh had to go to Pickering to visit a friend; I tagged along) and check out a New Age shop. I wanted something to ground me and help me make smoother, more relaxed transitions from job to job to person to person…….

By the way? I’m watching The Hills right now, and I have to say: “Let’s totally go to Hawaii. Like, why not? Let’s just hop on a plane and go to Hawaii!” I LOVE how they say that like it’s NO BIG DEAL. EVEN when I was that age, it was never NO BIG DEAL for me to go to Hawaii. Just saying. The Hills is just so realistic sometimes it blows me away. But I digress.

…And how many girls on The Hills has Brody Jenner slept with???

ANYWAY….

It’s no surprise, really, since he’s (to borrow his own words) “for one hundred per cent fact” HOTT….

AS I WAS SAYING….

I was so pleasantly surprised when Rascal and I got to the little plaza on Old Kingston Street. (Monkey stayed with her daddy — daddy’s girl that she is.) It was BEAUTIFUL, quaint and so quiet. Rascal and I were, like, the ONLY people in the courtyard. This courtyard….

Photo, with thanks, c/o Mandy No Good.

Imagine me and a teeny blond toddler (10th percentile, Baby!) walking ALONE in this courtyard. I was totally transported into another time and place. Bliss!

On the other side of the courtyard, was this AMAZING new age bookstore….

See it? With the blue sign? It’s called Odyssey Books and Resource Centre. (And, NO, this is not a paid advertisement. With all the talk about carpetbagging mombloggers, everyone’s paranoid! Even those of us who WOULD NEVER! — paranoid.)

AS I WAS SAYING, this store was full of spiritual goodies from candles to stones, fairies, FAIRIES, angels, jewelery, books, traditional native crafts, and everything else you can imagine…. Check how FAB….

Stuff, stuff, STUFF! I love it! Okay, I realize most of you get more excited about cosmetic stores, or Target, or Prada or Gucci or Lululemon, etc., etc.. For me? I LOVE a good New Age bookstore. Can you SMELL the incense? Ahhhh. So relaxing. ACHOO! I just love to look at all the creative baubles and yoga books and stones and candles and nicknacks — and to just BELIEVE a little in my busy busy life that there is, indeed, SOMETHING MORE to life…. It’s all about the experience.

So, since this post getting long and I have an hour left of work to do tonight, here’s what I bought.

For ME….

I got the chakra necklace (not the bracelet), WHICH I’m wearing all the time now. I’ll have to take a picture of it ON ME; it’s a lot subtler than it looks…. I think it’s très GORJ and IT GROUNDS ME. Even if it doesn’t really work — it MIGHT work, and that alone makes it worth it.

I also got this Bach elm flower remedy (NOT A PAID AD)….

The woman behind the counter said I should put two drops of it on my tongue when I get anxious or overwhelmed as I move from one task to another.

For Anon, I bought a blue sodalite stone that has “Health” engraved on it…. And I bought the Monkey a clear quartz crystal with a sea turtle engraved in it — she loves a good sea turtle. This stone is, like, her FAVOURITE thing EVER now….

I didn’t buy Rascal anything because the experience itself was priceless for him — besides, he really only likes his sister’s stuff…. He had the best time playing with the stones, crystals, chimes, books. I’d give him one stone, and he’d be like “neh. neh. neh,” then I’d try another and, “neh. neh,” and finally another, which he’d take eagerly and hold for dear life in his sweaty little hands until he was done with it…..

We had a great time. A mini-vacation in my hectic, busy life. That, and the sweet little gifties I bought for myself and others, were exactly what I needed to get some sense of balance….

And, now, because you know you want EVEN MO MO MO, check my latest (sort-of related) post at Canada Moms Blog: EXISTENTIAL MOTHERHOOD?. I know, intense again, stiff…. Hope you like it anyway!

He was up last night. 1am. 3am. 5am. We did the let-him-cry thing. Because we’ll try anything at this point. But, then Monkey woke up. And, I couldn’t take it. So, yes, as Josh-O puts it, I’m “letting my son walk all over me.” From 5am to 7am I lay stiff as a board in the precise position Rascal requires to fall asleep. I waited ’till he started snoring — ARM WAS NUMB — before I switched to a comfortable position. And, of course, he woke up, grabbed my arm, and lay back down on it, in the position. In the position. My shoulder, neck, and upper back ache. I is tired. I is very, very tired.

But, as promised yesterday, I have Family Day adventure to tell….AND HAIRCUTS. SWEET haircuts. Monkey…GOT A BOB!!!

Right, we still have our Hanukkah decorations up. Hmm…, maybe there IS a little redneck in me?

I can’t stop mushing her cheeks now and telling her how ADORABLE HER NEW HAIR IS! Josh-O insisted “NO BOB,” but I whispered “DO IT” to the hairstylist, et VOILA!

And, then there’s her brother, too…. I can’t take it. BUZZ CUT!!!

Two words: OY OY!

Now, before I collapse right here on the keyboard, check where we went on Family Day….

THE TORONTO BEACHES!

Bet you non-Canadian Gorgeouses didn’t know Toronto had a beach, had sand, had water, had lakeside boardwalk….

Isn’t it GORJ…?

And cute beach-y houses….

And CUTE beach-y stores….

And new beach-y shades….

And, by the way, you know what that means? It means she’s no longer just “CAPTAIN TO THE RESCUE.” No, she’s “CAPTAIN MOVIE STAR TO THE RESCUE.” And, she wore them ALL MORNING today at school, of course, and throughout dinner….

In typical Rascal fashion, Rascal cried most of the day. But, the buzz-cut cuteness factor (and the walking cuteness factor) made up for it….

In all fairness to him, though, it was cold. Dang cold. As soon as we got back in the warm car, he cheered up (after, that is, we forced his wailing writhing self into his car seat), and he sang and yelled “TICKA TICKA TICKA.” Ticka — it was his first word. First Rascalism. It means “tickle.” TICKA TICKA TICKA!!!

It was a great Family Day. Something different. Beautiful. I just love being a tourist in my own city…. ‘Cept now I totally want to live there.

Love!

xo Haley-O