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!
…Meanwhile Josh is out watching the Super Bowl with his buddies — and thinking he’s having a better time than we are.
Because Josh is cheering for the Steelers, we are cheering for the Packers. Well, actually, Josh is cheering for the white team, the Monkey and I are cheering for the green team, and the Rascal is cheering for the “yewwo” (yellow) team — and for himself as he whips a wee basketball around (not against the wall, Rascal, please!), and for the car in the commercial, and popcorn, and his organic gummy bears: “Yeahhhhh, popcohn! Go popcohn! Woohoo! Gummy beahs!” The Monkey’s simply yelling, “Touchdown! Touchdown! Touchdown! Mama, look!”
I’m not sure if the Super Bowl is age-appropriate for 3- and 5-year-olds, but I don’t really care. They’re very good at closing their eyes during the scary commercials, and they agreed with me that the Egg McMuffin (or whatever that was) didn’t look as delicious as the commercial made it seem. So far so good.
They’ll go to bed after the half-time show. They’ll be tired from dancing to the Black-Eyed Peas….
Go PACKERS!
Elephant tomorrow (or Wednesday — I have a cold, blergh)!
Love!
xo Haley-O
P.S.: The kids are in bed and my throat hurts from cheering (with a cold), and I just responded to, like, 25 comments to the past two posts below. I love seeing your comments pour in like they used to (before Twitter and Facebook existed — and I’m not bitter). THANK YOU! I’ll try HARD to respond more quickly to your comments. I’d email you, but I’ve decided to accept the impossibility of keeping up with email. It’s sort of like keeping up with the Kardashians (or not), only not as sexy….
I wrote this post yesterday — Tuesday, December 21. But then my blog went haywire. Apparently we were “raided.” Raided. This is sooo because of the solstice/lunar eclipse. Because a) when on earth does that ever happen? and b) I’ve spent the past three days dealing with the IT guys at work, too — all of whom are flummoxed by the computer problems I’m having. I am cosmically clashing with technology. Anyway, read this now — before your computer poofs into stardust.
It’s the winter solstice, December 21, and there was a lunar eclipse last night, woahh! Double Rainbow! In celebration of this monumental event — when was the last time there was a concomitant lunar eclipse and winter solstice in your very own backyard? — I give you Random Mysterious Lunar 21.
1. At 3:43am last night, which was approximately smack-dab in the middle of the eclipse (2-5am), I bolted awake, looked at my clock as I always do when I wake up 45 times a night (thanks to a little boy who refused to sleep unless he was on top of me for three years), threw on my fuzzy pink slipper boots, a too-short black coat, and dashed out the back door with Betty White in tow. I was a little bit afraid of vampires and zombies, but I sucked it up. And this is what we saw alone together in the backyard in the starry black of night….
2. Betty White refused to look up at the moon no matter how frantically I snapped my fingers in the air so she’d tilt her head in the moon’s general direction and maybe lock eyes with it for a second and become enlightened. But no….
3. Minden also refused to become enlightened when I tilted his head to the sky…. But I still think he’s brilliant.
4. MAAARGE!
5. Josh came outside when I nudged him unapologetically awake, and he took this really creepy-awesome picture apparently while slipping in the snow….
6. Speaking of mysterious round things, check out BAKED APPLE. All you need to do is fill a cored apple (leave apple bottom in tact) with crushed walnuts, raisins, cinnamon and a drizzle of syrup, and place it in the oven covered with a little water on the bottom at 350°F for half an hour or so. I’ll post it in the kitch with more deets when I’m a little less lazy….
7. My wise friend/yoga buddy/brilliant macrobiotic counselor Alice would approve of my baked apple. I know because I just ate her surprisingly delicious “Intuition Stew,” which she was awesome enough to leave for me at the yoga shala today — verklempt. I feel so intuitive right now.
8. Alice asked me if the Monkey knew our Dreidel video may be shown to thousands of people. “Of course!” I said. “She couldn’t sleep the night before her teacher showed it to her Kindergarten class three times, and shrieked with utter glee, ‘I AM ON TVeeeee,’ and tilted her head inquisitively while asking, ‘Mama, why don’t you show my face? I want my face on there.’”
9. Justin Timberlake as a Cup o’ Soup. OMG. I can’t deal.
10. Just like her mama, the Monkey (already) loves boys. But apparently they’re not allowed in her room. Which brings us to our next mysterious round thing….
11. And other mysterious drawings…?
12. …among the many others that she taped onto her door. Never mind Bawbara — move over Debby Travis AND Martha Stewart!
13. Mysterious WRITINGS have also mysteriously popped up on her now-mysterious radiator…
14. …and on her now-mysterious dresser…
15. Please send eco-friendly children’s marker (and sticker) remover? Who’s the PR rep for that. We could do big things together here!
16. She’s talented, that Monkey…. Karen Kain and Mikhail Baryshnikov must also move over. Bring it on, So You Think You Can Dance! Bring. It. On.
17. One of my favourite parts of the Monkey’s dance show was definitely the bar work. That fifth position is tricky! (I also loved the part when another little dancer interrupted the teacher to whisper “I have a Zhu Zhu pet” in her ear.)
18. The Monkey’s brother’s favourite part was no doubt the candy-cane-Rice-Crispy-square-and-cupcake “pawdy” (trans. “party”)….
19. Mmm, food colouring. I was so proud.
20. I’m also so proud because (are you ready?) THE RASCAL IS FULLY TOILET TRAINED. Fully and FINALLY toilet trained. Turns out he had no idea that he could “hold it in.” I literally had to teach him how to “hold it in” — to do what moms would call kegels and what yogis would call bandhas. Yes, I taught my 3-year-old son kegels and bandhas, and he hasn’t had an accident since. Go Rascal!
21. I can’t keep up at all with my email. And I feel terrible about it because I rarely get around to responding to your comments. To fix this problem, I’ll be responding to all your comments in the comment section — unless I have something intensely personal to share with you. (I’ll definitely email to say a special “hey” once in a while, though.) It’s going to be fun, Gorgeouses! So check back after you leave a comment, okay? Also, leave comments. You know, so we can test this out…. Oh, okay, what blogger doesn’t love comments?
Happy solstice! And congratulations to all of us for getting to the end of this post. Did you happen to see the eclipse? DISCUSS.
Did any of you check out the fabulous Neil Kramer’s Fifth Annual Christmalhijrahanukwanzaakah Online Holiday Concert? Well! It was a very big deal, and guess who showed up? Our very own CHEATY MONKEY (featuring special cameos by Betty White, the Rascal and, regrettably, my boob) singing everyone’s favourite Dreidel Song. CHECKIT:
I probably should have apologized in advance for the dirty dinner plates on the table. But see how the plates were scraped clean? It was some kind of mock macaroni dinner, if I remember correctly. Thanks to my trusty vita-mix blender (love!), the kids ate an entire broccoli stem each and didn’t know it.
“It has a lovely body with legs so short and thin.” That line cracks me up EVERY TIME she sings it.
It’s been 2 days since Neil’s big party, and Hanukkah’s only slipping further into the past, so I figure I better post our video here now. But DO go and check out so many of my friends. It’s a lot of fun!
Last night between fits of insomnia I dreamed of glitter and really long hair. I woke up to find the Rascal snoring and drooling on my back — wearing his new Maple Leafs jersey, clutching his new Maple Leafs hat in one dimply hand and his new Spiderman scooter in the other.
“Mama, your hair smells like gummy bears.” He’s right, unfortunately. This new shampoo is awful.
Stomp stomp stomp. The Monkey runs in to my bedroom carrying her new miniature Rapunzel doll, “Look, Mama! Her hair looks like a long stick on her head! [Giggle].” Good morning!
Hanukkah is here all right. While the first night’s gifts weren’t a total success (the Rascal’s Cars phone was too educational…). The second night’s gifts were so awesome the kids forgot about Christmas and Santa, Rudolf, elves, indoor trees adorned with pretty sparkly things….
But it wasn’t the hockey sweater and mini Rapunzel doll the kids loved…. It was the fabulous night out. I took the Monkey on a girls’ night out to see Tangled, and Josh-O took the Rascal to the Leafs game – via subway. Gorgeouses, ’twas the night my clinging-to-babyhood Rascal became a big boy….
New shirt — new attitude! (Not including the epic tantrum he threw this morning when he wanted to wear his favourite yellow sports jersey underneath his new Leafs jersey: “No, you can’t wear those two together, Rascal.” “Wahhh, I want Mama, Wahhhh!”) And yes we let him wear that Leafs jersey to bed AND to school. Hey, it’s preschool. No one cares.
Except the Monkey. Apparently she cares. A lot.
“Mama, I was on stage in front of thousands of people today,” she screamed when I picked her up from school today.
My child — my 5-year-old child — stood up on the gymnasium stage in front of the entire school to accept the School Character Award for “Consistent Demonstration of Empathy” today. Now who’s verklempt? Empathy. Empathy!
On our special night out, the Monkey and I had some much-needed time alone. She sat on my lap throughout the movie, got scared and wanted to leave as usual. But I urged her — just like in swim class — to push through her fear, and she did and she was illuminated like a thousand lanterns….
*Weep.* It’s…just so pretty.
I think I liked Tangled even more than most people because I thought Rapunzel was Reese Witherspoon the whole time. So throughout the movie, I was, like, “Wow, Reese Witherspoon can really sing.” Rapunzel was played by Mandy More, though. Who’s also quite agorjable and talented, but she’s not Reese Witherspoon.
Tonight we had our big Hanukkah party with all the cousins at It’sGrandma’s house. Latkes, dreydls, gelt, more presents (egad), the works. And I’m…. I’m beat, and I’m full. And I’m practically broke.
I have to say, I’m really surprised. Thank you to whomever nominated me and to the jurors and the brillers Ms. Schmutzie (the Awards’ creator and organizer), and especially to all of you for being so Gorgeous.
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!
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.
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….
I’ve been complaining a wee bit about waking up at 6am every morning to do yoga and I think I’ve figured out what the problem is.
I wake up at 6am — usually after a late night working — so I can do something for me. Something QUIET and JUST for me.
Usually, my kids wake up at around 7:30am (also 2:30, 4:45, and 5:40, but that’s for another blog post). So I figured if I wanted to do any sort of thing that was JUST FOR ME under my roof, I better set my alarm a little earlier, pad softly down the stairs and enjoy.
Not so much.
The moment I shift into consciousness, the moment my eyelids dare part, HE wakes up….
And then SHE wakes up….
Thankfully, SHE stays put in bed….
But occasionally — and with special thanks to DAYLIGHT SAVINGS — she gets up too and at some point, usually midway into my yoga practice, wants breakfast….
We’ll not talk about the horrid cat situation. Okay — twist my arm — briefly: HE wakes up shortly before 6am (of course), steals my last precious minutes of sleep by locating any perceivable piece of plastic and crinkling it (i.e., threatening to eat it and die), or spilling the water on my night table (i.e., right-next-to-my-Kobo).
Sic ‘em, Betty White…!
So waking up at 6am would be EASY and maybe even JOYFUL if I didn’t have to contend with all of the above — not to mention that pesky little voice in my head that goes on and on about stuff like, “You could sooo, toooootally stay in bed until 7:30,” “what’s one day off of yoga?” “You need a break,” “You deserve a break,” and, of course, “can we have a chai latte later? Maybe don’t do yoga and have a chai today, and then be PERFECT tomorrow?” “You’ll never lose this weight, so screw it!” Ugh.
It’s truly amazing, then, when you think about it, that I actually got up at 6am every morning this week AND got start-to-finish through my yoga practice. I let out the dog, I set Rascal up on the couch (he never stays there), I break up cat-and-dog fights, I get Rascal water and the Monkey some cereal and blueberries…. “Can I lie on you?” Rascal asks, as I fold over in janu sirsasana C….
It’s not exactly meditative like yoga’s supposed to be…. But occasionally, like in a semi-uninterrupted janu sirsasana B, my mind gets really quiet, and 5 breaths can feel like 5 minutes…and I can maybe sense a sweet little surrender.
But, there ARE people who do this sort of thing no problem. A friend of mine with a 1- and 3-year-old wakes up at 5am to workout blissfully in her basement. Her kids, however, aren’t high maintenance….
My yoga teacher, who has a 5-month-old, wakes up a THREE A-M to practice…. I knowww!
Still there are others like Sarah, mom of FOUR. She wakes up at 5:30am every morning because that’s WHEN HER KIDS WAKE UP. Does she get any time to herself at all — let alone to workout? Who am I to complain about a self-imposed 6am?
So questions. Is it selfish of me to EXPECT time for myself at 6am? It’s not even like waking up at 5am would make a difference, I remind you, since the Rascal LIVES for “up time.” I mean, my kids are 3 and 5. Isn’t it healthy for them to see mom taking care of herself and taking SOME time for herself? Thoughts?
PS: After writing this post, I got emails and comments suggesting that I’m too hard on myself. You don’t know the half of it, I’m afraid. But, it’s the way I am, and I’m working on it. Recognition goooooood. I suppose a very good product of all this is that I’m surprisingly not hard on my kids. I hope (pray) they’re never this hard on themselves, and that I can learn to be less hard on myself before they start to notice. Taking care of myself, I think, is a start — even if it means embracing a little discipline. Now, please excuse me, I need to go lift my puppy off my dining room table again. (Special thanks to RJ….)
PPS: MARRRRRRGE!
PPPS: My colleague told me Minden and I look alike.
“Come on, people — look at my pine cone! PleeeeeeEEEEEEEeeeeeeEEEEase? Ah, aah, aaah!”
He’s in a whining phase. My little superboy is always whining. Just this weekend a close family member told me this: “I feel sorry for you. I really do.” That was after I pointed out his latest favourite phrase: “aah, aah, aaahhh!”
At first I felt vindicated when she said that. The Rascal IS really high maintenance. He’s a needy little guy when he’s with me — constantly. But this isn’t a reason to feel sorry for me. Sure he’s one whiny little dude, but he’s smart and funny and adorable, and he’s loving and affectionate. And his friend poked him in the eye today and it’s all grotesquely bloodshot and hard to look at, but he’s still ridiculously gorgeous. And he may crawl into my bed every night and wake me up every hour on the hour, but he gives. the best. back rubs. No one should feel sorry for me. But everyone should just trust me when I tell you he’s high maintenance and I’m tired.
Still it was a good Halloween. I ate too much candy, but I’m fasting for the next three weeks with The Feel Good Guru (more on that later)…. And in the midst of Halloween preparations, I stole away on my own for a bit and celebrated the second-year-anniversary of my beloved yoga studio with their annual “yoga Olympics” — look how fabulous!
I thought I’d better go to the Yoga Olympics because I had the weirdest dream the other night that I was a child around the Monkey’s age (5), and I didn’t want to play, like, at all. I didn’t want to play ANYTHING. It was actually kind of a nightmare. Really sad. I figure I’d better do more things I really enjoy doing; I figure I’d better play more.
While I was having my own unique (I know!) kind of fun, Betty White was at the top of the stairs at home trying to figure out what the deal was with our Halloween decoration….
REEEEEEEEOWWWW! Don’t worry, Betty White! SUPERGIRL will save you!
Halloween night was a lot of fun (even for me who apparently hates playing, BAH!). The kids had a great time — even though there was a lot of “ah, aah, aaaah!” which escalated to “wah, waah, WAAAHHHHHH!” when we walked by some neighbours who were hiding behind the bushes, scaring the little kids. *Cough.*
While our pumpkins weren’t quite Martha Stewart or Sue Sylvester material, they weren’t bad…. What do you think? I did the Mickey Mouse one start to finish (Josh carved Tinker Bell) because the Rascal HAD to have a Mickey Mouse pumpkin…ah, aaah, aaaah!
How was your Halloween? Eventful? And tell me, pleeaeaaeEEEEasse, what do you do for “play”?
Love!
xo Haley-O
P.S.: One of these days I’ll figure out how to use my new(ish) camera. Fuzzy pictures – bygones!
(She can’t even EVER close her mouth with that under bite….)
Josh came home so embarrassed the other day because he bumped into the neighbour with the perfectly-groomed coton de tulear…. There was the perfectly-groomed coton de tulear. And there was Betty. Yeti White. *Shudder.*
Right after bumping into the neighbour with the perfectly-groomed coton, Josh brushed Betty (again), and then he bathed her because there was really very little improvement. And still, very little improvement….
(That lower lip…. those bottom teeth jutting out. YETI!!!)
Betty White wasn’t the only yeti in town this weekend either….
Luckily, the groomer for THAT yeti was open, and we got his hair cut….
BEFORE….
AFTER….
GORJ!
You’ll just have to trust me when I say there was another yeti in the house, but I didn’t get a good back-of-the-bed-head photo of her…. The Monkey got a much-needed haircut, too….
Princess….
Now (besides Yeti White), there’s only one yeti still left in the house.
Me.
One of these days, I’ll get that haircut. Sighhhh…. I’ll call tomorrow.
Instead of posting a photo of MY yeti hair, checkout the Monkey and Rascal in the “bouncy castle” at his big birthday bash this weekend (at which I let my inner party mama out and wore a sequined shirt hollahh). CAPTION IT for me, would you?
